Spannered at Punk Festival
A bunch of us went to Glasgow for a one day punk festival. The queue for the Barrowlands was a sight to behold. Hundreds of punks lined up, already gurning slightly after the preparatory whites, thick clouds of ganja smoke filling the air along with empty bottles and cans sketching rudimentary parabolas through the fug. And this was around 10 in the morning in the pissing rain.

Once inside we sank many a pint, smoked many a spliff and consumed a few disco biscuits in an attempt to reach complete inebriation.

I was amused greatly by;

Tom being caught, cross-legged in the middle of the dancefloor, crumbling the last of his hash into an enormous spliff. The security guard insulted him, snatched the tiny block of hash from his hand and strode off, leaving the unrolled, and already packed, spliff untouched - Ta fella

and, the end of the night when I was waiting for the mighty Lagwagon to take the stage. I was oscillating quite badly by this point and probably chewing my face in a hideous gurnsome manner. I was getting rather impatient as I'd been waiting for (what felt like) a long time for their appearance. Slowly the general background noise began to filter through my drug addled brain and, lo and behold, it kind of sounds like Lagwagon. It was at this point I realised that, like a mong, I'd been standing facing the opposite direction to the rest of the crowd and had missed the first 10 minutes of Lagwagon's set as they rocked the fuck out roughly 3 meters behind me.


Good times!
(Rotimer was micturating windward at, Fri 5 Jun 2009, 13:40, Reply)