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This is a question Festivals

Mud, rubbish sex, food poisoning and the Quo replacing the headline act you've mortgaged your house to see. Tell us your experiences

Question from Chart Cat

(, Thu 4 Jun 2009, 12:33)
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Hot Water...
First B3ta story, please be gentle..

I'd always fancied attending these huge events, the appeal of getting the chance to see massive bands, soak up the atmosphere with thousands of other like-minded people, and I'd even risk the opportunity of tasting the wares of the greasy burger sellers.

The thought of hitch-hiking through back roads, using nothing but the dulled sound of huge PA systems as our only means of navigation, and the Ray Mears-esque technique of finding water by following the herds of backpackers, hooded partygoers and hippies wearing tie-dyed tights got the better of me when I suggested to the missus that I really fancied getting tickets to see a Festival.

Fast-forward a couple of weeks, and with the attitude of an excited puppy, the missus comes bounding into the front room, clutching some pieces of paper, screaming 'Suprise' - I got these for you, hope you like them!!

So there they were, my golden tickets, I rejoiced as I was about to bear witness to the popping of my festival cherry, thoughts of a day trip to Millets flooded my mind, and a massive order of the ever popular toiletries, noodles and other substances not seen on GMTV were swiftly purchased.

A couple more weeks later, stuffed in the back of my mates Fiat Panda like sardines, sandwiched between rucksacks and them wierd metal tins with the folding handles, we're heading down the motorway, tape player on full blast (did'nt have the luxury of an IPod or CD player) we eventually turn up to what seemed to be a colossal village, surrounded by security, queues of traffic, coaches, articulated lorries and people wearing the most bizarre outfits that appeared to have been concoted by a seriously tripping Gok Wan.

So we're parked up, we've queued up and the all too familiar booming of the music, sound checks and people with whistles and horns is making our ears tingle with excitement, we've got through the security checks, sniffer dogs and avoided the local scamps trying to trade us dodgy wristbands, when we get to some massive security gorilla covered in ID tags, who demands to see our tickets, and as a nice bloke as I am, I eagerly hand them over..

"Come with me sir" he bellows, and ushers me to some small tent in a corner...

I'm thinking "What the fuck?, I'm not carrying anything dodgy, it's all stuffed in the missus's bra - they'll NEVER search there"

Oh no, it was'nt drugs he was after - upon opening the tent, it dawned on me what was happening, as there in front of me was a small table, with a red hat on it, covering what looked like a cordless kettle.

It turns out that in her eagerness, the missus had treated me to tickets to see a 'Fez-Tefal' and I'd fallen victim to another pun.

Length? - About a year of lurking...
(, Tue 9 Jun 2009, 9:16, closed)



ninja edit - *click*
(, Tue 9 Jun 2009, 9:40, closed)
Fuck me
like it... but, fuck me....
(, Tue 9 Jun 2009, 9:41, closed)
Cheer Spanky, It's OK I guess, but nothing in comparison to some of the belters you've posted previously...
(, Tue 9 Jun 2009, 9:45, closed)
No mate
this is CLASS! Mine are shrivelled, diseased, puss-filled hairy gonads compared to this your mighty cannonball-esque spunk sacks of erm... writing...??? Fuck me, I'm going for a bit of a lay down...

Write more you cunt!!!
(, Tue 9 Jun 2009, 14:50, closed)
Argh Argh Argh.
(, Tue 9 Jun 2009, 12:53, closed)
I am packing up and leaving. I have just been given a masterclass in punnage. I am, indeed, not worthy.

(, Tue 9 Jun 2009, 16:54, closed)

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