Rolling with the Big Dog...
Several years ago, I was given some free tickets to go to the Homelands festival as I had recently done some work for "Dangerous" Dave Pearce. Said tickets included passes to get backstage at the Radio 1 stage, so needless to say I spent the vast majority of the afternoon ogling Carl Cox's entourage of teutonic blondes, having a conversation with Seb Fontaine about portaloos and making the most of the bar.

We were having such a good time of it that some hours had passed before we spotted a big black GMC van parked just outside the back stage area. The van was covered in graphics of explosions and the like (and possibly "big dogs" - I honestly don't remeber) but it wasn't until we spotted the foot-and-a-half high lettering down the side that we got really excited. Yes, we had clocked the Westwood-mobile.

Half an hour and several beers later, we were trying to decide how we could sabotage the vehicle in protest at the twatty son-of-a-vicar, when my mate decided that I should go and show my respec' by pissing on his door handle.

I rush off around the corner and return a couple of minutes later with a sly grin on my face. Mate goes off to the bar to congratulate me on a mission well executed.

Did I do it? Did I bollocks. There were three enormous security guards guarding the bling wagon and I bottled it. Still, it seemed churlish to spoil the fun for my mate...

Apologies for length and girth - in fact perhaps that's why I was less than inclined to show it to the securty guards...
(fla383 hasn't taken his medication since, Mon 3 Jul 2006, 13:58, Reply)