It's almost as if people LIKE kicking me.
It was Pilton Pop Festival, or, for the scum who only like it because it's fashionable, Glastonbury Music Festival. I think it was 1994, though I could well be wrong.

We were a team of 12, we'd spent the evening getting in on two tickets that we'd shared the cost of, and it seemed that Mike and I both had the team gear (or MASSIVE DRUGS, or "cannabis").

Much later that evening, then, we were wandering along, enjoying the sights and sounds (and smells), and decided a beer was in order, or, specifically, a tin of still-warm cider from our collection in our backpack.

Several ciders later, and we decided to have a bit of a sit-down. It was now quite late, and since the bright lights of the beer tents were doing our heads in, we decided to find a bit more room, and sat down to enjoy some spliff.

I remember Mike waking me "Vagabond! Vagabond!" he said, proffering a spliff, "Breakfast!".

It was still pitch black, but I dutifully sat up and partook. As I finished a couple of puffs, I noticed Mike had passed out. "Mikey! Mikey!" I said, tapping him, "Breakfast!"

He sat up, took the joint, and this situation seemed to go on for a couple more rounds.

And it was then that the kicking started. It would appear that this time, we'd managed to pass out in front of the Pyramid stage, and in the brightness of the afternoon sun, we realised we were right at the front with a increasingly-packed crowd forming around us in preparation for the first band of the day, and with little room more for manoeuvre, they had taken to trying to either kick us out of the way or stand on us.

I've bought better hangovers.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Tue 19 Feb 2013, 9:16, 10 replies)

Unless you live in Pilton then referring to it as Pilton makes you an unutterable wannabe hipster cunt.
No'ffence like.
( Dr. Shambolic je suis charlie, Tue 19 Feb 2013, 12:30, closed)

Three miles or so outside OK with you?

( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Tue 19 Feb 2013, 12:39, closed)

Borderline. We shall consult the hipster cunt rulebook.
RNUK! PAGING RNUK!
( Dr. Shambolic je suis charlie, Tue 19 Feb 2013, 17:54, closed)

haha.
Top workplace roffle there.
( the mighty badger Aphrodite, on a bar stool, by your side, Wed 20 Feb 2013, 13:21, closed)

No. It definitely said GLASTONBURY on all the tickets, wristbands, posters, etc.
Just like it had for the previous god-knows-how-many-years.
Stop trying so hard.
( 4Q just lurking, Tue 19 Feb 2013, 19:31, closed)

That's as may be.
Locally it's still referred to (or it certainly was then) as the Pilton Pop Festival.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Wed 20 Feb 2013, 8:48, closed)

Ahhhh, Glastonbury '94.
Second best Glastonbury ever. The Sugarlump sound system ruled supreme. Only the dance tent at '95 ever beat it. It was all downhill from there.
( The Awful Puppy Bakery is still bored, Tue 19 Feb 2013, 14:31, closed)

Haha - yeah.
Glasto in the 90s.
So much better than the 80s when there weren't any pigs in uniform.
( 4Q just lurking, Tue 19 Feb 2013, 19:29, closed)

I seem to remember one year in the dance tent when a fire engine trying to get somewhere suddenly turned up and everyone started dancing around the flashing blue lights.
A story going round in either 98 or 99 was that someone had shat in Flitch's garden and after a terse phone call to the farm complaining, allegedly Michael Eavis suggested to her that it might be a dog and not a human turd to which he received the reply, "dogs dont wipe there bottoms with toilet paper,", I always hoped this was a true event and not a glastonbury urban legend.
(Finster Ate a cat biscuit for a bet, Tue 19 Feb 2013, 20:48, closed)

Some cunt nicked my toothpaste out of my tent pocket thing in 94.
I'd chased him about 200 yards before I remembered I was entirely naked.

Like anyone even noticed.
( the mighty badger Aphrodite, on a bar stool, by your side, Wed 20 Feb 2013, 13:22, closed)