I suppose this is relevant
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D7xX8vYwqkc
(Dan dan dan They tik urh jerbs!!!, Fri 26 Jun 2015, 10:11, 2 replies)

My mate was woken up by noisy rutting from a nearby tent
He was about to shout some sarcastic encouragement when he recognised one of the voices as being his girlfriend.
(yo man river INVINCIBLE, Fri 26 Jun 2015, 9:55, 6 replies)

I once catered at a techno festival put on by the Exodus Collective
As I approached my tent one afternoon, I heard grunting from within. I yanked the zip up to reveal a naked couple, mid-shag.

After a split second of mutual shock, I yelled "Gerrout of my fucking tent" and chased them, still naked, across the camping field.
(Porcupine, Fri 26 Jun 2015, 9:21, 5 replies)

Reposting. Because pearoasting is for cunts.
I may have mentioned before that I do occassional security work.
This is generally quite tedious, until summer arrives, at which point in time it becomes a series of weekends away at music festivals up and down the UK. At one of the larger UK festival a call comes over the radio from a fairly bemused response team.
The victim had a lobe extension, what this effectively is, is a ear piercing that has been stretched and a hoop inserted to give a clear opening. Sometimes these are a few millimetres at most, sometimes they're wide enough to fit a can of redbull through.
Someone completely unknown to the victim approached him and after a brief conversation, then said the following "You know what would make a cool picture? If I was to padlock you to that fencing through your ear!"
The victim agreed that it indeed would make a cool picture. The protagonist produced a padlock from his pocket, they approached the nearest fencing and he was duly locked to it through the lovingly stretched hole in his flesh.
The protagonist unfortunately didn't stick around to take a picture. He didn't even release the poor sod. Instead, he just fucked off and left him.
( Muns, Fri 26 Jun 2015, 8:50, 2 replies)

Going to Rebellions festival
in August. yes, I know I'm a sad old aging punk, but fuck you.
It's indoors - no rain or any weather shit to worry about.
No tent, nice little b&b with shower/toilet/breakfast/etc.
No fucking hippies, no hooray bastarding Henries doing the rounds like it's fucking Glyndbourne, no-one saying "chillllll-ooout maaaan", just pityful aged tossers trying to re-live their long-forgotten youth, but having a fucking good laugh.
Just a shame it's in Blackpool, which is a fucking dump.
www.rebellionfestivals.com/
( social hand grenade I was a lurker before you were a lurker, Thu 25 Jun 2015, 23:22, 13 replies)

I hate balloons, christmas and warm weather
There, I said it
( Two Hats I saw someone eating M&M's with a spoon, Thu 25 Jun 2015, 16:27, 8 replies)

A man once weed on my shoes...
... while my feet were still in them, poking out of my tent.

I was not best pleased.

This was at Glastonbury 2000 - where I also contracted a throat so sore I was unable to swallow anything for 24 hours.

Other than that, it was fun. Better than Glastonbury 1997, when I got trench foot. My feet hurt so much I could hardly walk.
( Parmesan Quality b4 Quantity, Thu 25 Jun 2015, 15:49, 2 replies)

Anyway.
So.

With sort of like with seeming in mind, urm, it is obviously festival season. Anyone going to any rock festivals soon? Leedsfest? Good luck.

Right.

Because, because, I'm not sure if this is true or not, but I had heard a story about a guy who sort of like, he's shall we say just a little bit different. He dresses up in a dry suit, this is from what I've heard, I don't know if it's true or not, dresses up in a dry suit with like full mask and snorkel and everything else. And goes and lurks in the long drops. And likes to play a little game with people. Yeah, you've heard this before haven't you. Oh well, so it goes. And, urm, you know he, he likes to, uh, like I say, play a little game. Don't spoil the punchline for me, please. Otherwise I'll be singling you out for a complaint later on. And, like I say, likes to lurk and he lurks in the long drops. Until you at the most vulnerable, your trousers around your ankles already feeling a little bit bleurrgh because of all of the various substances alcohol and the fact that, you know, your dung handles are you know pretty much brushing your shoes. And just at that moment apparently he likes to pop up and just go POP UP PIRATE you know like that. I'm gonna say if you've not had a shit before you certainly will after that.
( Pig Bodine., Thu 25 Jun 2015, 13:53, 2 replies)

Glastonbury '95
I was on the dole in Leeds with no money and only 3 cans of baked beans left - but some friends were driving down to the Festival in their hippy van to bunk over the fence so I thought 'Fuck It - might as well be skint and hungry at Glastonbury'. It was the worst weekend of my life.

My 3 cans of beans became 2 as some nob head nicked one off me as I was eating it.

Having no tent and nowhere to sleep was a bad idea. This was made worse by the fact that when I did find a 'quiet' spot and try to kip next to some bins, I was woken up by a stranger shouting with glee after finding a carrier bag filled with drugs next to my head.

I could have done with those. Starving, sleep deprived and sober is a shit way to enjoy a festival.

In the days before mobiles it was very easy to get lost. I spent the 3 days wandering about in a hungry knackered stupor with no idea where my handful of friends were.

Oasis headlined. They were fucking shit. I actually walked off - preferring my desperate hungry solitude to their dreadful performance.

I did see some lovely naked breasts though when I was sat at the Tor :)

Hitch hiking home on the Monday morning was the best bit. A complete stranger gave me 10 fags. I got a lift to Stone Henge after 2 seconds of putting my thumb out and I spent 2 days in the sunshine meandering back to Leeds. I had to beg for 20 pence outside a remote petrol station to buy a Mars Bar though.

TL;DR - I've never been back.
(l0bst3r, Thu 25 Jun 2015, 13:43, 30 replies)

My mate Jon gave me a ticket to Sonisphere last year...
He'd just broken up with his missus and didn't want her to have the tickets, so invited me along instead. Because he was newly single, in between sessions of drinking overpriced lager he was on the hunt for anything that looked remotely female and like she'd let him take her back to his tent for the best thirty seconds of her life.

Obviously it fell to me to be his wingman.

As with many music festivals there was a small corner of the arena devoted to rattly old death trap fairground rides. One of these rides in particular was a "sit in small chair, get swung around 50 feet up in the air" variety. Earlier in the day Jon had eyed it up warily and loudly proclaimed he'd "never go on that fucking thing". I couldn't really blame him.

Later in the day, though, when Jon had found a likely girl (complete with requisite friend that needed escorting) and was regaling her with tales of his days in the RAF, we happened to walk past the ride again. Being the great friend and wingman that I am I suggested we all had a go; Jon couldn't decline for fear of looking like a wimp in front of his new lady friend. He hated every moment, and I honestly wouldn't be surprised if a little bit of wee came out when the wind picked up at the top.

Unfortunately things didn't work out for Jon and his lady friend that night (something to do with her smuggled in gin). It was alright though, because after watching a few bands the next day Jon made friends with another nice young lady and her friend. They stuck around as we watched a few more bands, had a few drinks, watched the slightly odd World War I dogfight, and went for a wander around the festival ground.

"Hey, girls," I said, when we got to an appropriate bit of the arena. "Reckon we should all have a go on that ride?"
( gone, Thu 25 Jun 2015, 12:51, 6 replies)

The last time I went to a festival,
it took forever to get there, owing to the marquee reception beforehand dragging on interminably. There were no spots for our folding chairs on the lawn at the right distance from the string orchestra, the Pimm's had started to verge on the warm and it was even threatening to drizzle.

Fortunately for all concerned, Henry rolled up with some organic strawberries from his uncle's farm and a chilled bottle of champagne. We partied like mad things, I can tell you. There was more than a shade of the metallic to it.
( .Yeti. El amor en los tiempos del cólera, Thu 25 Jun 2015, 12:47, Reply)

years ago..
... I found myself in the middle of a farmers field, about 50,000 people for company, indulging in some of the worlds most insane 'beats'. One night after hitting it hard I came back to the tent and all my stuff had been stolen, clothes, booze, camping gear, the lot. We were there for another day yet so my mate graciously decided to lend me some of his warmer summer gear, as he needed the chillier clothes as the weather had turned nasty.

So I put on a sleeveless top and we got back on it. Just then, some tit spilt his beer down my recently borrowed tank-top.

That was my vest-of-ale story...
(r0bm867, Thu 25 Jun 2015, 11:59, 7 replies)

Never been to a festival
sorry
(andythepieman Is surfing the waves of indifference on, Thu 25 Jun 2015, 11:34, 5 replies)

Reading from '88 to '93 ish
We thought we were having the best of times, but looking back we were just a bunch of wankers.

Do any dirty people actually go to festivals anymore? It just looks like girls in going out gear these days.

Also, 'family festivals' can fuck right off
(LetsGetDownToIt, Thu 25 Jun 2015, 11:15, 5 replies)

Back at the tents at Glastonbury (99, I think),
we watched with amusement/horror as my brother's mate turned on the gas burner, struck a match, failed to light the gas, then attempt to strike the match again. Hopeless.
Having bought no food and very little money with him, he avoided starvation by winning a box of Doritos on the first day.

Another member of our party went for a poo, and heard a phone ringing in the depths. Rumour had it that some brave soul went in to retrieve it.
( monster munch person, man, woman... camera... TV?, Thu 25 Jun 2015, 10:24, 4 replies)

Bum
Festivals are shit. Much better listening to Magic or Heart FM whilst sitting comfortably in ones pants on the sofa, eating Cheesey Wotsits.
(FUXTIX Not my words, Carol, Thu 25 Jun 2015, 9:55, 1 reply)

I've done a poo at a festival.

(yo man river INVINCIBLE, Thu 25 Jun 2015, 9:54, 9 replies)

GOOD TOIMES

( Two Hats I saw someone eating M&M's with a spoon, Thu 25 Jun 2015, 9:51, 6 replies)

Benny tied to a chair is shit.
Any fool knows him tied to a tree.
( JeffTheDogFucker Can you dig it?, Thu 25 Jun 2015, 9:49, 1 reply)

how have you not worked out how to reply to a post
( MEATSNAKE Richard Hammond, Thu 25 Jun 2015, 9:48, Reply)

how did you post a story before the time the question was asked
(chovnik, Thu 25 Jun 2015, 9:47, 2 replies)

Poo

( MEATSNAKE Richard Hammond, Thu 25 Jun 2015, 9:44, 4 replies)