Sir Glovington

» Real Life Slapstick II

I was walking with a freind up on the hill fort at the top of brighton,
we decided to walk a little bit down an extremely steep hill to sit on the hillside and smoke a joint. my mate took about 3 steps before sliding about 3 and a half metres on a massive dog turd. He was sliding on one foot, untill said foot picked up momentum and travelled faster than his body at which point it kicked up into the air above his head as he landed on his back. Assuming he had landed in the turd he quickly rolled over onto his front, only to land face first, directly into the turd...It was fucking hilarious.
(Tue 7th Oct 2014, 14:18, More)

» Famous people I hate

You Say it Best!
Once had the chance to interview Ronan Keating. I did so after a bottle of Vodka (he was obnoxiously late, and the offie was just round the corner).
In my Drunken State i thought it would be hilarious to only speak to him in his own song lyrics. The interview began as such.
"Ronan. Its amazing how you can speak right to my heart, Without Saying a word you just light up the dark."
"just some advice, Life is a Rollercoaster, You've just got to ride it"..... So far so good, a baffled Ronan Keating Was blubbering Nonsense about relief work in africa in retaliation and staring at me as if i was a piece of shit on his £300 shiny shoes, But unable to do anything because he was trying not to lose his rag infront of an audience. This ridicule continued for a few minutes untill i couldnt resist the finishing blow....... "Ronan, You say it best When you Say nothing at all............"

"Because your a Cunt"

That did it. He Walked out and Demanded to the college i was studying at that i write him a letter of apology for what i had done. In Hindsight, maybe i shouldnt have got drunk, Maybe i shouldnt have spoken to him in only his own lyrics, and maybe i shouldnt have called him a cunt........ But come on, Ronan keating?? As if you wouldnt!!
(Sun 7th Feb 2010, 20:35, More)

» Hitchhiking and fare dodging

After a discussion in my local bar the night preceeding the opening day of camp bestival
2 friends and I joked about breaking into camp bestival in a home-made ghillie suit. Earlier in the day we had bought a type-writer from a charity shop, so began to construct a document explaining how we would get in. The landlord printed off a map of the grounds and we phoned a freind who was already inside with an artist pass to give us a recky on where the gates were etc. Before long, the joke had become a reality and "operation white chocolate" was born. After scouring the map, we decided the most effective chance of entry would be through the campervan field which backed onto some woods. Now all we needed was a way of getting to lulworth, when as if fate had called him, our freind turned up, a local fisherman. He said he was off for bass up by the isle of white and would be going past lulworth, leaving at about 10, he'd let us jump aboard, Excellent. Shit had now got real, so we downed our pints and headed home to begin work on the ghillie suits before it was too late.

I woke up at the arse crack of dawn, finished making my attire and packed the completed ghillie suit into a suitable suitcase and jumped on the bus down to the local pub to meet my freinds.
Upon arrival, it turned out I was the only one who had actually bothered to make a suit. Gibbs was dressed as Hunter S Thompson, complete with the charity shop typewriter, and Clarky hadn't bothered at all. We typed the final itinery, complete with estimated times. We planned to land at lulworth, storm the beach, then walk a couple of miles up to the festival grounds, where we would determine our position, and begin the assault.
With a crate of premium lager, and already half cut on mojitos we walked the harbour and boarded the small fishing vessel.
Our freind Tom guided us up to lulworth bay, but as we begun to approach told us he couldn't get in too close because of the rocks, we would have to jump aboard. So in we jumped, Hunter S Thompson, a bush, and an old guy with a large camera, luckily it was only waist deep.

We stormed the beach as anticipated and were met by the tutting of a crowd of disgruntled tourists.
This was all thirsty work, and we'd sunk the majority of the beer on the boat ride over, so we went to the pub, who were as accommodating as they were baffled considering we were three wet and drunken idiots. After a couple more drinks we began the walk.
After getting about 50 metres up the hill, we decided walking wasn't doing us any good, so decided we'd attempt a hitchhike.
Perhaps it was the majesty of Gibb's thumb, but as if by magic the first car to drive by pulled over and told us to get in the back. He was a london geezer on holiday with his 10 year old daughter, who was in the front seat.
He told his daughter she was never to pick up 3 strangers in fancy dress, half-wet, and drunk when she was older, then drove us up to the festival.

At this point the map had been lost, and we'd abandoned any thought that things were going to go smoothly, so we jumped into the forset and walked in a random direction whilst cracking open the last of the tinnies. About 40 minutes later, we found the perimeter fence, and found that somehow we'd ended up exactly where intended. we sat and watched the gaurd at the opening to the entrance of the camper field and decided I should go first as I had the camoflague. Off I went on all fours, shuffling a few metres at a time, and stopping when he turned round, when I noticed he had walked to the further side of the entrance, it was my chance, I sprinted through the gate, slipped between a couple of campervans and immediately discarded the ghillie suit. When I looked back toward the entrance my two freinds had been rumbled.

I made found our mole on the inside and explained the situation, asked to borrow his mobile telecommunication device and made contact with the rest of the team.
Turned out, they told the security they were meeting somebody who had the tickets but had got lost, so security drove them to the main gate where in the confusion they slipped away. Unaware that they were inside the festival, they drunkenly stumbled to the heras fence and broke out of the festival.
They were now walking the fence looking for another way in when they stumbled into a group of chavs, who had wristbands but wanted to break in anyway. They found a gap in the fence and rushed it, the security caught the hoodlums, leaving my freinds to slip in unnoticed.
Once inside the festival we begun to have fun, but hadnt counted on the split camping and stage area, they had security on the entrance to the camping who were checking wristbands. All the music was finished and the arena was being cleared out.

So we were sleeping rough in a hedge on the edge of lulworth castle. The first night was ok, but after aquiring some MDMA on the second day, and dancing our tits off to house of pain and blondie (she had a keytarist!)all night, the second sleep was hell, we were caught by security and had were chased for ages before diving into a hedge. The gaurd walked right up to it and we could see his feet turning as he was looking for us, finally he lift, but we didnt want to risk moving out of the bush unitl the morning.
I was coming down hard, had no water, or booze,was shivering and was stuck in a hedge. I didnt think things would get much worse, but I was wrong. Turns out I was underneath a nest of somekind, I found out when a bird shat on my face, grim.

The following afternoon we decided we couldnt last another night in the cold hedge, some freinds of ours were leaving and agreed to give us a lift home, so after an adventurous weekend, we set off home, but not after stopping off at the local to tell our tale.
(Thu 21st Aug 2014, 16:12, More)

» Caught!

The morning after new years eve a couple of years ago
i was performing the traditional walk of shame back home. i had somehow lost my belt and was keeping my jeans up (they were very baggy) by keeping my hands in my pockets. i got on a bus that was like gods waiting room and went to pay for my fare,in doing so i foolishly removed my hands from my pockets. inevitably my trousers fell to my feet. this would not have been such a traumatic ordeal had i not been wearing a "pirate" thong, with an eye patch, a googly eye, a "nose" and a "moustache". i was so embarrased that i didnt even bend down to pull them up,everyone had seen anyway, i just waddled to the nearest empty seat with my jacobs flapping like a flag in a gentle breeze and a sinking sense of shame.
(Tue 8th Jun 2010, 19:03, More)

» Heckles II

I was at camp bestival a couple of years ago and visited the comedy tent
The comedian was telling jokes that sort of left a pause, then he would hit you with the punchline. he wasnt receiving many laughs and wasnt that funny. After about 5 minutes into his act, a young boy of about 9 or 10 started standing up during the pause the comdian left, shouting out the punchline and then sitting back down again, much to everybodys amusement. It turns out he had watched the same comedian the evening before and remembered a lot of the jokes. The comedian had no control over the situation and began to get embarrassed and slightly angry. In the end, he'd had enough and said something along the lines of "If you can do this better than me then be my guest", at which point the kid got up, and pulled from his pocket a joke book. The crowd was in stitches as the boy told joke after joke from his book, while the comedian quietly shuffled off the stage.
I couldn't believe that I had seen a fully grown man heckled off stage by a ten year old child. What a low point of the poor chaps career...Bloody hilarious though.
(Fri 13th Jun 2014, 12:20, More)