Just a little dinner party.

We turn up around 3pm at Andy’s flat for his dinner party, I’m carrying a large crate of booze and a bottle of wine. I knock on the door to find Andy in a comedy style apron, It’s got the picture of a muscular body and it’s something Andy doesn’t have. We walk through his front door to find around 10 people sitting around on the floor starving and already drunk and talking, foo fighters play low in the back ground as they sit around in a circle like school children waiting for the teach to walk in. We take a seat on the sofa near doors that lead on to a small balcony. I only know two of the people sitting on the floor and I say hello to them and introduce them to my girlfriend and then we both listen in to the conversation taking place. A guy sitting to my right introduced himself “I’m Steve”
“I’m Steve too”
“Well at least we have something in common”
Steve then starts to continue a conversation about music he says to the group on the floor “One direction can do what they want and anybody who doesn’t like them don’t have to listen to them. A girl at the back shouts up “I bloody love one direction” Andy from the kitchen then shouts in “Get out of my flat now Kate” and she replies “Of, fuck off Andy and cook your spuds”.
Steve looks up at me and says “lets go to the balcony so I can have a smoke before it gets heated in here, I can be bothered to argue about One direction”. I turn to my girlfriend and say “ill be back in a minute, this guy wants to make friends” so I get up and walk through the balcony doors and stand looking over the car park as Steve lights his cigarette. Steve turns to me and says “do you like music?”
“Well I’m in a band so I have to”
“Any favourite types of music?”
“I love the Beatles and hell of a lot of folk music”
“That’s interesting”
“I don’t really mind what type of music, I’ll listen to anything”
“But not Justin Bieber though?”
“No, that’s not my thing, I don’t care for him, but I’m not going to stand around attacking him, he can do whatever the hell he wants to do”.
“I’ve always thought the same thing”.
Steve finishes his cigarette and we head back inside and sit back down. The conversation has now changed to Rhianna. Kate has now started a major rant about how Rhianna is ruining music. “YOU KNOW SHE CAN’T SING AND SHES BORING LIVE AND I WISH PEOPLE WOULD LISTEN TO REAL MUSIC AND REAL ARTISTS” she says and then turns to her friends Billy and he just looks at her and says “you’ve drank too much”
“No I haven’t, I haven’t had enough”.
Steve then buts in and says to Kate “How can you say what good music is and what’s real music and who real artists are? The way people feel about Rhianna, Justin Bieber and One Direction feel the same way you do about the bands and singers you like. And in turn they for some reason have same hatred you do for the artists you love. Can’t you just enjoy it and let singers and bands do what ever the fuck they want and make the music the way they want to.”
“But Steve they suck”
“So does everything Kate”.
Andy calls me and my girlfriend over, so we walk over to him and he hands us our drinks and says “Are they still arguing in there?”
“Yeah they are”.
My girlfriend says “I actually like One Direction and Justin Bieber”.
Me and Andy laugh and then Andy says to us “You know while I’ve been making this roast dinner I’ve been thinking that Justin Bieber might be the new Elvis. Who pissed off people in the 50’s more than Elvis. Justin Bieber goes around dancing and shaking all over and all the girls faint and all the smart people sneer at it just like they did with Elvis. Elvis stood up and stage and made girls burst with screams and would faint before him and he was called the devil and now Justin Bieber is the same. In 50 years time the way smart music fans who love Elvis and The Beatles now will see Justin Bieber and One Direction the same and none of us will ever understand why and that’s ok”.
“It’s a good thing”
“It’s a great thing Steve, any musician or singer that pisses off smart music fans just shows you how institutionalized music fans and even movie fans can be”.
“I don’t like Justin Bieber though”
“Neither do I, I think he’s dog shit but if I was the age I am now and It was 1956 and chuck berry came on id probably say the same thing about him and say where the fuck is Frank Sinatra, he’s a real singer”.
We make our way back into the living to find the argument still going on, this time the arguments attention has turned towards the X Factor and then Andy from the other room shouts “DINNER IS NEARLY READY SO SHUT THE FUCK UP ARGUING ABOUT MUSIC AND X FACTOR AND WHOS BETTER, ALL I CARE FOR RIGHT NOW IS IF ANYONE OF YOU SHITES LIKE MY ROAST SPUDS”.

Pink Dress. 1.

Standing outside the nightclub at
5 in the morning, ears ringing from
the crappy music that played inside.

Surrounded by loud people, smoking,
laughing and talking about football
when a girl in a pink dress with dark
hair and big boobs and curvy thighs
walks up to me and lays a fat kiss
across my lips.

And I just go with it, why the fuck
not I thought, why the fuck not, as
she breaks my mouth and tongue

After a minute she stops, grabs my
hand and say lets follow your mates
and (taking off her pink shoes before we walk)
we make our way to the takeaway.

We stand outside this crappy old kebab
joint for more than five minutes, stroking
and mouth wrestling with each other.

My friends walk out the door and
I bid her farewell, she lays one more
on me and walks away blowing
me a kiss as she leaves.

I’ve been stroked in all places, I’m
giddy and happy and I will most
likely never see her again.
No name.
No number.
Just a girl in a pink dress and
really sore mouth.

Sunstroke and seagulls…

It’s the height of the summer and me and my girlfriend walk along the high street in the center of the seaside town of Lowestoft as the sun shines on down and surrounded by seagulls the size of fruit bats and screeching like cats falling off a bridge. We walk by shops of all kinds, clothes shops, toy shops and gadget shops. Bike shops, electronic shops and phone shops and pound shops. We walk part 3 clothes shops in a row and see signs saying “closing down sale, 25% off of everything in store”. All down the high street shops every where saying closing down sale, new owners soon even the MacDonald’s on the corner is closing down at the end of the month.
We walk into one shop, a sweet and American candy shop nearer to the sea front and over hear an older couple talking to the cashier. The cashier tells them that six shops around here will be closing in the next two months.
I turn to Sarah my girlfriend “Pick those up, those weird looking frog things, the red ones”
“These ones”
“Yeah, those”
We walk up to the till and pay for the little red frogs and before we leave the little old ladies stop and one of them with big grey hair and big long red dress and tanned skin says “you live here or you on holiday”
“We are on holiday” says my girlfriend”
“Sorry all the shops are closing, that’s why we voted for those UKIP people, they will keep them open”
“Well thank you”
And we both left as quickly as we can and headed towards the arcades before we get a lecture about right wing politics.
We walk through the blazing sun dodging all the fruit bats flying above us looking for food and we go into the arcade on the south pier. I walk through the doors and the ever familiar sound of arcade games hit me and memories fill my head. The 2p machine on the left and the crane game on the right. The funny sounds and noises that don’t make sense and the weird names like surfer push and panic pull. And everywhere I look I see Minions, this little yellow blob thing with a smiley face with a different costume on. Soldier, Baby, Rock Star some even carry bananas. When I was young it was just dogs and cats and the odd Homer Simpson now it’s these little yellow creatures and still the odd dog and cat here and there.
We walk towards the crane machine near the back of the arcade passing by all the bike games and shoot em up games, this one has teddy bears in with £5 notes attached to it’s chest. I start, it’ £1 ago and you get five goes at it. I try and try and nothing, it pick it up and drops it like a damp sock back onto the cotton top that is lays on and the stupid music of plays over it. Patronizing you through song.
£10 in and I’m still trying, my girlfriend has given up watching me and has walked off towards a bingo game but I stick at it and put another £5 into the machine and still nothing. £15 and I’ve not achieved anything. The bear just lays at the bottom on the cotton top and the crane hangs above swinging like it just don’t care and the patronizing music plays on as I walk away with a glum face. I just feel like punching the thing.
As I’m walking away my girlfriend comes over and I tell her I tried to win a teddy but I didn’t work, so she gives it ago. She puts £1 in like me and on her third try she picks it up and drops into the hole and she’s won. On £1. I shift through my pocket and find £5 where there was once £20 and she runs off with a teddy and £5 winnings and out of the arcade and I follow with disappointment.
We leave the arcade and head towards the beach picking up five doughnuts and the traditional seaside rock and we hang about the beach for a while. The beach is covered in rocks and stones and going bear foot the hot stones as the sun blazes on down over them would be like walking over a volcano.
The sun becomes too much and we run for the bus while finishing off our doughnuts and dodging the screeching bastard birds over head looking to snatch one of them out of our hand.
We make it back to the caravan and I had for the sink and splash cold water over my face and then I go and lay down on the bed and drift off into a deep sleep for a few hours and recover from the walking, birds, shops and arcade disappointment.
When I wake up I’m soaked with sweat, my mouth feels like a dried up leaf and my head like it is being pounded by irons rods. I keep going cold as well but I’m dripping with sweat. I run to the living room and ask my girlfriend for some tablets because I think I’m going to die right now. “Shall we go to the zoo in abit?” She says “the zoo, I feel like I’m dying here”
“You’re probably getting a cold”
“It don’t feel like any cold I’ve ever had before”.
I check online to see if I’m coming down with a cold or flu, it just doesn’t feel like any of them so I have to make sure. I put in the symptoms. I’m covered in sweat, I keep having hot moments and colds and my mouth is dry. The first thing that comes up is sunstroke and I know about this, it can kill you. So I tell my girlfriend I think I have sunstroke and I pour myself a cold drink and jump in the shower and turn to the tap to cold and the water hits my like a thousand knives and I feel like I’m going to collapse but I fight through it.
When I leave he shower my girlfriend looks at my back “You know, your whole neck is red”
“that’s probably why I have sunstroke”
She feels my neck “It’s so bloody hot.. You sure you don’t want to go to zoo?”
“Are there any meerkat’s?”
“Maybe tomorrow, I’m gonna go for a lie down my head is going to fall off”
I walk into the bedroom and collapse onto the bed and drift back into a deep sleep as my skin pours with sweat.

A small tale of rock, hotels and prostitutes.

It’s the middle of February and we run out of the hotel in Leeds at 2:00 pm as the snow starts to fall. We have to make it to Manchester for a gig at 9:00pm so we just throw everything into the car, all the gear drums, amps, guitars stuffed into the back with hardly any room left for me. Everything in the back but a fridge and a flat pack desk. The night before we played our 5th gig on the tour to a packed house full of goths, emo’s and punks and we didn’t give a shit if they liked us or not, we were on our first rock and roll tour and we are playing on 3 hours sleep and drunk out of our minds. We played for 35 minutes and on the last song the crowd jumped on stage with us and danced and crowd surfed the night away.
We get onto the road and instantly hit traffic and we see people moving faster than us trying to take cover from the snow which has now slowly turned into a mini blizzard, but we are safe and warm in the car listening to the Beatles. There’s nothing more peaceful and comforting than sitting in a car surrounded by gear and listening to rock and roll while sipping on a can of bud. I look out the window at the bus stop top a see an old man asleep on his wifes shoulder. We didn’t move from the same spot for 30 minutes and all the time he slept on his wives shoulder as she kept his hands warm. And I’m in a warm car having the best time of my life and all I can do at this moment is look at the couple at the bus stop and I think what was the best time of their lives. Was It their wedding day, the day they had their fist child or even the first time they went on holiday together. I’m on tour with my best mates playing rock and roll and sitting in a car drinking beer.
Two hours into the drive and the old couple have now gone and it’s now dark. The snow has disappeared but we are still stuck in traffic. The driver and bassist Liam turns around to me as we get stuck on a bride and says “I’ve just noticed, I ripped my pocket”
“What from climbing the wall last night”
“I think so yeah”. After the gig last night we decided to hit the town. We went into a geek club at one point and I had a conversation with a life like statue of Darth Maul. I looked deep into his eyes as I ate a dip dab and drinking a pint of Guinness and talked to him about philosophy, the meaning of life and the purpose or why before falling back off my chair and onto the floor. We left the club around 3 and started to walk back to the hotel when Liam turned to everyone and realized that he need to top up the machine in the car park for the car. So we started to walk to the car park and when we got there it was closed so Liam thought it would be a good idea to break in. So for the next 20 minutes he preceded to climb a wall like drunken spider-man, a spider-man that has really let himself go and forgot his costume. He paid the top up fee and got into his car and drove around the car park papping his horn and then reversed into a space near a wall, he got out jumped on the roof and over the wall as we walked around to get him where we found him lying on the floor asking for Gollum of the Shire.
When we made it back to the hotel we signed in a took the lift to our floor. Before the doors of the lift closed me and our band manager Dave decided to have a little mosh pit and my head got stuck in the doors and thus breaking the lift for a good ten minutes. Once we made it to our floor I decided it would be a good idea to run down the hall way banging on the doors but eventually I made it my room where I passed out on the bed next to Liam as he played cock or ball with himself.
In the car Ryan the singer and guitarist turned to me and said “Did you hear the guy at the door after you fell sleep last night”
“The security guard from downstairs came to the room and said if the little pissed one didn’t calm down I’ll be thrown out on my small arse”
“Well I didn’t hear a thing, plus Liam is bigger than he was so he would have had to go through him first”.
Six hours into the drive and we finally make it to Manchester, we got through the traffic and made it. We get a phone call from the other tour car and it’s Dave. He and Jay (the lead guitarist) have made it before we did and are waiting, they checked into the hotel and are at the venue and they are watching a band and we are on next and we need to get there fast. We search and we search and we can’t find it so we ask a local to help and he gives us directions. We Finally make it, we park up and throw everything inside as the last band finish up their set. We set up fast and do our line check and we start to play. We put everything into it, a 6 hour drive and we perform to three people, the doorman and the two bar staff. We finish our set to silence and we are covered into sweat.
After packing up we stand at the bar chatting away about what we are going to do next when two of woman walk in from the local prostitution scene and they come over to us and they know almost straight away that we are in a band. One had no teeth and the other had a wooden leg. They stand with us for the next 3 hours asking us questions and telling us how handsome we are and how cool it is to be talking to blokes in a band. I can barely make out what any of them are saying. When we leave they try to persuade us to stay but we don’t.
We go to a local shop and grab a case of beer each and then walk around for the next hour looking for a place to pick up a pizza. We ask the local drunks for some assistance but all them tell us to avoid every pizza place around Manchester. We finally find a place and pick up the cheapest ones we can get and we then make a move to our hotel. Jay tells us we will love this place when we get there. We walked through the doors to a lobby with a fountain and palm trees and a sign saying it’s happy hour all the time at the bar. We get into the lift and it starts to make a noise that great horror movie film makers would be proud of. We finally get to our room, tired, hungry and drunk and a little relived the lift hadn’t turned into a serial killed and hacked us to death. When we walk through the doors and we are hit with a wave of heat Jay says “Oh yeah I forgot to mention the air conditioning is broke and it’s stuck on hot, but don’t worry because some left us a message in purple lip stick”. I go into the bathroom to find the message “Owen will fuck you hard in the arse for £50p like a good man”.
We start to settle into the room and finish off our pizza and we all agree it’s the worst pizza any of us have every eaten and we are experts, we are in a band. For the next three hours exhausted and drunk and we play games and jam on a acoustic guitar coming up with the worst songs in the history of pop music and none of us cared. I finally laid down to rest around 6 with the thought running in my head. Best time ever.

A fancy event.

I turn up to the wedding at 7:30pm after spending £15 on a taxi to get there. I thought id wear my fancy coat, a long grey jacket, like something from an old gangster movie staring James Cagney. I’m already a little drunk after downing 6 cans before leaving for the event. I make my way through a hall way and push open the large wooden door which is covered in the typical white balloons and fancy strings and velvet cloth. I look around the room at the see of table and I don’t know anybody, I only know some of the guests that are attending and I can’t see them. I don’t know the bride or groom and they don’t know me. I scan the scene as best I can for the table of friends, I can hear the music and I can see disco lights blaring out flashing out as people I don’t even recognize dance to Aerosmith. I see the group of friends waving in the corner and it’s the people that I know so I make my way around tables full of unknown faces as they stare at me and I try to avoid eye contact as best as I can as I dash and doge my way through tables. I’m greeted like a lost soul as I make it to the table and sit down. I take my coat off and I’m handed a glass of beer, all the champagne as been drank at this point and everyone at the table has a glassy stare like me. “This music is shit, why don’t they play something else” a friend says and I say “I like this music, it’s bloody Aerosmith, it’s wedding music, kind of”
“Well, it’s shit and stupid”
“People are dancing”
“Well, still shit, don’t matter if people are dancing when it’s shit”.
The conversation changes from the music as a face I don’t recognize brings up the EU referendum and how things will change for the better now we are out. I don’t even know what happened during the wedding and the first thing I have to talk about the EU mess.
She says her name is Christine, she says “We can control the borders alot better now we are out, we got out at the right time” all I can do Is an awkward laugh like a child pretending to get a rude joke, “we will be better off” she continued. My friend next to me puts his view on the situation in “I don’t really care, I couldn’t give a shit, it don’t make sense to me, I hate all these politicians, I don’t like them”.
The conversation was cut short for a couple of minutes as a friend from work, Rob, pissed as all hell came over to the table with a shot for me. He banged the shot on the table and said “There ya go dude”. I took the shot back like a good friend and said Thanks. “Hey where did you get that jacket from, I want one” he said. “I got last year, I don’t remember the shop I got it from”
“It’s a nice jacket dude, I’m gonna have a look for one”. Rob stumbles back and I grab his arm “I’ve had too much to drink” he said “We were talking about the EU before you came over” I said “oh that shit, I can’t be arsed with that, Boris Jonson will be the president in October”. Then he stumbles back again and walks off towards his own table. Catherine gets up from out table and walks towards the dance floor. My friend Chris who sitting next to me says “I hate all this EU bollocks, I just can’t be doing with it, shall we go for a smoke and leave all these lot to it, I think they all want to go up and dance now anyway”
“Yeah, ok lets go outside for abit”.
 We make our way outside and stand by the wall in as the sun goes down over the horizon. Chris puts his back to the wall and lights up a cigar as I stand looking at the sun with a glass of beer in my hand. We just stand in silence and look around at the surroundings until out of nowhere the nowhere the sound of roaring engines rises up like the sound of Godzilla waking up in the morning. Motorbikes come roaring past, too many to count on both hands. The roar past like spitfires, 12, 13, 14, 15 bikes and more. Leather jackets and long haired men riding like the Angels. Only Hunter Thompson is missing from the line up of outlaw types. Both Chris and I look at each other as they ride off into the sun and I say “Well who would have thought we would be at a wedding arguing about the EU and then come outside and see a load of blokes in what looks like a biker gang ride by into the sun set” Chris just shugs his shoulders and we make our way back inside as everyone on the dance floor dances to the Rolling Stones. I sit down at the table and Catherine turns to me and says “What about the damn borders?”

Small tale of a rehearsal room.

It’s been a year since we entered the rehearsal space. Walking through the doors for the first time in a long time after regrouping. The smell of sweat and stale beer and the odour of green leaves hits my face as I walk into the room. The feeling of happiness flows through me as I see the drums sitting in the corner and the all to familiar target on the ceiling. It’s time to shake off the dust and hit the skins again. I can’t stop thinking about bands that break up and get back together all the time, find new members and find new styles but when you get that one band, the one band with the right members, it’s just magical. Everything fits together perfectly, it has a glue that’s stronger than others and you make music better than anybody else in the world and you do it all in that tiny smelly room for 2 or 3 hours a day and you come out stinking of sweat and blisters on your fingers. I just hope that we are still that band, a year can change a band. We have broken up and got back together so many times before and this might be the last time we go for it.

I sit behind the kit after setting up and start to play, but I’m rusty as a garage door and I play heavy, it only took a year and I’ve already lost that feeling. I just can’t bloody play, I try and try and try and it’s just not working. I don’t have the feel any more, I cross my sticks and I stutter. My foots never been the best at the peddle and I’ve never been a flashy drummer but please give me some slack at least. I turn to the bassist as he strums his string and he barely makes a noise and he looks at me and shakes his head “It feels crap don’t it” I say to him
“Yeah, it aint good mate, but fuck it”. And then the guitars kick in and they make a sound like Godzilla. We start to play an old song and we barely recognise it, we’re out of time and we keep slowing down and speeding up and the vocals sound like boiling vegetables. We’re not the band we used to be. Is this how it was for Led Zeppelin when they got back together?

For the first hour and a half we just run through all the old songs and it’s not working, nothing is clicking, we just can’t get our rhythm back . Has it been too long this time? Have we lost all feeling of being a band? I just think to myself we left it too long, we should have carried on like we used to and kept going, not take a year off, look what it’s done to us, we can’t even play, I keep dropping my sticks and missing parts, the singer keeps getting out of breath and the guitars and the bass sound like old cars trying to start in the winter (Marc Bolan never had to go through this). “Let’s take ten minutes, have a quick beer and come back in” the bassist says through a whistling microphone. So we go outside and sit on the wall with a can of fosters in our hands. The singer says “It’s just not working”
“Well lets just sit here for ten fucking minutes and see what happens” I said.
“Well alright than, by the way what’s the deal with the Ramones? The guy can’t sing”. I can’t believe what I’m hearing one of my favourite bands is being put down “What do you mean he can’t sing, of course he can’t fucking sing, it’s the bloody Ramones” I say with an anger of a small child who opens up a Christmas present to find clothes have been delivered “Yeah but he can’t sing”
“I don’t want him to sing, shall we just go back in I’m getting bored”.

We get in the room and I sit back behind the kit and I keep thinking in my head that this is abit of a waste of time, it’s not working and I just want to get pissed. “Lets do another old song, The Destroyer” I said, so we start to play, but something happens and it comes out of nowhere and it clicks, we can play again, everything is in time and the speed is right and the vocals fit. This is how it should be, it feels like a band again, it feels like we can play.
When we finish the song I shout “That’s how you fucking do it, lets do another” so we play another and another and it works again, it feels right and it’s magic. That old band that was missing, the band we left in this room a year ago is still here, we just couldn’t find it. It was lost somewhere and we found it again, we just had to search for it and when we did we found it with a smile on it’s face and a sign that said play me. We play and play until we have to finish and when we finish those blisters had come back, the sweat is back on our backs again and we really need a drink.

The first practice in a year is over and when we leave the feeling of relief hits us, we can still play and we can still play pretty good. Our fingers might be in pain, sore and blistered and we might be hot and looking to get drunk like a proper band should do but we played well, we found what we were looking for in that room.

We escaped the world for a 3 hours today and we played music and we played it well. We might have done gigs in the past to 3 people and come off stage the silence, we might even have played a gig to 30 people and played shit but when you’re in that rehearsal room everything can fall into place better than anything, you turn into the best band in the world. The world outside just doesn’t exist while you’re in there, it just moves on and you’re not apart of it for that time. When we leave it’s just like that, it’s just the same as it always is. The world is moved forward without us. Somethings happening with EU, a poor politician has been killed and Nigel Farage has pissed people off with a poster but at the moment we don’t care because it didn’t happen on our time. And it’s ok not to care because for that moment we weren’t apart of it. Everyone else saw it but we didn’t. And that’s ok, we’re a band, and that’s all that matters.

A small tale of mud, sex and music.

It’s 12:30am and me and my friend Sam start our walk back to the camp site in the pouring rain after watching Rammstein headline the main stage. It’s turning into the longest walk of our lives, we spent two hours being kicked, punched, pushed and pulled into mosh pits by some of the meanest, filthiest of rock n roll types the earth can ever spit out of it’s unholy mouth and we were in the center of it. We walk through mud and muck and deep puddles as the rain keeps on coming down as we drag our wet selfs along side thousands of drunk head bangers and stoners back to the camp site.


45 minutes into our walk and we enter the village and the smell of fried food hits out noses like fog. Neither of us realized how hungry we both were, the gig and the walk and our drunkenness took the focus away from our stomachs and all it took was the smell of fried onions and hot dogs to kick the senses off. So me and Sam trudge through the mud over to the nearest stall selling hot dogs. We hand over wet notes, grab the dogs covered in onions and smother it with mustard and red sauce and we take cover under hood of the stall and just savor every bite we take and watch the crowd of thousands make their way through a swamp of mud and water.

A man comes over to us covered in dirt and he’s obviously been wrestling in the mud. He orders himself a large jumbo hot dog and covers it sauce and he stands next to us while he eats. “How you doing lads” he says to us “We are alright”

“Did you enjoy Rammstein”

“They were amazing”

Sam asks him “you look like you had fun”

“Yeah, I’ve been in a mosh pit all day and kept slipping over on the mud and I thought id take everyone out with me. This isn’t the worst it’s ever been, I was here in 2012 and it didn’t stop all weekend, it’s just kept coming and coming all weekend, it’s meant to stop tomorrow”

“Bloody hope so” I said.

“Right lads, I’m going, I’m doing an all nighter”

And he threw the remains of his hot dog into the mud and ran away.

We finally made it back to the camp satisfied and we started to search for our tent. We scan the sea of tents and neither of us can make out where it is so we walk through the camp treading gingerly over the ties trying not to trip or even slip on the wet grass, which at this moment in time is hard considering we are half drunk and suffering from second hand highness. Sam thinks he spots something “Found it” he says and starts to open the tent “WRONG TENT, WRONG TENT”.

“Sorry pal” it wasn’t our tent.

I see it in the distance “There it is” I say to Sam and we make our way like zombies through the mass of tents surrounding us.

We finally get into our tent, taking off our wet clothes and muddy wellies and finally lay our heads onto a cold damp tent mat but the tent next to us which is occupied by 8 men kept us awake for most of the night. One of the guys had brought back a goth girl and was trying to have sex with her but his friends, the meanest of the bunch thought thats not going to happen tonight, so for the next 3 hours they decided to say some of the most evil of jokes to him.”HEY JONO, YOU GOT IT UP YET”



This went on and on and the whole camp site was all ears to the situation that was happening.

After a matter of hours, jokes after jokes and Jono trying hard to do the job, it all went quiet and the girl piped up and shouted “fuck this I’m going back to my tent” and Jono like the good chap he is walks her back. But about and hour later whispers start coming from the tent and the sounds of moaning and heavy breathing flow through the quiet festival air, maybe Jono brought the girl back and got lucky.

When we wake up the next day it’s still raining but not as heavy as the night before now and we both crack open a can of beer. Our legs, our feet and our backs hurt and we love every minute of it. Jono and his mates sit near by and we hear about the events that happened the night before. Jono just didn’t like the goth girl that much so after trying and trying and trying to get his end away he decided to walk her back to her tent. When he got her back safely thats when he spotted her sister and asked her to come back with him instead. Thats what I must have heard during the early hours of the morning.

We make our way back to the village in search of a bacon and egg sandwich and we look around the camp as we walk with our beers. We just see the mass of hungover and dirty people, some leaving tents covered in a mud with a towel in their hands and looking for the showers. Some sitting around a bbq cooking sausages and drinking beer and some look like they just made it back to the camp after pulling an all nighter.

We get to the village walking past people lining up for the bogs and the smell coming from them could melt your eyebrows straight off your face. During the night the festival organizers covered the mud filled village with hay, but it’s failed and the mud just keeps on coming through as thousands of people walk over it.

We finally start to que at a stall that serves Breakfast and wait in a line of about 20 all asking for a bacon sandwich. I turn to Sam and I say to him “You know what Sam we are at fucking Download, it’s raining, it’s cold, we are covered in and we might be in pain and tempted for a poo, but we are waiting in line for a bacon sandwich with a can in our hands and recovering from watching Rammstein last night and tonight we will be making our way through mud and along with every one else will be waiting for Black Sabbath to hit the stage. We might be surrounded by security guards, we might get searched for drugs everywhere we go, we might not be allowed to bring cans into the main arena and we might have to show our wrist bands every time we enter the village at night, but bloody hell dude, It’s fucking Download. ”

“All I care about now Ste is my bloody bacon sandwich, but yeah it’s Download”.

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