Busterrr!
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Posts posted by Busterrr!
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there used to be a classical stage.
presumably it got dropped cos of a lack of interest.
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Another Edmondson, this time daughter Ella,
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My brother tore his frenulum during sex.
Due to the health and safety risk attached to the act of copulation, it is now recommended that sex no longer takes place, at anytime, at any place in the world.
In about 80 years or so, the problem will no longer have any relevance and the earth can then get on with whatever it would be getting on with.
Ahh! Such a peaceful place. No media hysteria about anything.
Newspaper headlines are killing our way of life.
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Back in 1984, my mate's mum told us to take a jumper. As it was summer and we were ignorant 16 year olds, we laughed heartily at her for making this silly suggestion.
In 1985 and every year since, jumpers have been an unmentioned, necessity.
This year, my own son and his mates are going. He is 16 and ignorant. I told him to take a jumper; he and his friends laughed at me for making this silly suggestion.
Please, to any who will listen, take a jumper, lots of jumpers. It gets cold at night.
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It might add a little to your overall pack size, but take the makings for hot drinks.
A hot chocolate before bed will warm the cockles, especially at 5 in the morning.
And laying, half dozing in your nice warm sleeping bag with a late morning cup of tea and a smoke is heaven on earth.
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I know it's a crazy idea, but why not take less!
Less to worry about, less to consume, less to have to take back to the car, less to leave behind when you can't be arsed to take it back to the car.
Year on year, I am amazed at what people take on site with them, horrified at what they leave.
FFS, this year I even followed a guy wheeling in a microwave oven on his sack truck. When I asked him what the plan was, he was under the impression that power points were provided!
Leave your cozy notions of civilization at home, experience some semblance of nature. Who knows, we might even begin to respect the place a bit more. At the very least getting in and out might be a bit easier without having to tip toe through the broken wheels and tires.
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...
If you stayed within the pyramid then you missed out on oh so much....
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This thread makes me smile!
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I pee'd once in a hedge.
I fell asleep during my stewarding shift at the Strummerville camp fire in Arcadia. It was early in the morning, the fire was cozy and the armchair absolute bliss.
I'm so sorry!
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What amazes me most about this thread is the fact that most are bemoaning that others didn't exhibit common courtesy, showed ignorance and didn't consider the other person.
Yet the shear amount of posts here, calling people c**ts, pricks, scum, twats & twonk defies belief. If I'm reading this right, people can say or do what they like, just so long as they agree with you or do as you do?
Get real people, life and society are diverse things. There are many socio-economic groups that didn't benefit from a nice cosy upbringing and as a result they don't always behave in the way that the average Daily Mail reader would expect.
Yes, some things annoy, but seriously get a grip and a sense of perspective. I hope you little clique of vocal and disatisfied punters signed up to the many campaigns or contributed to the many issues being discussed in and around the green fields.
Perhaps if you looked hard enough, you might have found the Women's Movement against flag proliferation, or perhaps the Red Wedge campaigning against camping chairs, maybe Green Peace could hit the festival crowd with a leaflet drop, asking the naughty men not to wee on your wellies; but I suspect they had bigger fish to fry!
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Wow! Looks like the righteous middle class festival goers returned in force this year!
Talk of chavs, people making a noise at night, a taxi services to the car parks wanted, coked up scum, 3 blokes out of a whole audience ruining it for the rest, not enough camping space for you when you decided to show up, people having fires, etc. etc. etc.
WELCOME TO GLASTONBURY FESTIVAL! A massive party on a farm in a rural area, where people come for fun.
Can't stand the noise, get ear plugs.
Bloke in the crowd pissing you off, move - the likelihood is that all your tutting is pissing him off too!
Don't like scum, stick to Glyndebourne.
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I'm liking the look of the Shangri La, 3 x 6 hour shifts and especially liking the look of the midnight til 6:00 slot.
It beats the 8 or 10 hour shift patterns of security and the 6 x 4 hour shifts of the dance village.
Working the festival is a very good way to do the festival; meeting people and getting involved.
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I'm a Shangri La steward too, but am working over at the Arcadia stage.
Out of all the stewarding and security jobs I've done over the years, this one looks to be the best.
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Get a spud and cover it in foil. Pop it on the fire for an hour or two.
Get a Camembert in one of those round wooden boxes. Cover it in foil, and pop it on the fire for 5 minutes or so.
Get both out of the fire, open spud, open cheese, cut spud and pour now melted camembert into potato.
Slooooo!
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1984
When I was 16, I remember saying to my mum, "I'm going to Pilton this year!" She replied by warning me, "Well just so long as you know people do drugs there, go nekkid, sleep around and generally misbehave!"
"Really!" I responded with feigned shock. "Well, I'll be careful. I'm sure the lads will look after me!"
The lads were a group of motorcyclists I was friendly with and we travelled over from Burnham-on-Sea on the Somerset coast about 20 miles away from G'bury. Because of my age, I was only allowed to ride a whinny little 50cc motorbike and our largish group of bikes had to travel at 35 Mph all the way.
In those days, there was no police presence on site, but the police did have a largish camp outside the fesitval. As we drove by, the outrage and contempt was very apparent on all the policemens faces and I remember feeling quite anxious, even afraid. It didn't help that my friends made snorting noises and made various gestures with their hands. I think I managed to wring at least another 1Mph from my moped by just sheer will.
My tent was a play-tent I got for my 9th Birthday, a blue fabric affair, no ground sheet, no zip to close it - just ties - and definately not waterproof. Of course, being just a mere boy along my colleagues, I was jeered at and laughed at all weekend, but the guys kept me supplied with drink and drugs all weekend and I had the time of my life.
I remember being absolutely blown away by the whole thing and when Monday came, I really didn't want to go home. It felt like how we should all be living all of the time. When I did leave, I was a different person.
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This is my 25th and I've never been this excited!
God! I'm even having trouble sleeping!
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So i'm just doing the annual tent scrub in prep for it standing proud in 2 weeks and what do i find aside from some mould (on the Mrs's side ha ha).
- A packet of go ahead bars.
- A pack of handy andies (still in tact)
- A head torch
- About 3 joints worth of green in a sealed bag.
Obviously the go aheads were binned but the other three are extremely useful especially when one will give me something to do with the rest of my night
Whats the best or most random thing anyone's found in their tent after unpacking it after a previous festival?
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Actually, I'm getting a bit cheesed off at how us scum are being stereotyped and given a bad name by all you 'non-scum.'
It's sickening! Us scum are treated with as much respect as though we were a film of impurities floating atop a liquid mass.
Quite frankly, it's just not on!
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Wow! People really care about this stuff, don't they!
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I've posted this tale before and somewhere on this board it still exists, but for the benefit of this fantastic thread here it is again. It's the last part that disgusts, but it's not half as fun without the build up.
It was some years ago, possibly around the end of the 90s, when a mate's lodging friend, Pete, decided he was going to come along to his first Glastonbury festival. Ordinarily, during the lead up to the festival we would meet around my mate's house to make plans for the imminent event and Pete, sat behind twin computers writing two different sequences of code on each, would listen to our plans. For years he hinted that he might come along, but not until this particular year did he actually get round it.
Now Pete was always a nervy, active sort of fellow, jumping from thought to thought, leaping from activity to activity. He was the sort of person who found it hard to relax and often would be doing five or six things at once, but rarely finishing any of them. "Pete, for gods sake!" we would shout, "Chill out will you? Settle down, kick back a little!"
So it was with great interest that we watched Pete during that festival, to see how he would deal with the whole event. How would he cope with a weekend of total relaxation? Or the lack of computer or electronically produced visual/audio stimuli. The answer was of course simple, "Drugs!"
On the Friday night, after a frantic day of Pete moving tents to exact positions mapped out in his own head, boiling water for endless cups of coffee, collecting water, collecting wood, introducing himself to the entire field, racing from stage to stage, seeing act upon act, Pete needed to slow down and to help he took an amazing cocktail of drink and drugs in pill or natural form. We watched as Pete chilled out, he settled down, kicked back!
It was early Saturday morning after a night of music, cabaret and mayhem, that we returned to our camp only to notice that Pete was still lying in the same spot, back to the campfire, as he was last night when he finally stopped chopping wood, retightening guy ropes and arranging his tent and belongings.
Realizing he hadn't been with us at all that night we pointed and laughed.
"Pete hasn't moved!" chortled one.
"Ha Ha! Pete! He's still in the exact position he was last night!" croaked another.
"My god! He hasn't moved a muscle since last night" declared a third.
"Amazing! I thought Pete would have to be dead before we ever saw him like that!" laughed the last.
We clutched our sides as we guffawed at Pete's still form, but the laughing died out, each of our expressions changing as a horrible realization presented itself in our chemically slowed brains. We looked at each other,
"Shit!" cried one of our number, as he lurched towards Pete's immobile, seemingly inert body.
"Pete!" we shouted, "Pete!"
The one who moved toward him kicked his leg, nothing. Another shook his shoulder, "Pete!" "Pete!"
"Shit! Shit! Shit!" we all flapped, hands on heads, hearts in throats, stomachs lurching.
"F**k's sake boys!", what's the row for, Pete moaned, eyes closed, still not moving.
"Jeezus Pete! We thought you'd carked it or something", one of us exploded. Relief washed over each us one by one and already breathing hard, the massive expulsions of breath betrayed our unfounded concerns.
He lay there, mumbling, "f**king pills, last night, I couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't do anything. I just lay here, mind awake, but body asleep. You lot just f**ked off and left me here, you twats!"
Pete finally rolled up from his position ready to continue the verbal abuse we so rightly deserved for abandoning one of our number, but the annoyed look on his face suddenly dropped away. Something had obviously caught his attention.
"Oh god!", he muttered, "Oh god!". He looked down. "I thought I dreamed that!" he reported somewhat disconsolately has he tentatively prodded his trouser bottoms. Looking up, Pete loudly announced, "I've shit me-self boys! I must have messed myself whilst in that paralysed state last night."
The sniggering started immediately but the laughter lasted all day, all weekend, all year even.
Later on that day, Pete wandering around in just a towel, stepped away from resetting his tent pegs, to inspect his trousers. The sun had baked the contents to a hard brick and with a teaspoon he began to chip away at the perfect arse moulded shape on the inside of his jeans." I'll have this cracked off in about an hour he enthusiastically proclaimed.
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The whole Brothers Cider thing is a brilliant example of how marketing can take a failing and horribly unfashionable product, and with a bit of re-branding, give it an immensly cool image.
During the 50s and 60s, the Showerings family of Shepton Mallet, long established in the manufacturing of Perry Cider, branded their product as Babycham.
With a nice bit of TV advertising, it took off and became quite a popular drink amongst those wishing to drink something a little more glamorous than the usual ales and spirits. But, as wine sales grew in the 70s and 80s, Babycham started to lose market position and also became desperately uncool, quickly becoming the brunt of many jokes in the popular media where its effeminate and unsophisticed image would be used to indicate the sexuality of a male drinker, lack of sophistication in female drinkers or be used as contrast against a seemingly brutish drinker. E.g. Vivienne from "The Young Ones."
The Showerings family sold the brand and their business around the late 80s/early 90s, but it seems that they hadn't given up making perry cider altogether, branding their perry cider as Brothers and selling it down the local festival.
Call it what you will, its bloody horrible.
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Sooo excited by this.
I'm on the stewarding staff for Arcadia and Shangri La this year.
Its gonna be the best gig I've ever pulled at G'Bury.
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Theatre/Cabaret +3
Other -2
Pyramid 17
Other 19
Jazz World 30
The Park 24
Acoustic 22
Avalon 22
Theatre/Cabaret 24
Circus 20
Dance Village 21
Glade 32
Trash City 31
Shangri La 20
Croissant Neuf 24
Queens Head 13
Pussy Parlure 17
Bandstand 23
Silent World 19
Cinema 19
RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIICE
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