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The most smashed you’ve ever been?? (At the festival.)


Northern Soul
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2 hours ago, Northern Soul said:

Ha ha ha, I’ve seen that clip before. It’s from somewhere up here. Preston or Blackburn or Chorley, Preston is sticking in my head somehow. Proper tablets he’s been on there chief. None of that floating back to you’re tent shite I was sold in the SE Corner, that fella would have been STOMPING back to his tent and LOVING it?

Yeah it's Preston. I had a flatmate from there and he always showed us it lol.

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I've only been to 2 so I haven't had a chance to get really bent out of shape yet. Anyway these days I'm just way better at getting fucked up than I used to be and I don't end up in a passed out vomit heap like I used to occasionally do when I was 20 / 21. Also since I have to fly over all I can get is whatever I'm lucky enough to source by chance at the fest.

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5 hours ago, Skoo said:

I kept trying to pick up lumps of mud because I'd think I'd seen something. Then I'd pick it up and realise it was just mud.

fucking hell, I thought I was the only one… I am mad for doing this on floor in a field:D

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6 hours ago, Northern Soul said:

brain starts to function like I’ve never known my brain function before...... Erm, night dad, and so, off to bed for a very unpleasant first drug experience and of my life. Acid? First drug? Foolish child???.

You should of tried taking shrooms, at school, at lunchtime with two chums. That lunchtime was followed by an English lesson. That English lesson had three very giggly kids in it. The teacher went round the class one by one asking kids to read a paragraph each aloud. The three giggly kids had shut the fuck up when the realisation of the impending reading aloud took hold. Chum number 1 is asked, he cannot focus on the wobbly words sliding around the page he holds aloft. "can't read sir" is all he says. Gets a bit of a grilling from teacher but sticks to his argument of being illiterate. Chum 2 got asked shortly later, the page looking not too dissimilar in his fragmented mind. I was, at this point, literally shitting bricks. I mean talk about your first time and experiencing the complete highs and lows within a two hour period, shit the fucking bed. Anyhow chum 2 had a masterplan (escape plan).  Upon the request to read being placed firmly in his direction simply said "Fuck this I'm outta here" and promptly ran out the door, followed by the teacher. Now I was alone in a class without a teacher, without a teacher asking me to read aloud, I fuckin loved chum 2, still do. ?

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Back on original topic my memory of complete white outs at Glastonbury is vague, as is the case when getting 'sideways'.

I do have a recollection of a very strange conversation with an equally spangled randomer, went something like this.

Me "Alwight mate, you okay? he was knelt looking at his hands "You lost summit ?"

Random "Only my dignity, well bits of it are scattered all around the festival"

Me "Shit, You lost all your dignity in one night !

Random "Noooooo, the night before I got wasted and thought it best to leave bits of dignity at strategic points around the festival, then when I wander there is a fair chance of regaining my dignity in instalments"

Me "How's that working out?"

Random "Can't find shit all"

Loved that bloke, wish I'd got his name. If you are on here and have the faintest recollection please reveal yourself. 

 

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17 hours ago, Stokesy10 said:

I do like a good float around the farm though. Glad you found your bag.

THAT has just reminded me...

Weds 2017, up the hill, just dropped a pill, I had 90% of my stash in a little bundle, covered in grey gaffa tape. Woke up in my tent sometime on Thurs morning, realised I'd lost the stash. Turned the tent and my clothes upside down, searched camp, asked mates, nothing. Pretty effing gutted at this point. Later that afternoon I was somewhere over the Park, my mate and his Mrs sent me a WhatsApp pic of my stash... I said "great, did you have it on you all along?", he said "No, my Mrs and I were just walking up the hill, and she trod on it and picked it up". This was MUCH further away from where I'd been the previous night too. All stash saved. Madness.

How?

The only explination is Glasto Magic. Its real. 

 

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just remembered this one

 

 

watching the Dove splay the John Peel , the last time they played.  right in the middle with my mate. met some scouse lads, we were having a ball, they offered us a tablet each saying they were herbal. so we necked that. not sure what it was , but boy did it take my head off. have vague memories of being sat on a bench at some point.

 

next thing I remember is walking back in to camp at 7 am with people asking us where we had been. I had no idea at all. a few hours later when i ventured out again. a mate of ours said he had seen us staggering around arm in arm. He said he ignored us as we looked like stroke victims.

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Oosh. OK at Glastonbury it would have been booze-based in 2016. Normally stay relatively sensible on beers during the day, then head back to the tent and mix up a bottle of rum & ginger (or two) to see me through the evening. I'd got the train down that year and had availed myself of a couple of bottles of whatever local hooch it is that gets sold at Castle Cary station on the Thursday.

Friday started off well as I didn't have any water in my tent, so used said cider to brush my teeth and it got no better from there.   Got progressively battered during the day, and started on the rum waaaaay to early.  I only remembered that I'd seen Bastille about a week later when I heard them on the radio. By the time it got to Disclosure I could barely stand, and coupled with the most boring set I've ever seen I ended up passing out standing up. There was no sagging at the knees or bending at the waist; this was a ramrod-straight 90 degree  journey from vertical toward horizontal. The only reason I didn't faceplant is that my mates spotted me going and two of them caught me on the way down.

I decide the problem was that I was bored, not that I was battered, so I told them I Was heading back to the tent on Big Ground to top up my rum. Obviously. Got up there, sat in a chair to begin topping up and thought what would really help was a smoke. Rolled up, had that, and promptly passed out midway through Muse at full volume.  Woke up at about 2am still slumped in the chair, managed to crawl halfway into my tent and passed out again.

Non-Glasto festivals was Benicassim last year.  Glorious combination of my first proper dance with Mandy, Kolsch at 4am and the refraction glasses that I was introduced to by Benny during the 2017 Sunday night Justice set.  They'd been dishing out those foam sticks that are lit up with internal LED lights, so I'd spent ages collecting a load and pulling out the LEDs.  By the time the mandy kicked in properly I was holding multiple LEDs in both hands with the lights poking out between my fingers,  and was dancing around staring at my hands and telling people I was shooting rainbows from my fingers :lol:

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Shit my pants once. As in, literally shit them. Woke up to shit in them. There was human shit in my pants and it was mine.

First night of my first Glastonbury.

Took the advice to climb the Glastonbury sign hill when the tent was set up and crack open a cider whilst taking it all in. I just extended the cider bit so it lasted throughout the day and into the night. I vaguely remember going to bed thinking ‘I could do with a shit’, then ‘save that until the morning, I think’. Then waking up on Thursday morning to the realisation that my body was not as patient. 

It took a little while to clean up. It was mainly in my boxers but I’d somehow managed to smear a bit on the sleeping bag and mat as well. I got through far too many wet wipes and chucked everything in a bag, including the underwear, which was beyond rescue. I remember undoing the front door to the tent and looking sheepishly around to see if my neighbours were there, gauge if they heard anything the night before, and deduce whether or not they could smell what must have been wafting from my new temporary home. Luckily they weren’t around. 

I quickly dumped the bag and took a little walk to have a word with myself, before coming back to the tent and cracking open a Scrumpy. 

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19 minutes ago, kalifire said:

Shit my pants once. As in, literally shit them. Woke up to shit in them. There was human shit in my pants and it was mine.

First night of my first Glastonbury.

Took the advice to climb the Glastonbury sign hill when the tent was set up and crack open a cider whilst taking it all in. I just extended the cider bit so it lasted throughout the day and into the night. I vaguely remember going to bed thinking ‘I could do with a shit’, then ‘save that until the morning, I think’. Then waking up on Thursday morning to the realisation that my body was not as patient. 

It took a little while to clean up. It was mainly in my boxers but I’d somehow managed to smear a bit on the sleeping bag and mat as well. I got through far too many wet wipes and chucked everything in a bag, including the underwear, which was beyond rescue. I remember undoing the front door to the tent and looking sheepishly around to see if my neighbours were there, gauge if they heard anything the night before, and deduce whether or not they could smell what must have been wafting from my new temporary home. Luckily they weren’t around. 

I quickly dumped the bag and took a little walk to have a word with myself, before coming back to the tent and cracking open a Scrumpy. 

Christ almighty :lol:

Was it a wet wipe wash or a shower? 

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23 minutes ago, kalifire said:

Shit my pants once. As in, literally shit them. Woke up to shit in them. There was human shit in my pants and it was mine.

First night of my first Glastonbury.

Took the advice to climb the Glastonbury sign hill when the tent was set up and crack open a cider whilst taking it all in. I just extended the cider bit so it lasted throughout the day and into the night. I vaguely remember going to bed thinking ‘I could do with a shit’, then ‘save that until the morning, I think’. Then waking up on Thursday morning to the realisation that my body was not as patient. 

It took a little while to clean up. It was mainly in my boxers but I’d somehow managed to smear a bit on the sleeping bag and mat as well. I got through far too many wet wipes and chucked everything in a bag, including the underwear, which was beyond rescue. I remember undoing the front door to the tent and looking sheepishly around to see if my neighbours were there, gauge if they heard anything the night before, and deduce whether or not they could smell what must have been wafting from my new temporary home. Luckily they weren’t around. 

I quickly dumped the bag and took a little walk to have a word with myself, before coming back to the tent and cracking open a Scrumpy. 

At least it wasn't someone else's shit dude.

Person 1 from my earlier story went for a portaloo shit in 2011, he was wearing a long vest, one of those shit Ibiza style ones. He said he thought it was weird how he didn't hear his shit land, stood up and the shit had collected in the bit of his vest hanging down, like a hammock, and smeared all up his back.

Needless to say he was twatted. He was asking people for hours "how have I shit upwards?".

I'll write a book on this lad one day. It's absolutely insane the amount of stuff that happens to him.

He fell down a verge of a motorway grass bank last year, he had to pull over cos he had explosive shits. It was during that mega storm we had with the record breaking winds. He managed to do the shit and it shot out with the wind in the perfect direction, he climbed up the bank, slipped and fell down for ages and went straight through seperate dog shit.

He was on the way to a new job.

This is tip of the iceberg.

Edited by Stokesy10
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I have a shit-related story although not quite as messy..

It was a Friday morning I believe, after going hard on the Thursday festivities, I awoke at around 5:30am still a bit smashed and really needing to take a dump.

Without thinking, I leapt out of my tent and stumbled towards the nearest portaloo. (And yes, portaloo as apposed to long drop. It was in either Kidney Mead or Cockmill Meadow if I remember right ??). Everything was going fine & I finished up my business before I came to the unfortunate realisation that I was too drunk to remember to bring toilet paper, and the walk had sobered me up too much to not care about that.

I remembered that since I had fallen asleep & woken up in the same clothes, my phone was in my pocket so I went to contact someone for bog roll. Alas, no battery. As it was early morning I could already hear a small queue building outside and so in a panic I scanned through the inside of the portaloo for anything to help the situation. And then there it was. 

A discarded Walkers crisp packet. Salt & Vinegar. You can only imagine how that went down.

 

Moral of the story: REMEMBER TO BRING TOILET PAPER!

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Whilst this thread is most amusing I do feel it's time to remind everybody of Zammo's fine, noble and well spoken words on Grange Hill,

"JUST SAY NO"

Apologies to those lucky enough to be too young too have heard of these valiant efforts to keep my generation safe. The message is still releveant,

"JUST SAY NO"

I said "NO" to Zammo's bad acting and chose to go and get stoned instead of watching TV. 

 

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1 hour ago, semmtexx said:

Ok, who's going to own up to being this person??? It's not me btw! This picture sends fear right through me!

(sorry for posting the pic btw!)

image.png.eea7e26b44dbcef7fe057d990f322a63.png

There's very few people on this planet I'd recognise from that angle,

Pleased to report I Do Not Recognise this person, I do however feel their pain.

It has proven very helpful in enabling me to put an image to some of the stories I've recently read.

Many thanks, :stinker: 

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On 11/14/2018 at 10:28 AM, Tranquility of Solitude said:

No drugs tales from me, and I don’t usually have much to drink there... lightweight I know.... but worst I’ve ever felt was after 1 cider in 2017. Had travelled overnight coach from Edinburgh, and I can never sleep on a coach. Got through Gate A by 8:15, by which time it was already 30+ degrees. Had no water and nothing to eat at this point. Pitched my tent....Now if it was 30+ degrees... and getting hotter outside my tent, fiddling about with the bedroom bit inside felt like a slow roasting chicken. All done before 9am, decided my first cider at the bus would start me off nicely. One pint of dry cider later ( I think it’s around 9%) I couldn’t walk. Tried to wander to Williams Green and had to sit down at least three times. Took me all of Wednesday to recover.

Lesson learned... drink plenty fluid!

 

Built my tent and started work on a mates last year in the heat, collapsed over the half constructed effort. no food, no sleep, no water... Completely sober, total faint. 

Came round as a couple of passers by were helping me up, they'd seen me topple... 

Tame by some standards by I was still ruined and very shaky. Sat in the shade drinking full fat Coke to get my blood sugar levels back up and waited til sundown to continue building his tent. 

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