Music festivals


It is that time of year once again, that big glowing orb in the sky makes an appearance for a few days, alcohol is consumed and Asda do a roaring trade in BBQ food, disposable BBQ’s and over priced salad.

Glastonbury, T In The Park, Latitude, Reading Festival, all fucking crap over-priced corporate shifests.
Pay £200 to pitch a tent in a field, listen to the most synthesized crap pop music, get charged £6 for a burger & £8 for a pint of Fosters, oh and of course if the Sun is shining pay another £15 for a hat from the scummy stall sellers and if you are in to New Age shite you are in luck, grab a Dreamcathcer for a mere £30.

Packed with scum, students, hippies, goths, hipsters and middle class middle aged arseholes.
I can think of no better a punishment to inflict on someone, not my idea of fun and a good way to spend £500+ on a weekend!

And of course, there is the fact some cunt will try to steal your tent or clothes and the usual violence

I’d rather go watch Peter Andre in concert, now there is a CUNT to rival Bono…

Nominated by: John Boy Bolton

18 thoughts on “Music festivals

  1. After an exceptionally wet bank holiday I was on Leeds station to see the tide of human excrement making their way home from the Roundhay Park festival of mewsick, or some such. The cunts were nothing more than moving columns of mud with packs of mud upon their backs. Brilliant. I started with a stifled titter and soon advanced to full on laughing and pointing; joined, I’m pleased to say, by several other Cunts of the Schadenfreude School of Sympathy. They want sympathy it’s in the dictionary between shit and syphilis. So what ever they paid was well spent for the merriment it gave to us Cunts on Leeds station that day, didn’t see any dream catchers, now mud catchers. All this unbridled joy for the bargain price of a 10p platform ticket, or as we knew it in Huddersfield: a Newcastle day return. British Railways: useless Cunts.

  2. Discomfort is something I go out of my way to avoid, and the nearest thing to a music festival that I’ve attended is Acid Daze at the Queen’s Hall in Leeds in ’87.
    Although the dump of a hotel that I stayed the night in ought to qualify as a legitimate festival experience.

    • I’m not a festival man either, Allan… I did go to Spike Island in 1990 though… The Roses played a good set, but whoever did the sound system should have been shot… Crap support too… I threw a bottle of piss as Gary Clail, the fucking smug cunt…

  3. Have staged a festival or two on me land over the years. Have a particularly boggy field doin orn the edge orf a river and let the hippy cunts have that. Happy as pigs in shite. Put it aboit that the khazis are at a convergence orf lay lines. Very popular. I say staged, actually rent it oit to an events company and let them collect the shite. Always amazed at how much shite a hippy produces – must be all those tofu burgers and organic mung bean curries. Thinking aboit it Soul Food produces more shite but that is another story.

    Point is I take a percentage on top orf the rental for every Cunt Catcher, Angel Shower (no not a piss perversion, a punter sits in a tent surrounded by candles while some cunt bangs huge Tibetan symbols aroind their head) and Tantric Vibrator flogged. Nice money thank you. Only fly in the ointment is I am left with a sea orf mud at the end. Considered growing a spot orf organic rice in it but lorst me Soil Association Organic Accreditation Certificate on account orf there being too many suspect substances in me tilth. Another income stream for the rural communities lorst. Fucking hippy cunts.

  4. Just listened to Question Time featuring Tom Conti….what an utterly clueless cunt he is. He is now a Conservative. This is why the cunting BBC invite him. Because he is an utterly clueless Conservative cunt.
    Tom Cunti…that is what he should have been called.

  5. funniest thing about festivals is that unless you get up at 4am to nab a spot near the front you end up watching it on a SCREEN ffs !

  6. While the naive stupidity of the kind of fucktards who part with good cash to wallow in a swamp of human and bovine urine for the best part of a week is mirth inducing, living in a festival town seriously fucking isn’t.

    I lived in Roskilde in my younger years and for one week every summer the population would swell from around 30,000 to around 150,000. Four fifths of which were complete cunts / bellends / twats / arseholes / students / pricks / wankers / alternative try-too-hard wannabes.

    The first thing you notice is the endless stream of meandering shit wandering out of the station, wearing humerously large ‘alternative’ hats. None of these cunts have the first fucking clue where they’re going and just get in everyone’s way.

    Second thing you notice is that when you pop down the road to get dinner from the local supermarket, there is nothing on the shelves and I mean NOTHING. No milk, bread, beer, eggs, cheese, ham, sausages, bacon, butter, wine, fizzy pop, cornflakes, bog roll, crisps, meat…fucking nothing….. Not even a tin of soup.
    Its like a swarm of ravenous locusts decended on the place while you were at work and cleaned it out…and its going to be like that for at least a week.

    Third thing you notice is that all your favourite bars and restaurants are now chock full of twats and bellends. The biggest of which are the multiple festival armband variety.
    These cunts seem to think they are some kind of fucking royalty and have the right to hog your favourite spot from mid day until sun down, nursing a single solitary pint and regaling anyone who will listen with tales of festivals past……wankers!

    That was year one.

    Year two, I got wise and had netted half a key of domestic from a local grower a month in advance for a knock down rate. Used a few local friends as go betweens and cleaned up three months wages in the space of five days, allowing for a few freebies, piss takes and stoned forgetful mistakes.

    Who knew that a bit of home grown cut with oregano would sell so well to pissed up morons with too much of mummy and daddy’s cash.

    Bwa ha ha ha ha! >:)

  7. I was at the Isle of Wight Festival (1970). My Dad told me I’d was a bloody fool and I’d never get off the island under a week although I don’t recall it being a problem!

    Hendrix was the headliner. Also playing were the Doors, 10 Years After (bass player Leo Lyons was a mate), Joni Mitchell (she were shite), Joan Baez (outstanding), Jethro Tull, Leonard Cohen (depressed me so much I fell asleep), the Who (brilliant in their prime), Taste ( saw Rory Gallagher about 15 years back. He was great then but had completely lost it! ) and lots of others since deceased in general.

    I also remember Arthur Brown being hoisted in on a crane with his headress on fire but according to wiki he wasn’t there so it must have been another occasion?

    Also there were Emerson Lake & Palmer. Loved them at the time but downloaded a couple of their albums recently and hated them both. Guess I must be getting old…

      • Why are so many people crazy about leonard cohen explain to me? Death of a ladies man was alright but its something I hardly listen too, he is a decent song writer but a shite vocalist in my opinion. Ah Jools Holland that stupid hunchback of shitty muzak. Has anybody even heard of his shite band squeeze? he was a crappy minor member doing keyboards

      • Not a Cohen fan myself, but he’s not a bad writer…. ‘Suzanne’ is a fine song (much better than the vastly overhyped ‘Hallelujah’)… But I prefer the Joan Baez version to Cohen’s…

  8. They even list the Isle of Man TT as a festival these days, if it wasn’t for that film that came out in 2011 most of these “here for the atmosphere” cunts wouldn’t be able to point the place out on the map.

    “I want Guy Martin to win, he’s great!” No he bloody isn’t! When I went there for the first time Carl Fogarty was doing it and he was a multiple world champion, Guy hasn’t even won a British championship level race! “Who’s Carl Fogarty?”

    I despair

  9. Guy Martin, what a monumental cunt.
    Fogarty is a cunt too, and Barry Sheen, in fact all limp-dicked cunts on motorbikes are wankers!
    One of the neighbours up our avenue has some swanky 1000cc thing, the cunt is a pain in the arse. every morning he starts it up just after 7am and then proceeds to rev it in the red a dozen times before roaring up the avenue doing about 120mph before he even gets to the junction.
    One of these days I am gonna cut the cunts brake lines!

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