The lands to the west of England have long been completely drenched in mindless storytelling and intrigue because people drink too much and haven't got anything better to do than gossip and exaggerate. In an occasional series of reports we slice open the fatted underbelly of myth and throw the intestines of legend at the wall of truth (good lord!)
I proudly (not very) present the legend of.......
Glastonbury
A place of magical energy and one of the most powerful series of connecting ley lines on earth or a big old phony-baloney festival where estate agents in their mid-thirties go to get ripped off by travellers, teenage drug dealers, food vendors, bar prices, merchandising stands, crusty jugglers, stalls selling stupid hats, fortune tellers and opportunist thieves just so they can feel like they're still young?
The only mystery that Glastonbury has is why anyone would pay £160 to stand in a muddy field with 120,000 assholes watching The Stereophonics.
BOOYAKASHAA! Take that, suckers!
Proof indeed that Mother Nature hates The Stereophonics just as much as I do. High Five Mother Nature!
It’s said that Jesus Christ himself walked the green hills of Glastonbury in the form of Joseph of Arimathea, his post-crucifixion alter-ego. It is also believed that he thought Paul Weller’s afternoon set was shit and that £13 was a bit too much to pay for a henna tattoo.
Zing! You can keep that one.
2 comments:
Holy shit! Did that guy in it up to his neck get out okay?
But yeah, Glastonbury. Good point, well made. It's a shame, isn't it?
Smith3000 - ello ello. He's alright, looking for his puff I think. I'm only kidding really. But I'd still not want to go there, I just prefer the more intmate vibe festival. Like Festinho!!! Horses for courses innit?
Anyway, good to have you here.
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