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Five years ago, I headed down to Oxegen with a college friend of mine and three of his friends from where he lived. They were very posh friends. After getting over the initial shock when they realised I was from Finglas, they warmed up to me a bit and shared their packed paninis and mandarins during the bus ride, when they accepted I wasn't going to rob them blind. Iarflaigh (I swear to god that was his real name) showed me his lovely wellies and Ruairi talked to me at length about all about his favourite bands: Hard-Fi and The Kooks, as we made our way to where my friends were based.
Enter Bob. Bob is a good, old friend of mine. While he's very friendly, he's a bit scary looking. He has a head that looks like the FA cup and eyes that look act like they're trying to stare each other down. However as Ruairi and Iarflaigh met Bob for the first time, he was wearing no more than a thong with the words 'HELLO', written upside down upon his stomach in lipstick. They were aghast. Ruairi nearly threw up his strawberries and creme from earlier. I knew the feeling.
However, true to his word Bob had kept us a spot, had bought the tent I'd given him money the week before - and had even gone and erected the thing!
...After it blew away in the wind moments later, I had to find a new tent. The two posh lads had their own tent and the more normal lads (pictured) had their own ones too. It wasn't an option to ask Bob. Half his tent was taken over by glo-sticks and Jaffa cakes, and the other half was a muddy mess already.
I befriended two German guy nearby in a huge tent and they were happy to help me out. I put my head down for the night sometime after 1am.
I woke up at around 4am that night, feeling odd. A funny cloud surrounded me and the two Germans were laughing hysterically. I was quite hungry too. I got up with the lads and had a bit of drink with them to calm myself down. I honestly didn't realize what they were smoking and am quite against using drugs, myself. So, suffice to say I hadn't a clue what was going on, by this stage.
I must mention I can't drink, though. The drink does the most damage to me. This was perhaps the first time I was aware of that. The other times involve tattoos and hairy women in my bed, but this was perhaps the weirdest of them all. I was led around the campsite by two hungry Germans, who eventually left me in a blankets, outside at a large screen tele with dozens of doughnuts, stoned and drunk to watch the Lord of the Rings trilogy, on my own. My mind was blown, and my pants possibly soiled.
I awoke the next morning in some girls tent who had taken pity on me and her and her friends kept me in their tent. I said my thanks and left for mine. I returned to my own tent, with the intention of freshening up and heading off to see some music. I was greeted by a sight that did not sit well on my doughnutty stomach. Bob in his underpants, apparently dancing to a crowd.
It got worse. He and Ruari had bonded overnight it seemed and were now, well, engaged in a spot of underpant wrestling...
The crowd cheered them on as they slapped each others bare backs and then took pot shots at removing each others undergarments.
...I'll spare you the grottier details, but suffice to say Ruairi lost:
This was only Saturday morning... I still had two days to go.
Anyway, as you can see that was my last festival experience - I think I deserve a better one. Especially as I've never been to EP, having been forced to sell my tickets for the past three years in a row due to weddings and a funeral. This year - I have to go!0 -
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Favourite lyric:
"She asked for a glove, he gave her a shove, and baby McHaggis - 9 months to the day!"
The wonderful Dropkick Murphys - Spicy McHaggis Jig.
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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_ZN3weW1udE
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