what the fuck went on in that soggy field in mid wales last weekend???
Fucked if i know!!! My memory is shot..
ill try and piece it together here:
P&O phoned me and declared in the most miserable voice i have ever heard, ‘i got no projector maan, and my computer aint working’ – he sounded like he d been snorting valium for a fortnight and just found out his cat had died…
the reason his equipment werent working was because his new bird had had a fucking epilieptic fit the previous week, and smashed the lot up before blackening both of P&Os eyes…..SCARY….. and he says, shes lovely(!)
‘FUCK IT mate, have a weekend off, sort your fucking act out and we’ll see you at Nozstock’, i said, just to escape the misery….
i hopped in the Sickmobile and was greeted by the bard of bodmin, one-toothed hairy and crazed eccentric Daffydd… Dr Conkers guest for the weekend….
he funded Epidemic and was joining in the fun and coming to see us live for the first time…
Daffyd yawned every 23 seconds of the 2 hour journey and in the end i had his wide-open hippo-like mouth , one tooth and glistening tonsils burned to memory for life…..
we arrived at the festy and were guided 14 different routes by 8 differnt Stewards and finally pitched the tent with the rest of the Sicknote posse….
we got our shit togeher, picked up our rider and hit the stage…..
we smashed fuck out of the lovely Funktion 1 soundsystem they had and the tent rammed out and was bouncing like Fuckery before we knew it….
Sicknote live at Sheep Festival
off stage we sold more merchandise than we ever have and spirits were high.
We all ate some dodgy round things and felt weird , drank as much booze as we could get our hands on to dampen the effects of the Doctors dodgy prescription and hit the sack about 6am….
Next day and camp was bussling as i lay in the tent trying to swallow the cracked brain i had inherited from the night before.
Doghouse was on best behaviour, Faerie Muff and her son were present…. and it was strangely calming to have Doghouse so chilled out… a break from the norm, where you’ll usually find his crusty black wine lip squawking ‘GAYBALL’ in your face, after he has gone 78 hours without sleep and devoured 14 bottles of Plonk.
-he was very pleasant today!
unlike his new adpopted son, who decided he was bored and thought it was cool to throw a frisby at us lot, repeatedly for an hour and a half… knocking Flakeys hat off and smashing various people in the face. If he was my kid i’d fucking ri… anyway….. and relax.
Me and Filth took a stroll into the nearby town, we got some supplies in , which was hindered by the fact i got ID’d. For the 2nd time in a week. i mean. FFS. anyway… i took it as a compliment some one thinking im half of my age….
we headed back to camp.
Filthy then decided it was time for his 9th meal of the day and busted out his camping stove.
i was relaxing in one of those floppy camping chairs, with a stella slotted in the holder and i was all wrapped up in my orange blanket… chilled i was…. but not for long…
an atomic mushroom bellowed out of Filtys stove which he was holding approximaltely 7 cm away from my fucking face… the stove went out, and then suddenly ……..BaMMMMMM!!!!!!!!! again a huge flame flying out of the end about 5 feet long, as he waved it about looking fucking panicked and completely fucking retarded and pale… i dodged the huge flame as it grabbed for my fringe…
then i dived off my seat and rolled to safety , narrowly escaping a completely melted scalp….
filthy threw it to the floor….
‘If theres a flame burning it wont blow up’, squeaked a knowing voice from a nearby camp…………. just as the flame went out.
all calmed down eventually and Filthy tucked into his Super noodles(!)
Filthy enjoying the noodles that nearly cost me my scalp, with Dickie sat by his side
Later that evening we headed into the festy , leaving Dr Conker face down in the tent after he drank half a litre of GHB and decided to stay in for the night and rape himself.
We handed out loadsa free Sickntoe kiddies t-shirts and there were lots of smiley faces….
we walked round the festy for a few hours then went to see Dub FX, who never turned up (fucksake – like the ONLY thing i wanted to see).
We walked around more….but there was literally NO music i liked ….NoTHING… just reggae, roots, blues, jazz, ska,…. i mean fuck me… its 2009 for fucksake…… disheartened we headed up to the food tent….
‘Whos ordered Flan?’ screamed the lady behind the couter. A nearby wrinkly big-nosed posh lady quickly replied, ‘I’m a trout’.
A few hours later me and the Filth found ourselves in the all night Cafe with Clint from Peppermint Iguana who has an amazing calm prescence about him…. which helped me relax and smoke for the 1st time in many years and yes…. NO PARANIOA!!!! whoa! am i cured????? or was it Clint’s amazing calming and warm , safe aura?????? who knows?
i got chatting to some middle class girl who was waffling away and i found myself thinking weird and wonderful things in my stoned haze and not really listening to a word she said, i guessed her age as 19 and she was completely offended , and then she guest my age as 40 and i was completely offended…. she left.
but, i mean i was IDed today…. so i look under 18 to some people and 40 to others… WTF.
A lovely lady came over then, with the biggest smile i have ever seen, it literally took up two-thirds of her face… it was amazing… she had a podgy pudding-headed boyfriend in a cowboy hat, hangin off her who was so insecure he constantly tried to kiss her to declare to everyone that she was his, and then he started playing air guitar with a pool cue in an attempt to look alpha…. LOL.
She chatted to me and i found my smile growing wider, trying to match hers… but there was no use…
‘You probably get it all the time, but you look so much like hugh grant’ she sed to me….
‘HUGH FUCKING GRANT!’ i retorted… ‘DO I FUCK!! And NO i have never heard that before!!!???? ‘
The tunes in the tent were bubbling nicely… the DJ sat in the corner engrossed in his job was sharing some classics with us….. best tunes i’d heard all weekend….
really enoying, until a Dreadlock waltzed over and turned it down so low it hurt to try and hear it.
He then marched behind the lentil counter in his apron and with his smug head started bossing the staff around…
i walked up to the counter and sed, ‘excuse me mate can we turn the music up?’
‘NO !!!’, he ballooned in my face, turned around and then completely blanked me and carried on stirring his pot of gluten free lentil soup..
i called him over again, i put my nose very close to his and sed ‘that is no way to treat a customer’… he babbled summink about me going sumewhere else and that was laa laa alaa. Tosser. He grunted his authority at me as i walked off. I was a little shakey as he was twice my size…. but at the same time ready to lamp the tit.
And then…… his Dad came into the tent……….with his big grey quiff and supplies for the cafe and started rubbing the dreadlock.
I went over to the Dj and sed ‘You’re playing the best tunes iver heard all weekend, but your boss is a helmet’…
‘tell me about it’, he replied. i gave him a copy of the sickntoe album.
‘haaaaa’, he said, ‘i saw you lot at Waveform… i loved it… but i could’nt stay and watch you coz i kept seeing your dancer’s willy, and it was making me sick.’
i sat back down next to Clint and his aura.
we drank and puffed til sunrise