Reading 2006: Episode V
People were burning their tents. It was quite frightening seeing how quick they go up.
But it was nothing that these guys couldn't sort out. I mean the fire people, not those dirty stinking festival goers. That may or may not be Bill Oddie.
The girls next door finally discovered that they had been sleeping in a porn covered tent. They didn't like it.
Look at these people getting ready like suckers. What's the rush? If we miss the coach, we miss the coach. There's enough food lying around to last until next year.
Libby had the right idea, sit down and let everyone else do it.
I did the same. I still had an unquestionable desire to dance like it was 2197, so I listend to Hail to the Thief by Radiohead and vibrated non-sexually.
Hell of a moldy tent on them.
This was the last time my union jack chair was seen alive.
I decided to leave my coffin tent behind. It would take literally minutes to take it down.
Unless some people wrestled on it.
A man who had been wearing a dress the night before, came over selling a free hat. I didn't want to be the idiot who turned down a free hat, plus I needed one for when I graduate and become an Egyptologist.
The land of tents became...
...the land of rubbish, the 43rd sequel to the Land Before Time.
Off we set, a lot less wiser, but a lot more poor. Everyone seemed very tired. Who would be my dancing partner on what was destined to be the quietest journey since whenever?
The local cider and superstars man came around. None today, thank you, sir.
Where in Jesus was our coach?
There it was. Was there any doubt? Some, but those doubters were dealt with accordingly. Death.
After bobbing up and down on my seat for an hour or so, and riding up and down on the escalator a few times, I found myself in KFC. Kwality Fucking Chicken.
These guys weren't up for it one bit. A Shame. A massive crying shame.
I didn't have a bucket. I don't feel right asking for one. It seems quite aggressive and dirty. "Give me a bucket, you fucking cunt." See?
Quite cleverly KFC put their napkins inside some plastic. That way when you have greasy fingers and need to wipe yout hands, you can't open the packet.
To some it was the end, but to others it had only just begun...
But it was nothing that these guys couldn't sort out. I mean the fire people, not those dirty stinking festival goers. That may or may not be Bill Oddie.
The girls next door finally discovered that they had been sleeping in a porn covered tent. They didn't like it.
Look at these people getting ready like suckers. What's the rush? If we miss the coach, we miss the coach. There's enough food lying around to last until next year.
Libby had the right idea, sit down and let everyone else do it.
I did the same. I still had an unquestionable desire to dance like it was 2197, so I listend to Hail to the Thief by Radiohead and vibrated non-sexually.
Hell of a moldy tent on them.
This was the last time my union jack chair was seen alive.
I decided to leave my coffin tent behind. It would take literally minutes to take it down.
Unless some people wrestled on it.
A man who had been wearing a dress the night before, came over selling a free hat. I didn't want to be the idiot who turned down a free hat, plus I needed one for when I graduate and become an Egyptologist.
The land of tents became...
...the land of rubbish, the 43rd sequel to the Land Before Time.
Off we set, a lot less wiser, but a lot more poor. Everyone seemed very tired. Who would be my dancing partner on what was destined to be the quietest journey since whenever?
The local cider and superstars man came around. None today, thank you, sir.
Where in Jesus was our coach?
There it was. Was there any doubt? Some, but those doubters were dealt with accordingly. Death.
After bobbing up and down on my seat for an hour or so, and riding up and down on the escalator a few times, I found myself in KFC. Kwality Fucking Chicken.
These guys weren't up for it one bit. A Shame. A massive crying shame.
I didn't have a bucket. I don't feel right asking for one. It seems quite aggressive and dirty. "Give me a bucket, you fucking cunt." See?
Quite cleverly KFC put their napkins inside some plastic. That way when you have greasy fingers and need to wipe yout hands, you can't open the packet.
To some it was the end, but to others it had only just begun...
posted by batteriesfeelincluded | 7:45 pm
1 Comments:
Woo Radiohead! Sexy hat.
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