“I’m off to the picnic!”, exclaimed Dirty Dave in Ron’s last night.
“The teddy bear’s picnic?”, said Jimmy.
“No, don’t be silly. The Electrical Picnic in some place in the top-middley bit of Ireland that nobody would go to otherwise because there’s no point, is there?”
“Trying to recreate your youth, are you? You haven’t been to a festival since the very first Feile and after what happened there with the girl from Deacon Blue and the coke bottle which got stuck in your-”
“We said we’d never speak of that again. Thank you. Anyway, I’m all set, so I am”.
“Got your festival survival kit?”
“Damn right. Wellies, check. Spare wellies, check. Aloe-vera bog-roll, check. Pre-cooked Pop Tarts, check. Four slabs of Carlsberg, kindly provided by Ron at a knock down price of €4 a can, check. Condom, check. Morning after pill for my hangover, check. iPod, check. Autograph book, check. Picture of Jim Carroll, check. Pre-mixed bloody marys in a thermos flask, check. Bag of oranges, check. Forty-seven Es, check. Bag of MDMA powder, check. Eight grams of coke, check. Great big lump of hash, check. Skins, check. Lighters, zippo and Bic, check. Box of matches, check. Pringle jumper a la Nick Faldo in the 1988 British Open, check. Bottle of Blue Stratos, check. Emergency suture kit in case that recently acquired gooch wound opens up again, check. Sleeping bag, check. Eye-mask to block out the light, check. Latest copies of Esquire, Men’s Health and Heat, check. Baby rabbit, check. Camera, check. Mobile phone, check. Werewolf mask, check. Eight man tent, check. Box-set of Grey’s Anatomy, check. Anusol, check. Money, check. Laser card, check. Tickets, check. Original vinyl copy of A Flock of Seagulls by A Flock of Seagulls, check. The sheet of skin Iggy Pop shed at the National Stadium in 1988, check.”
“Well, sounds like you’re all set for a good time”.
“Yeah, and when I return Florence and the Machine will be my wife”.
“Dave, no stalking”.
“But I ..”
“NO STALKING. You know what’ll happen”.
“Awww. Not even a little bit?”
“Look, you can stalk and do what you want with Billy Bragg, leave Florence alone”.
“Oh all right then. Can I have the keys then Twenty?”
“Here you go”, I said, “but make sure my Honda 50 comes back pristine”.
“I will!”, he said as he monged his way out the door.
If you’re going to the picnic, have fun. Just be careful. Seriously.
I’ll just throw another Briquette on the Fire while im feeling the envy..wait a minute thats not envy its warmth..
Mmmm, warmth. I just cannot abide the idea of spending a weekend in a campsite with 30,000 strangers. I think people who do are weird.
I had calmly & stoically accepted the fact that I’m not going this year right up until this morning. Now I miss that uneasiness you get in your belly when you know you are going to go fucking caning it for three days in a row.
Feck!
At least you won’t have the uneasiness in your bowels that you get after caning it for three days in a row.
“Look, you can stalk and do what you want with Billy Bragg, leave Florence alone”.
Hehe, he probably advertises for stalkers.
Y’know her full name is Florence Welch.
That’s not sexy at all.
Like Bernadette Flanagan. It just doesn’t … work.
Who’s Bernadette Flanagan? Is that yer wan from the Cranberries?
Baby rabbit? For what?
And its Dolores , the girl of the O’Riordans – two very sexy names .
I didn’t dare ask about the baby rabbit. He likes to stroke furry things though, in fairness
I is Dave a veteran of Carnsore?
No, but he went to the odd Siamsa Cois Laoi as far as I can remember.
Think i saw him at The lark in the Park in St. Annes one time
He was more of a ‘Beat in the Street’ man
Electric Eddie?
Electric Cunt morelike…
the fact that I dont know who Florence and the Machine are makes me sure Im too old for festivals.
Baby rabbit? For what?
Pregnancy test in case he gets lucky with Florence and the decade-old condom breaks.
Raquel Welch, morgor?
Poohing is such a problem at these sort of events.
Blue Stratos – those were the days. I’d have thought DD was a Brut man.
My big bro had Denim aftershave back in the day.
Nice.
Mmmmmm, Anusol.
Raquel Welch, morgor?
The name is still off-putting.
She sounds like she’d be a barmaid in coronation street.
Abiding memory of Siamsa is the all-pervading smell of shite for the entire weekend.
Great work on the portoloo front there. Why is it so difficult to provide decent shitting facilities for a mere 30,000 people?
And Dirty Dave.
I only do outdoor festivals south of a line from Bordeaux to Bucharest.
You are a sensible man. Anyone who deliberately allows themselves to get cold and wet is a mentalist.
Yeah, well..the lectic shitpick is wet and shit, whaddya expect after 3 days of rain and rain on friday morning? E8 for a burger? I could buy a bungalow for that! We setup there at 3 yesterday and it was all damp grass. 2 hours later is was all mud, then the sun went down and it was pretty fuckn cold mud. Electric Shitepick plus the promters shaftin’ the arse outta the crews d stall holders. Fuck em up the arse with a rusty crane and no lube. 404.
Yeah, well..the lectic shitpick is wet and shit, whaddya expect after 3 days of rain and rain on friday morning? E8 for a burger? I could buy a bungalow for that! We setup there at 3 yesterday and it was all damp grass. 2 hours later is was all mud, then the sun went down and it was pretty fuckn cold mud. Electric Shitepick plus the promters shaftin’ the arse outta the crews d stall holders. Fuck em up the arse with a rusty crane and no lube. 404.
You could just use your real name, ANN DOYLE….
I would take the wet and cold to see Brian Wilson and Fleet Foxes; I would also take a gun and shoot off David Gray’s big wobbly head.