At Leeds festival a couple of years ago
we were standing towards the back of the crowd, watching The Strokes. I say 'watching'; I couldn't really see as I'd been viciously tricked into ingesting heroic quantities of mushrooms and pills and was spending most of the gig screaming incoherently at the top of my lungs whilst failing miserably in repeated bids to line up a can of cider with my dribbling cake-hole. I overheard a woman behind me berating her fella for not having brought any booze from the tent, so I turned round to offer her a delicious swig of apple heaven. She looked at me really oddly, and said "piss off, will you? I hate that fucking stuff!" She sounded really offended, so I turned round again to try and make piece with her. My welly stuck in the mud, I lost my balance and went crashing down on top of her.

Lying there 'missionary' in the slurry, I realised I had one filthy hand gripping her nork, with cider leaking all over both of us. The only thing I could think of to say to her that might appease the boyfriend towering over us was the first thing that popped into my head: "I'm not trying to pull you!" I shrieked, slurring terribly. "Christ, you look just like my sister!"

I'll never forget the reply, and I'll never do drugs again because of it. "It is me, you spazzy cunt. We're staying in the same tent, remember..?"
( grey kid is breakdancing to save a community centre, Thu 15 Dec 2005, 17:21, Reply)