Sadly/luckily none of the stories are about myself
as most of my drug experiences only include weed and and a bit of coke here and there. For which most nights ended with either; "man I'm stoned, I'm going to bed" or "man I'm high, I wish I could go to bed"

However, I know a few friends that like to try things out on my behalf.

One of my fondest drug related story was a chap that came down with a friend of mine to our yearly visit to Santa Pod. This was basically an excuse for a weekend away from the daily chores and moans of home.

Anyway, most of us met up at our pre-approved petrol station and stocked up on twiglets, pringles, a warehouse supply of B&H and a 4 pack of Red Bull (beer had already been purchased). We was now prepared and ready for departure. Our next meeting point was outside the main gates, where we met up with our last mate and his 'tag-along' friend.

We picked a decent sized plot for all our tents. I proudly errected my castle in a record time of 2 hours, 3 beers and one tentpeg punctured finger. It was when I stood back to admire my handywork that I noticed this one, small, yorshire terrier sized tent. "we expecting a midget" I laughed whilst pointing. Turned out both lads were meant to be sharing, but I think my mate had known what his other room mate was like

We sat down for a quick beer and said our hello's to everyone. This is where We were briefly introduced to 'Scouser Steve' who pulled a bottle of rum from nowhere and seemed to have, in his mind, formed a mini racetrack around our tents and proceeded to 'race'. He must of been winning because he looked pretty happy with himself.

I'm not sure exactly what he was on and would be amazed if even he did. We lost him 30 minutes later after he needed to "have a word with the plants" and wondered off. He turned up a day later still clutching his now empty rum bottle. Apparently he had been in a cornfield all night fighting Michael Jackson and dancing with the badgers. He was a legend in his own right.


Oh and Then there was 'peanut man'. We had a small fire going and he just fluttered up like a moth attracted to the light. We was all too stoned and drunk to care who he was and he just sat there eating his peanuts. Although he had decided he could only do so with a strict one-for-me-one-for-you policy, which meant one (and only one) of us had to accept a peanut everytime he ate he one. We liked him.
(Fluffy Face is blaming your picture for breaking my commode, Sat 18 Sep 2010, 0:18, Reply)