“We come to another gate, endure more negociations, and then we’re on the site proper, driving past rows of tents. Scumbags and jizz-buckets sit around their tents drinking Stella and Woodpecker and Christ knows what.
I do not understand the festival experience. These people we’re driving through, they fought to get in there. They think they’re lucky. They spent hours on the phone/net trying to get tickets, happily having paid hundreds of pounds for a pair - when they managed to find some. Now they’re celebrating being here, celebrating the fact that they can lie around in urine-flavoured mud drinking warm lager and eating burgers while fucking Cast knock out their greatest huts in the distance.”
John Niven, “Kill your friends”.
Hellfest
Il y a 15 ans
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