Glastonbury Review... Pt 2

I know, I know, it is a week late and I said that it was going to be done sooner rather than later, but anyway there is no one reading it apart from myself...

Anyway, because of the delay, I thought I would keep it very simple:

The good:
The good covers so much that will have to keep it limited to the normal areas. The mood was brilliant and most people were very friendly.
Something that wasn't good but it was rather life saving was the flushing toilet block. Man, those things rock and they clean them constantly so there was no real problem there.

Bands that really did it are as follows (in my own opinion) - CSS they were the most fun you could ever have and Love Foxx is as hot as she lacks dancing skills and rhythm. But bloody hell she can work the crowd and make you laugh.
Chemical brothers were amazing, not a very long set and I have to admit that I found dancing a bit difficult with thick mud up to my ankles and having had to walk in it for three days left my legs a bit tired. Talk about visuals!!! Fucking amazing is the simplest and fairest way to describe them.
Sir Shirley Basset (Dame Shirley Bassey) you must have seen her on TV, she rocked and she said 'ass' and laughed straight after it.
The Coral, Biffy Clyro, The Cribs, The View, El Presidente, The Marley Brothers, Arctic Monkeys, The Hours, pear cider, food... You get the point, it kicked arse!!!

The Bad:
The nob jockey sound engineer who prevented us all from hearing Dizzee play live with the Arctic Monkeys.
The people that laughed at my hat.

That fucking baked potato I had on Sunday. Probably the same sound engineer who managed to fuck up the guitar for half a song for Biffy Clyro and had the lead singer looking like a twat hammering at it for no real reason what so ever.

Win Butler 's (Arcade Fire) mouth that wouldn't stop talking shite in between tracks for what it felt like ever and then complaining that he'd just been to a fucking wedding in Dublin with more atmosphere. How he'd fucking like it if some twat started talking shite in between speeches and dishes, not letting him get into the mood of it or talking for so long that the mood would start abandoning him...

Mike, simply because I hate him and I now regret my one missed appointment with fate... I could have hurt him or worse, months before he made it big. I simply didn't know at the time that the fucking irritating waiter (whom I anyway wanted to hurt) would be him.

The Ugly:
The urinals by the pyramid stage. Piss mud, what it seemed to be waist high and slippery as fuck which made you (nearly) shit yourself when you went for a wee, with your heart in your mouth, dreading a fall into the piss mud.
That cunt that started pissing in the middle of the crowd in between the Klaxons and CSS. Pretending that nothing was happening, but nevertheless he just wee'd there.

The wait for the coaches. Freezing cold rain, organising skills that people in Mexico would be ashamed of and no fucking sleep make it difficult to enjoy when after a great weekend you are desperate to go home.

Apparently shortly after our (2 hour late) coach turned up and we left, the red cross was called in as people were suffering from hypothermia.

Anyway, so that was my compressed version of events, I fucking loved, I hated the mud, but it made walking so hard that my thighs now look like Lance Amstrong's. The food was great and though I spent a fair bit of money I still think it was worth it and will definitely try to go next year.

Ta, ta.