Because we're all fenced in together
We are all – you, me, that woman over there – mega excited about the upcoming festival season. The boozy mornings! The secret gigs! The giddy rush when your favourite band plays your favourite song to tens of thousands of loved-up people! Mainly the boozy mornings! And yet. Someone always finds a way to be a dick at a festival, let loose from their lives and free to inflict their awful, uninhibited personalities on the unsuspecting public for three, possibly four whole days. Yet it needn’t be this way. Please, for the sake of us all, for everyone’s benefit – don’t be dick this festival season.
Don’t sit on someone’s shoulders in front of me
We see you up there, your pal’s hear sprouting up from between your legs like a lost chest burster-from Alien. Look, we’re all friends here, yeah? No-one’s saying I’ll blast you out of the air lock, no-one‘s saying I’ll scorch you with a flame-thrower, but – hoo boy! – will I ever give you a dirty look.
Don’t piss on my tent in the middle of the night
Don’t do it at any time, really, please. Piss on your own tent, if your must. Piss on your own tent as if it were a canvas urinal containing your essential belongings, but leave mine as dry as the over-cooked burger that just cost me eight quid.
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Don’t hold a sign that says “free hugs”
We’re on to you, pervert.
Don’t wear a morph suit
Congratulations, you look like a human condom.
Don’t shout “Alan!!” over and over again
It was funny when the BBC made that TV show where they dubbed human voices onto clips of wild animals in 2009 and one of them shouted “Alan!” a lot, wasn’t it? Oh yes, ho ho ho, it was very funny indeed. We all laughed in the year 2009. Yet the year is now 2018. We all like Brockhampton and have started our own podcasts. Give it a rest, you time machine fucktards.
Don’t bottle acts you don’t like
Imagine there’s a piece of your soul in every bottle you chuck at the stage, because it’s sort of true.
Don’t start a circle pit to The Vaccines
Or any other act that really doesn’t warrant a circle or mosh pit. Look, everyone’s excited about Disclosure at Reading & Leeds, but if you find yourself charging at some poor kid as Jessie Ware sings softly over plaintive keys on ‘Alone’, maybe get you some anger management.
Don’t be a minion
Apparently it’s now a thing to go to a festival dressed up as a Minion from the Despicable Me films, which – a reminder – are made for children. You’re a grown human adult. You have work on Tuesday. What are you doing? You look like a tumour in a boiler suit.
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Don’t play your acoustic guitar in the campsite
And after all / your talent is small.
Don’t wear a mankini
Fuck’s sake. Dress as a Minion, if you have to. I mean, Jesus Christ, wear a morph suit, if you really must. Just… do me a favour and just keep that thing away from me. You’re not Borat. You’re not even that bellend from TOWIE. You look like a burst sausage, sliding out of its skin.