paging mr TOM E. for his COLA slash POULTRY pleasure
coke-butt chicken (courtesy aldo cowpat)
28 June 2005
OH! MY! GOD!
So we all saw the website on the side of the branded cups, but in our wildest dreams did we think that they would DELIVER PERRY TO YOUR DOOR!!!??
SO NUMMY!! SO IMPLAUSIBLE!!
my friend T – who cooks by wild shamanic inspiration – made a sidedish of popcorn lightly sprinkled w. curry powder and ground cumin
ADD SALT TO TASTE
(we actually had it w.steamed salmon, carrots, brocolli and salad but i think it wd go with other ting just as well)
27 June 2005
YOU HAVE BEEN INVITED TO A SAUSAGE PARTY…
… but have no suitable luggage – what do you do? Tracer Hand of ilx has the answer.
I’d Rather See Dave Lee Travis Play Macbeth
I had a sublime experience watching Primal Scream at Glastonbury a few years ago. There. I. Said. It. They popped up on BBC3 yesterday with ColinandEdith, and it was a… ridiculous experience. Booby Gillespie’s (real typo, kids) ‘I am a 45-year-old junkie’ act was the very definition of sad-sack punker rockism. At 17, I probably would have loved it: “OMG! Someone just said ‘techno Jerry Lee Lewis’”. Twat. And they slagged off Basement Jaxx.
In general though, having up to five channels covering Glasto was awesome fuckin’ welles. I still haven’t lost the habit of looking for people I know in the crowd. The music was a bit pish overall, but any TV Glasto vet will tell you that’s, like, beside the point: it’s the experience that counts.
HKM in Do You See • No Comments
Hello, and High Water
Expect a tumble of fractional posts over the next few days covering all the stuff we saw and did at Glastonbury. For now, it’s enough to say that we survived, only one of our tents didn’t make it through the thunderstorm, and once we’d all got kitted out and adjusted our expectations we all had a terrific time (at least I think we all did) (anyway I did). In contrast to last year when the festival just got a bit more miserable and dreary as things muddied up, the floods this year were genuinely spectacular and quite exciting – at the same time as you dearly wanted them to stop there was a sense of morbid fascination about quite how awful things were going to get.
They also happened at a pretty good time – on the Thursday night they’d have ruined the big social evening, later in the weekend they’d have made the festival end on a sticky low not a sweaty high. But the floods right before things got started properly, meaning everybody had plenty of time to plan (and the stalls time to get more wellies in). They meant that we plotted our days much more carefully – there was a lot less wandering about, a lot more consideration of what people wanted to do and a lot more sticking together – I’ll remember it for the friendliness (general and within our group) as much as for the deluge.
Tom in Blog 7 • No Comments
26 June 2005
Charles Wells’ Summer Solstice 4.1% ABV
a sight more delicious than Bombardier, so thank you, and
NUM NUM as luck would have it
25 June 2005
GOOD or EVIL? YOU DECIDE
YOU DECIDE can ads PWN good art?
is the art PWNd by ads good?
when ILM is funny it is very very funny
pˆnk s lord sükråt cunctør in FT /New York London Paris Munich • No Comments
24 June 2005
Sounds like a wet one…
When you’re not AT Glastonbury but feel as though you should be a curious conflict can develop in your mind as well as in the media. Radio 1, NME and other portals capitalise on the festival’s perpetual popularity excessively as if to justify their own existence further, their tone generally and irritatingly obsessive yet vacuous and trite and as giddy as the 16 year olds who messed up their GCSEasies and now head for The Rolling Fields Of Avalon (TM) to get inebriated on booze-injected pear-ade and possibly lose their virginity in a hedge by the toilets while The Zutons arse about on The Other Stage. This in mild contrast to what always seems a deeply cynical, schaudenfreude-tastic yet desperate effort by the Grown-Up News to report on the event, with just a hint of wry glee if a few spots of rain dog proceedings and send tents ‘floating’ and welly sales soaring.
Part of me remains that sanguine 16 year old about the whole thing, the other a jaded tosspot apparently pleased that other people are not necessarily having more fun than I am after all (surely this is not allowed). A conflict that seemingly can never be resolved.
But Glastonbury’s capricious meteorological issues aside, you cannot fail to have fun there. The only question is how much and whether it will match the probably unrealistic expectations in your head. So as I now imagine how nice it must be to hear ‘Teenage Kicks’ belted out defiantly and honourably by a withering Fergal and gang from the rain-lashed Pyramid stage, the Tor a distant, faded friend heralding you from afar, reminding you of the site’s unrelenting charm. You bastards, I wish I was there, again…