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Glastonbury 2005 Blog
By Johnny Finger

Blogs are just so modern aren't they? Rather than do a standard review I've decided to to do a blog for my Glastonbury 2005 adventure


The monsoon like weather has thrown the Pilton Farm festival site into chaos. This acts in our favour as none of us has tickets and we have no intention of paying in. Due to the conditions, it is decided that the easiest method for the jib will be a straight forward tunnel under the fabled impregnable fence. One of our party is a feisty little Vietnamese chap called Vo Nguyen Giap, or Vo for short. Vo is legend in his homeland. Not only is he my sensei in the noble art of Cuong-nhu (a Vietnamese martial art, Vo’s specialist discipline involves fighting with sharpened bamboo stakes, tipped with pigs jizz) but he is an expert tunneller, schooled in Cu Chi, during his homelands conflict with the USA.

As the rain eases off, Vo sorts the tunnel out. We get all our kit through and rather than collapse the tunnel, Vo decides to charge other ticketless punters for its use… “10 dong for wan, 15 dong for two, goodtime” is Vo’s catchy sales pitch.


We manage to get a good spec for the tents, on a hill so as not to get washed away in the flood. Due to the imposing wrought iron gates erected at the entrance to my tent, it is christened “Southfork” by the rest of the group. I decide to share my palatial residence with three ripened sirens, obviously impressed by monogrammed gortex smoking jacket. Vo dumps his fatigues outside the group’s perimeter – he’s not one for sleeping, and rolls out a contraption made entirely from banana leaves.


We enjoy a quite night in, I break out the acoustic and belt out Lead Boots while the nubile’s cavort raucously. Dressed only in webbing and chindit flop hats, they get Vo excited by dry humping each other. For tea we each rice pudding straight from the can using sporks, my favourite duo-utensil.


FRIDAY, June 24

With power cuts forcing the stages to close due to safety issues, we head off for a nose around. Vo tags along, leaving our pitch secure with an assortment of booby traps that includes spiked mud balls, double-spike caltrops, and scorpion-filled boxes.

The festival site currently resembles a series of lakes, and we have learnt that a number of artist tour buses have been advised to wait off site until conditions improve. Luckily, we have packed a collapsible plastic patrol boat and ease our way through the Glastonbury Delta.


We are gutted to hear that the Dead 60's have gone the way of the weather but there are plenty of other acts that more that make up it. Festival highlight so far was a remarkably assured set by The Killers. The witching hour usually serves up a bit of magic and tonight is no different, with the Vegas act rousing a massive crowd with their 80's influenced hits.

Other notable performances from Doves and Elvis Costello set the night up for a blinding show by the White Stripes. We follow the crowds to the Lost Vagueness field, the silver service dinner was a sight to behold, with patrons preparing for a good session in the on-site casino. The punters really dress up for the occasion. I was prepared for this and I broke out my Lone Ranger outfit, Vo quite fittingly went along as Tonto. At the roulette table we got chatting to a couple of ladies, mine looked okay but Vo’s was ringer for Lady Rough Diamond. We head off to the silent disco (with revellers given wireless headphones) and dance until dawn. Vo and I carried a bizarre concoction of glamour, style and decadence. I slept well after dancing the night away, my slumber only interrupted by Vo’s occasional shouts of FUCK YOU G.I.


Not as much of a change as people had hoped today, although the rain has vanished. Most of the vast pools of water have gone, replaced by sticky, black mud. One of the girls at Southfork cooks nice big fry up for me and the others. I have to eat mine out of Vo’s prying beady little eyes. He is a strict veggie and being my sensei, expects me to follow suite. Vo’s maxim is “gorilla most pumped animal in jungle, he only eat leaves and plants, make you tough like king kong!” .


Authorities have also issued a health warning to people embracing the mud. To be on the safe side, I rustle up a few G&T’s (the quinine in the tonic staves off malaria, medical fact fans).

A lot of people are heading down to the main stage to catch the address by Bob Geldof at 4pm, ahead of the global Live 8 events next week. A memo has been sent out asking people to join hands in support of Make Poverty History. We manage to wangle a few backstage passes and bumped into George Galloway, Ide Amin, Tito Jackson and Ron Jeremy playing knockout pairs near the Pimms tent. Amin was asking for the ball to played to his feet but gorgeous George was too busy showboating. “This isn’t what Glasto’s about” I said to Vo, he nodded and we moved back into the crowd and started pogoing to the Kaiser Chiefs.


“This now is the final leg to the long walk to justice," says Bob Geldof. " Glastonbury begins that last push," referring to the Long Walk to Justice, which climaxes in Edinburgh on July 6. With all the wet weather, I’ve contracted a touch of trench foot…sorry Bob, you’ll have to go without me.

Coldplay are the headline act on the Pyramid, I hurry backstage clutching a copy of Catcher in the Rye shouting “HE’S NO RICHARD STILGOE” but I’m rugby tackled by a female security guard who’s a cross between Rosa Kleb and Googie Withers. Vo wants to snap her neck but I call him off “save your energy for Primal Scream my friend”.


SUNDAY, June 26

No more mention of wet weather; much of Somerset has been bathed in glorious, hazy sunshine for most of the afternoon. Walking through the campsite, now resembling more of a bombsite, there is order and chaos at one with one another - random items like small boats, clothing and half bottles of single malt whiskey, parted from their owners, most probably, by force of nature.


Southfork has stood up to the elements, Su Ellen, Miss Elle and Pam look radiant in their Fair Trade sarongs/bikini combos. Their attire looked right at home during Brian “puddled genius” Wilson ’s set. Brian performed to a huge crowd in glorious sunshine, running through some of the best-loved songs of all time. "We brought the Californian sunshine," he slobbered before rattling through classics, including 'Good Vibrations', 'California Girls' and a four-song encore, which included 'Surfing USA'. Vo was nearly in tears.


Chip pan head Ian Brown and bassist Mani were back together in front of one of the biggest ever crowds witnessed at the Glastonbury Other Stage. We opted for Basement Jaxx over on the Pyramid stage. Despite being barracked by Dizzy Gillespie (tonight Matthew, I’m going to be be dead naughty, m’kay?), they really set up the night with a fantastic show. We quite literally danced from the Pyramid stage to Lost Vagueness, Vo led the conga in his favourite dragon pyjamas, pausing only to verbally abuse a bewildered Rufus Wainwright…a strange ending to a superb few days…










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