I hate having kids about be when I'm battered, it just feels so wrong.
I was at The Radio 1 One Big Weekender in Sunderland with about a half gram of MDMA and three pills down my neck, getting buckled to a various number of DJs in torrential rain/high winds/thunder/hailstone to name a few extreme weather conditions.
I was standing in the queue for the portaloos (completely in bits, jaw tremors the lot) when one of about 4 girls infront of me asked me why my lips had gone blue (just a little bit wrecked) and my face was doing "that". I replied that they just go like that sometimes to which they replied "are you on ecstacy". Yes, I replied, I'm absolutely fucked. It was at that point I looked up to realise they were about 9 years old, a fuck load of random parents/people had just turned round (policeman were also standing meters away) to look at me in horror when one of them said "can you get us some".
I turned round, bolted from the queue and legged it into the crowd as fast as I could. I couldn't run properly, I was nearly falling over and almost shit myself everytime I seen a kid trying to find my mates stumbling through the crowd. Then some charvers started laughing at me and one of them tried to nick my hat.
TRAUMATISED.