F.U.B.A.R.
Bluelight Crew
Eeeee, Stonehenge 84 will forever be etched in my memory as the best of times and the worst of times.
Me and a mate hitch hiked down from Warrington with heads full of speed. The last stretch of the journey was with a couple of hippie chicks who we totally failed to get off with.
I'll never forget traversing the brow of a hill to find the whole site laid resplendent before us like a medieval war encampment. The smell of wood smoke and black hash hung heavy in the air.
Having been thoroughly binned off by the hippie chicks, the first thing we did was score some hash. Set up camp, got wasted and crashed out to the throbbing vibrations of over amplified dub reggae.
Woke up in the morning desperate for a shit.
Problem. Only one set of toilets on site.
Joined the endless queue with an interminable rumbling in my guts.
After 30 minutes of queueing, the rumbling became critical. Realised I couldn't hold on much longer and made a run for the surrounding fields. Unfortunately, a mistimed fart became a shart, which subsequently became a tsunami of shite in my pants. These were left unceremoniously on the branches of a tree in some poor farmer's field. (No wonder people hate hippies.)
Luckily, I'd packed a spare pair of jeans.
After the gutrot subsided, I ran into a couple of scouse bikers I knew who happened to be selling smack on site. Unfortunately, they had been selling to one of the angels, who then decided to slash open their tent one night in an attempt to retrieve them of their gear. He got no gear, (it was in my tent), but he did get all of the money. So the scousers only went and battered the cunt, breaking his arm in the process.
Cue two scouse bikers exiting the site extremely quickly, before the angels could retaliate.
Next day, I found the opium and black hot knives bus. One for 50p, or 3 for a quid. Fuckin no brainer.
The entrance side of the bus had a long queue of expectant and salivating freaks waiting for their turn.
The exit side showed the grim reality. The grass was littered with the remains of what were formally known as 'people', all uttering the same mantra; "Fuckin hell man, I'm wasted!!".
Fast forward to solstice eve and a young Fubz totally off his tits on acid, speed, smack, opium and black watching the Hawks play through the night.
Then a commotion broke out right in front of me. Some very tall and skinny Charles Manson lookalike decided it would be a good idea to start taunting one of the angels. To be fair, the angel (who was twice as wide as he was tall) kept his cool for a while. Until eventually he'd had enough, pulled out a massive a knife and started licking the blade with a wild look in his eyes. It was at that point that another one of our group (who wasn't quite a full shilling - think Syd Barret syndrome), happened to appear right between the two of them. Time for a fuckin sharp exit. I was seriously expecting another Altamont scenario, but rather than 'Sympathy for the Devil', the soundtrack was 'Uncle Sam's on Mars'.
The rest of the stay was thankfully quite uneventful, I think.
One memory that stands out was the bus loads of tourists that drove around the site taking photos like they were in a wildlife park.
Fuckin bizarre...
Me and a mate hitch hiked down from Warrington with heads full of speed. The last stretch of the journey was with a couple of hippie chicks who we totally failed to get off with.
I'll never forget traversing the brow of a hill to find the whole site laid resplendent before us like a medieval war encampment. The smell of wood smoke and black hash hung heavy in the air.
Having been thoroughly binned off by the hippie chicks, the first thing we did was score some hash. Set up camp, got wasted and crashed out to the throbbing vibrations of over amplified dub reggae.
Woke up in the morning desperate for a shit.
Problem. Only one set of toilets on site.
Joined the endless queue with an interminable rumbling in my guts.
After 30 minutes of queueing, the rumbling became critical. Realised I couldn't hold on much longer and made a run for the surrounding fields. Unfortunately, a mistimed fart became a shart, which subsequently became a tsunami of shite in my pants. These were left unceremoniously on the branches of a tree in some poor farmer's field. (No wonder people hate hippies.)
Luckily, I'd packed a spare pair of jeans.
After the gutrot subsided, I ran into a couple of scouse bikers I knew who happened to be selling smack on site. Unfortunately, they had been selling to one of the angels, who then decided to slash open their tent one night in an attempt to retrieve them of their gear. He got no gear, (it was in my tent), but he did get all of the money. So the scousers only went and battered the cunt, breaking his arm in the process.
Cue two scouse bikers exiting the site extremely quickly, before the angels could retaliate.
Next day, I found the opium and black hot knives bus. One for 50p, or 3 for a quid. Fuckin no brainer.
The entrance side of the bus had a long queue of expectant and salivating freaks waiting for their turn.
The exit side showed the grim reality. The grass was littered with the remains of what were formally known as 'people', all uttering the same mantra; "Fuckin hell man, I'm wasted!!".
Fast forward to solstice eve and a young Fubz totally off his tits on acid, speed, smack, opium and black watching the Hawks play through the night.
Then a commotion broke out right in front of me. Some very tall and skinny Charles Manson lookalike decided it would be a good idea to start taunting one of the angels. To be fair, the angel (who was twice as wide as he was tall) kept his cool for a while. Until eventually he'd had enough, pulled out a massive a knife and started licking the blade with a wild look in his eyes. It was at that point that another one of our group (who wasn't quite a full shilling - think Syd Barret syndrome), happened to appear right between the two of them. Time for a fuckin sharp exit. I was seriously expecting another Altamont scenario, but rather than 'Sympathy for the Devil', the soundtrack was 'Uncle Sam's on Mars'.
The rest of the stay was thankfully quite uneventful, I think.
One memory that stands out was the bus loads of tourists that drove around the site taking photos like they were in a wildlife park.
Fuckin bizarre...
