From sad people, to incredibly sad moments on stage to sad music, the otherwise happy world of music festivals are also filled with several sad moments. Shed a tear with us.
1. This incredibly depressing urban legend, or what have you.
Back in the 70s, the Reading Festival arena was encircled by a ditch with a wire fence along the bottom. There was also a path around the fence, patrolled by security staff in Jeeps to stop freeloaders. There is a story that one typically wet summer’s evening, one of the Jeeps skidded on a corner and crashed down into the ditch, slicing through a lighting supply cable from a generator, and causing a short circuit to the wire fence. Some way along the ditch, a hairy youth (no doubt drenched in patchouli) had decided that it was an ideal impromptu urinal to let out some of the Watney’s Red Barrel consumed. And so it was, until the connection to the high voltage cable via his stream of urine left him in need of hospital treatment, and incontinent for several days.
It is possible that this is so good, it has to be an urban myth, but I can vouch for the existence at the time of ditch, fence and jeeps!
– Cranked Marshall
2. This adult, not ready to adult just yet.
Few years back,Ii took some naughtiness and ended up being a tripped out, paranoid wreck. Called my mother begging me to come and get me (I was 25 years old) and when she couldn’t, I borrowed a friends car and had the sketchiest drive back to my house 50 miles away. I felt so rough, thought I needed to go to hospital so confessed all to my mum and she made me ring Frank!
3. Whenever this happens, not just to you, but to your entire group –
4. This most embarrassing thing that should not happen to anyone, in the history of ever!
The Sun had reported of this really unfortunate victim, Charlotte Taylor who not only got stuck in a toilet at Leeds Festival, but had to be hosed out of it.
They speak of the incident –
“My bag had my phone, train ticket and all my money in it, so if I left it I wouldn’t have been able to get home and I would have been stranded.
“I put one hand down but I couldn’t reach so I put the other one down too to try and grab it.
“But I was straining so far down that I got wedged.” She added: “My shoulders were stuck on both sides and I couldn’t move at all.
“I was struggling and trying to get out and it just made it worse. I knew I couldn’t get out myself and was so embarrassed.”
After 20 minutes a team of firefighters arrived and used brute force to pull her out of the stinking portaloo.
5. This cringe-worthy occurrence we’re too weak to picture
I got grabbed from behind at the urinal and ended up fighting some drunken arsehole with my dick halfway out my pants
6. This person, who had to double up as a trashcan instead of enjoying the festival.
7. This painful heartbreak to Drake’s performance at Wireless Music Festival –
My wife announced she was leaving me in the middle of Drake’s ‘Crew Love’. Admittedly it was only to go back to the flat we shared at the time but in all honesty it did rather take the edge of Drizzy’s unique blend of aspirational misery. When you’re stood on your own in the pouring rain, sinking slowly into the mud as the on-stage moaning-about-models kicks in in earnest, things simply couldn’t get much worse. I pretended my Tuborg was a white wine cooler, downed it and left early.
Andy Morris, GQ.co.uk editor, GQ
8. This person, too high to realise the number of phones he/she might be landing in –
9. You know what’s sadder than poop? No-poop.
But the worst, worse part of camping all weekend is the constipation that at some point, like a time-bomb, will have to explode. But when and where are the two things that will haunt you all weekend. Being a man having a number one is literally a piece-of-piss, but the backside dilemmas are a cruel, cruel world that no one should have to face. My explosion happened about 1:13 pm on the Sunday. My tummy rumbled. The constipation had eased. A quick tour of the festival conveniences and I chose my destination. Little did I know what to expect, but on opening the cubicle I was met by a stench that is impossible to portray by the written word. Just end of days stink-time. As I gagged, trying to not breathe any of it in, I then noticed how filthy the seat was, but it was too late to leave, the motions were not to be reversed. I used my arms and legs like Spiderman and squatted about a foot above seat and my legs trembled as it all exploded beneath me, still without taking one single breath. Finally the orgasmic post-poo relief kicked in and on jumping back down to the ground found out to my horror that by Sunday afternoon at a festival, finding any bum-tickers is a likely as winning the lotto and not for the first time in my life I had to use my socks to clean myself up! It was a horror show.
I still refuse to camp to this day. It is the music I adore not the tent time mis-adventures. Remember always being wet wipes people. Always!
Francis Jolley, Hit The Floor
10. And this poor rapper trying to stop this sexual assault.
