ISSUE 29 June 30th 2000
		G L A S T O N B U R Y . . . P A R T 7 . . . . . After being kicked out of a ‘spiritual curry house’, I once again headed towards the Pyramid stage for my next musical experience. And what a Gay ‘o’ time I had ! Whoever had the idea of putting the Pet Shop Boys on needs a massive wet kiss. Who needs drugs when you’ve got these two lifeless souls on a huge stage with nothing but a white back drop ? Actually, you do need drugs ! So after another ‘LSD Onion Bargee’ I was suddenly back watching Zippy and Bungle on ice ! Admittedly, they did sound great. (This was probably helped by the fact the keyboard player had little more to do than make sure that the CD of their greatest hits was not skipping). And old ‘bum fingers’ Neil Tennant was like Dale Winton in a sausage shop. He was lapping it up, as they played to a field of sweaty men. I was as naked as the day I was born, (and my cock was also the size it was the day I was born.) It didn’t matter. They ended their encore with ‘Go West’, and half the audience took their advise and legged it towards the Dance Tent for some more ‘bottom thumping’ music. Did I want to stick around for Travis? Of course not ! I had made many close friends whilst ‘bombed off my tits’ and I now wanted to see what my new friend Barry’s ‘cottage’ looked like. Isn’t it funny that Cottage and ‘Cottaging’ sound so similar when stood naked in a field with loud music blaring in your face? After giving Barry a good fisting (no bottom involved, just his face and my ‘fist’) I got friendly with a young farmer who let me camp in his field for ‘peanuts’. Another day, another victory. I didn’t know who I was, or indeed, where I was, but by Sunday morning I had discovered that the words ‘peanuts’ and ‘penis’ also sound very similar when totally fucked, as I awoke with a farmer chewing on my ‘finger mouse’. After laying there for a good few hours, I decided it was probably best to make my excuses and leave. He said I’d blown the whole thing out of proportion, but looking at the state of my ‘love pole’, I say it was clearly old ‘farmer Giles’ who had ‘blown it all out of proportion.’ The Full Story BEN