It’s this weekend, so have fun, all yous who are going. Cos I’m not.
I heard it’s meant to rain, hahahaha. Naw, sorry, have fun. I’m normally happy to hear it’s pissing down when I’m not going, but I’m in a good mood, and I want you to have a good time.
I really wish I could like it, I really do, the lineup looks brilliant, big names everywhere. But the problem for me is that I don’t like any one act enough to want to buy a ticket to go and see them. I like one song from one band, one song from another, and there are a few people I want to see just for the sake of seeing them in the flesh.
“Aye, but Limmy, you’re missing the point. The point is that at a festival, you can float between all these…”
Fucking shut up.
Aye, that works if you go on your tod. That works if you’re not with half a dozen people, probably more, and yous are all wanting to head in different directions.
The problem is that people are different. I could fancy going to see Pete Doherty to see what condition he’s in. I’d walk for about 5 or 10 minutes to wherever he is, I’d go in, I’d see him, and that would be me, ready to leave. But then the people you’ve dragged there would want to stay for a few minutes longer, maybe even a few songs longer.
I would be in a situation where I’m forced to listen to Pete Doherty songs.
In fact, there you are, I could have saved myself all this typing if I just said that one sentence at the start. The problem with T in the Park is that I could be forced to listen to Pete Doherty songs.
No, I don’t like Pete Doherty.
“Aye, but Limmy, you have to give credit where…”
Aye but, naw but, three bags full but. Forget about Pete Doherty. Let’s focus on the Pet Shop Boys.
I love the Pet Shop Boys. One of my favourite bands of all time. I’d drag people along there. On would come Neil and Chris. No way, there they are, first time I’ve seen them live, excellent. There they’d start with New York City boy, or some other newish one that I fucking hate. But a classic would come eventually, West End Girls or whatever. And someone I’m with would point out that it’s unfortunate that Neil Tennant now sounds like a seagull. And I’d point out to them that I said the same thing on my blog back in March.
We’d stay for another. They’d do Go West. I’d say, right, let’s go. But lots of people like Go West, lots of people bar me, and I’d have to stay.
I’d be forced to listen to the Pet Shop Boys. And I like the Pet Shop Boys. What a mind boggling prospect.
Anyway, the music’s not the problem. As we all know, it’s the neds. There are too many neds at T in the Park, causing trouble.
Is there fuck.
Fucking sick of hearing that, and I’ll tell you who says it. These fucking snobs. These fucking toffs with the American Glasgow accents. The accents you hear on the underground. The accents you hear coming from the youngsters with the school blazers, that lot. The American Glasgow accents, the Glasgow American accents. Glamerican accents.
That lot.
A few drunk cunts go wandering by, a few drunk cunts with their tops off. And they sound like me. Therefore they’re neds, and they’re trouble.
I don’t know what’s got into me today, sorry. No offence if you have a Glamerican accent. But my inner child fucking hates you.
Enjoy T in the Park, everybody! Don’t die!
