MUSIC FESTIVAL DIATRIBE

I hate the very idea of music festivals. I tend to look at the bill, think "oh, i like three of those bands. Now i will pay 200 quid and buy some camping gear, and some festival worthy clothing. Then arrange to get to this event. Then book time off work to go to this event....." then i give up and go listen to the album because chances are the band i do like sound shite live anyway.
Why do they bother with rap acts? Nobody likes "urban" music at these festivals. They have money for tickets and urban swill is for poor people. You're not very ghetto if you attend a private school and your mum and dad have bought you a fucking flat in hoxton. You're a bellend trying to be something you're not. I'm a complete bastard. I know this, i don't pretend otherwise. STOP PRETENDING TO LIKE RAP. NOW.
It always makes me chuckle when music festivals have some random "world music" act on that NOT. ONE. FUCKER. likes and they stand there grinning hitting a bin and chanting for half an hour. Like that bloody youssou n'dour bloke at live 8. who the fuck came to see him? Bollocks to that. "oh pink floyd have reformed but i'm here to see that bloke who sang with neneh cherry many years ago on one song". Not bloody likely. Not even people on drugs like this shit. Fuck world music. You know what's awesome? British, american and norwegian music. That's why the rest of it is called world music. It's like when we call thick kids "special". Theyre just fuck stupid but if we dress it up a bit they may not take to constant weeping due to them being dealt such a shit hand in life. Therefore world music is made exclusively by retarded children. And Peter Gabriel.
What's worse than the lineup? Why your fellow festival goers of course! There's the dreadlocked wanker doing poy because he's oh-so-fucking free spirited. The bellend who has been coming to the same bastard festival for 30 years now and has brought his monumentally irritating family along so they can all watch fucking hawkwind. The knobhead wearing the tshirt from the 1987 event that he wears EVERY FUCKING YEAR. The posh as fuck little Tarquins who refer to Glastonbury as "Glarr-sters" who should be summarily rounded up and gassed. The misguided fuckwits abound, meaning the likes of you and i (well, maybe you, i mean you might be reading this all annoyed now with wisps of steam flowing krakatoa-like from your ears. In that case, fuck off. Because really i do mean most of this post. I know i'm just trying to be funny most of the time but this time i'm being selfish and actually writing something i'm quite honest about. Except the retarded kids part. There's nothing funny about sick kids) can't enjoy seeing a load of bands.
Camping. Thats shit. I know, i'll leave the comfort of my home for three days to sleep under some very thin material while a spontaneous drum circle occurs for eight bastard hours. Fuck off. I'll shit in your drums then make you wear them like a fucking barrell. Parading your shit-festooned, horrid little barrellself around the whole fucking country with "DRUM CUNT" carved into your forehead. Bastard hippies. no, here's what will happen. I'll stay home and you can put up with paloma faith playing freeform jazz with some homeless cubans who can only play one stringed zithers and hit pans.

I'm actually going to bed now because i may die from rage. Goodnight you sexy, sexy people.