Fairly decent article in ye olde newspaper of record (c/w bad spelling, not Tori) about how expensive Irlanda music festivals are. Although there IS a ‘no shit sherlock’ element to it for anyone who has been living in this Fabergé-egg quaffing country for the past 20 years. Incensed, I spilled my latte on my gold plated retriever and spat brioche into my child’s face. He was unimpressed and smashed my rolex to pieces. Feckin knacker!
There are so many music festivals in Irlanda now, that the other day as I was loading the shopping into the boot of the car, I was surrounded by a bunch of dirty hippies screaming things like, “I’m lovin’ the way the bags are eco-friendly.” A sound system appeared from nowhere and a rave broke out in the car park, named after me putting the shopping in the car. A girl shouted to me that she was lovin’ the festival. The guy beside her shouted that he was lovin’ the way she danced. A security guard asked me had I a special festival car ticket and was I just lovin’ the older age group at this festival. I explained that this was a car park, but I am not lovin’ the fact that a fifteen minute ride home will take two hours now. I felt ill after using that phrase in that way and went to a taco stand and asked was there any toilet roll left in the portaloos… There wasn’t.