Kendal Called, I Wish I Never Answered, Episode 1: Bush Adventures, Skanking Nanas and Pyrates.

Well, where to start? It was an interesting weekend. I think its only fair to begin from the beginning. It is conventional. Some may say it is clichéd. Those people can get stuffed.

On Friday, I went to Kendal Calling, a medium sized music festival held, this year, 15 minutes down the road from my house.
My weekend didn't actually get interesting until Saturday night, but I feel I should set the scene.
Because there's a lot to get through, this will probably be a multi part blog. Arrogant of me to assume you're interested? Well you've read this far.

Even though it was a short car journey away, we decided we would camp. It's what festivals are for.
There were three of us in our party who, for anonymity's sake, I will give pseudonyms.
There was "Strauss", a good friend from school and uni, his older brother, "Tank" and myself, the amazing "Nettofabulous".
Tank was going to Millets to purchase camping equipment and I asked him to pick me up a sleeping bag, which he did. What a kind lad. Shame the fucker forgot to bring it!
There was the usual long cue to get in to the camping area, a long trek after the ticket check. Standard stuff.
We pitched our tent next to another old school friend and his pals, I shall call him "Tasty Jesus" as he has a beard, long hair and he's full of shit."Tasty" will be explained in a later post.

After sitting about, drinking for a while, waiting until the main area opened, I became overwhelmed with the pressing urge to do a number one toilet time. Rather than hit the festival loos and cue until for ages, I ducked off into some trees for a tinkle. After I had finished and tucked myself back in I returned to the narrow path in the forest area.

"Argh, there's a man!"
Whoops! There were four, somewhat attractive, young, ladies in various stages of urination. There were two girls on either side of the path.
"Don't worry, I've seen girls peeing before. You, my dear, have a good strong stream. Like a racehorse. Would it be a faux pas to offer a high 5?"
One of the girls had finished and was trying to pull her skirt down and underwear up at the same time whilst holding a drink. "It's too late now isn't it?"
"I'm afraid so, there's no modesty to be saved now." I replied.
"Just as well. I have no loo paper so I'll have to drip dry."
At this point I wanted to hug her, not in a sexual way.well maybe a bit.
The third girl, shocked by my sudden appearance on the path, fell back on to her arse, as she was mid squat, whilst peeing. I found this funny. As did girl four who had already finished and was casually waiting for her friends to finish up. Nobody helped girl three as she tried to push her self off the floor whilst simultaneously holding her skirt and pants out of the way of her pee AND holding them in such a way as to protect her modesty.
I would like to say I was very adult about the whole situation and just walked on, keeping eye contact at all times. I would like to say that, but I would be lying. Of course I looked at the front bums on display. Three of them. No hair in sight. I'd like to think that girl four had a massive 70s bush, to balance things out.

Back at the tent, we filled up our hip flasks with lashings of wonderful Jack Daniels and hit the festival area.
We got our bearings by just wandering about. The only band we really wanted to see was Goldie Lookin Chain, so we stopped by some of the smaller stages to see some unknowns; this is the best way I feel.

The first act we saw was one man with an acoustic guitar. He was called Captain Hotknives. It was pretty obvious from the outset that he was either a comedy act, or just an utter cunt. His first song was called "I hate babies." With the sing-a-long chorus of "I hate babies. I fucking hate babies."
It's worth bearing in mind that this was at two in the afternoon. Parents with children shook their heads in disgust as 50 drunken revellers sang along at the top of their voices. Another hit with the audience was the remarkable tale of how he stole his grandmother's drug money, "I skanked me nana". Good times.

We chuckled off for more wandering before a few drinks, then off to the main stage to see Goldie Lookin Chain. They were amazing. New instrumentals for some of their tracks. Some poorly, yet hilariously choreographed dance moves. Shout outs to the crowd, such as "I hope you have the best weekend ever. I hope you get a finger in, even if you're a girl."
They did not let me down.

Headlining were The Streets. Understandably I wanted nothing to do with that Brummy, mockney, scum cunt and his pseudo, street poetry. His very existence makes me want to crawl up inside myself and eat my auditory canal.
Instead of The Streets we went back to where we saw Captain Hotknives. This time we were met with "Pyrates". Three men in their early 20s singing authentic sea shanties dressed as proper pirates. At first we three thought, "What the fuck is this?"
We hung around a little longer and realised that we should not have been so quick to judge. People of all ages were dancing proper jigs, linking arms and spinning round. Every time an "Yarrrrrrr!" was uttered in a song, the audience responded with an "Yarrrrr!" of their own. The lead singer (Captain?) seemed overcome by this, "You lot are good with the "Yarrrrrrrr!" We should take you on tour with us"
The audience response was a deafening cacophony of "Yarrrhaaarrrrrhaaaaarrrrrrr!"

"Have you ever seen a program called "Sharpe"? This is the song that is featured during the opening credits"
What followed was a rousing and emotional cover of "Over the hills and far away." Everyone was really into it. Singing along at the top of their voices. There were TWO mandolin solos, one of which was played behind the first mate's head, a la Hendrix.
It was outstanding!

At this point I came up with the idea of getting Sean Bean to be in the video for it, if they ever release it as a single. Sean Bean on a rocky outcrop, playing a rifle customised into a guitar with a helicopter sweeping around him filming it, while his regiment are behind him killing an oncoming French battalion. I must make some phone calls to arrange this.

Final song played, "Thank you all so much, you made this an amazing night for us." At this point there was the slightest of silences and I spotted my chance.
I took a deep breath. "YARRRRRRRRRRRR!"
A smile broke out on the band's face as the rest of the audience waited for my "Yarrr" to end before producing the biggest "Yarr" of the night in response. I felt good.

After this, the was simply more wandering, a bit of pizza, a piss then back to the tent for a sleepless, uncomfortable, freezing cold night. I still had no sleeping bag.

If you've read this far, you may be wondering what the point of this blog is. This is merely the opening episode.

Next Time on Kendal Called, I Wish I Never Answered: The Whisky Cats, Balloons and Fear & Loathing in the Comedy Tent.

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