FEATURE: Why I Would Rather Eat My Own Knees than go to Reading Festival

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Better go buy an overpriced disposable camera and take a screen shot of your ticket confirmation email, kids, it’s that time of year again!

It seems the only thing more irritating than the chlamydia-infected, vomit-covered aftermath of Reading Festival is the pre-festival hype strewn across every social networking site in existence. And also in person for the minority of attendees who have found a life off the Internet (you can buy clothes in SHOPS now?! Whaaaa?!).

I’m talking about everyone from the 16-year-old wannabe hipsters who care more about their Facebook likes than their GCSE results, to the UNAY LADZ who’re just hoping to extend their week-long twatfest in ooh-ah-Malia to a muddy field.

Don’t get me wrong, the smaller stages usually have a pretty great lineup. This year The Wonder Years, Jimmy Eat World, Basement, Touche Amore and Letlive. are among the heartbreakingly underrated acts playing the heartbreakingly overrated festival. But how many people will actually make it out of the hormone-fuelled boozefest that is the Reading campsite? And how many of those who do make it without slipping in someone else’s pee on the way will remember them the next morning? To me, it just seems like a waste.

But hey, if you’ve decided to turn straight edge since your last Reading fest, at least you’ll get to see Blink-182, Paramore, Arctic Monkeys and You Me At Six on the main stage this year. And next year. And the year after that. And again in twenty years.


Sophie Pengelly

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