What your choice of festival says about you
Some people just want to dunk themselves into a fuckload of glitter
You love being surrounded by 10,000 15 year olds huffing nos. You only bought tickets because Skepta was headlining but now you’ve found yourself in a tent with North London teenagers using their pocket money to buy balloons. You give moshing a go but there are elbows being swung everywhere, so you take yourself and culturally inappropriate hairstyle to the sidelines and pretend to sing along to grime songs you’ve never heard of.
You have a passion for mud. You also have a passion for queuing. You also have a passion for having your tent approximately 4 hours away from the main stage.
You pretend to be a indie music lover. You actually just love getting fucked up. It’s just a bit embarrassing running into your younger sister’s Year 11 friends whilst off your nut.
A hub for druggos who won’t admit they have a problem. You definitely do have a problem. You have Despicable Me minion decorated pills. You committed to a ferry. Get help.
You’re not better than a field, but you’re better than camping. You’re probably a Londoner who refuses to travel any further than Zone 4. You may have even brought a blanket with you so that your outfit doesn’t get grass stained.
You ventured all the way to Upminster for this. You didn’t realise Greater London was so big, but you carry on. This is the coolest you’ll ever be, you’ve reached your peak.
Just a scatfest full of ketheads. You’ll probably watch people put acid in their eye and talk to trees whilst you also put acid in your eyes and talk to a tree.
One word. Dutty. If you’re not used to the dreaded North then please prepare yourself for mud and Manchurians.
You are only comfortable within the mainstream. You like being in the company of older couples who have gone for a day festival at a last ditch attempt to save their marriage, and to see Ellie Goulding. You’ll probably have a cider and call it a day.
Love Saves the Day
You have severe commitment issues. You want the filth from something like Boomtown but don’t want to suffer through the mad through a whole weekend of camping.
You want to get fucked up but you’re too boring to travel out of London and go anywhere else in the country.
Secret Garden Party
You probably have a superiority complex. Check yourself.
You couldn’t afford Ibiza so you’ve gone to Cheshire instead.
Naive, sweet and fun loving. You’ll be home before midnight, and that’s a late one for you. You’ll probably read some YA fiction in between your favourite artists.