June 29, 2009
I was asked this weekend: "Will you come to Glastonbury with me next year?"
"I would sooner," I replied, "bite off the balls of my own feet, repeatedly lump hammer my gonads, set fire to my hair, ram screwdrivers into my ears, chisel off my kneecaps, force concrete into my arse, and flay my own back with highly heated barbed wire, than spend so much as a single moment even watching the sodding thing on television, never mind spend days watching a load of people I've never heard of, don't like and certainly want to watch or listen, in the company of thousands of bearded gypsies wearing hemp and talking about how it was so much better before it went all commercial, like, man. Does that answer your question?"
"Pretty much. Will you come to Santorini with me for a week at the end of July on a dead cheap flight then?"
"Twist my arm, why don't you."

malakeas
Pro
oooo Santorini will be beautiful. xxx