A music festival's fine and dandy when there's brilliant bands on, but the difference between a good fest and a great fest is what you do in the down time - when all the bands are shite power metal "wank wizards" (as Barbour would call 'em), you've got to innovate and have a little campsite fun.
At Bloodstock '08 we cured the boredom with a tarpaulin of all things.
This is one of our better efforts:
This attempt wasn't quite so successful, resulting in a dislocated shoulder and a trip to the First Aid tent:
The paramedics soon appeared and politely asked us to stop as they were "running out of ambulances". Barbour suggested taxis, and we continued. This poor fella clearly wasn't a fan of his time spent mid-air:
At the top, he decided he wants off - and at the bottom, he scrambled like a half-eaten zebra escaping the jaws of a lion. Big wimp.
Last but definitely not least, gravity said "No" to this fat bastard:
Suffice to say that the next time we go camping, a tarpaulin will be up there with loo roll on the packing essentials list.