Friday night at Bestival: Watching the XX on the main stage – things were pretty quiet, subdued even.
What I mean is I was bored. Then my neighbour, tall with slicked back hair and a cheeky grin, turned to me and said “I’ve played my card,” through chomps on his gum. “We all get one card, I played mine so they had to watch the XX with me.” He motioned to two friends, also chewing vigorously.
“This is crap,” said one. The other said nothing, distracted by a passing girl he hunched down and tenderly murmured something into her ear. The girl’s joyful expression immediately darkened, “what do you mean I look like your dad?” she squealed.
“I just wish I had a short girl to cuddle, you know?” the first man said, ignoring his mates faux pas and looking at me expectantly.
Just as my boyfriend and I were grabbed and force-hugged into a marginally sexual group sway-cuddle, too surprised to resist, a man leaped onto a nearby bin and lit a flair. In the ensuing excitement we broke away into the crowd – he was our hero.