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Bestival 2015: A Festival with The Dance Off Day 4: The No Pants Dance

The last live day. Coffee laced with vodka anyone? Coconut water and rum? Carlsberg?


I felt we were beginning to clutch at straws…..yummy, thirst quenching straws.


I borrowed some Daisy Dukes from Oopsy-Daisy, the awesome hillbilly duo whom I’m pretty sure were blood relatives and hiding multiple kids in their 99% bed filled tent. I felt in my head I looked like Daisy Duke….if she had been attacked by a dog, rolled in shit for 3 days and had piss holes in the snow for eyes. True hillbilly commitment.


The last day was insane. By the time we arrived for our 2pm slot the Dance-Off word had spread and the dancing got diiirrrrttyyyy.

dance5yabsThe punters staggered in and started daggering from the word go. We were ‘those guys’ at a festival just having a frigging great time. Decorum = 0, fun = 1 million.


We sprinted round with our ‘junk’ and ‘beats’ signs, most got their ‘junk’ and ‘beats’ out on show and everyone gyrated with anyone who was game.


Bigg Boss Yabban DJ-ed. Fuck pants.

We were raucous. Fuck trousers. They are so darn restricting.


And there was a baby! A bloody baby!


And it was with a bittersweet taste we had to say goodbye.

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After us came The Church. An alternative to the conventional Sunday service. I ended up licking a glittery mans nipples and hugging the Berlin Wall. It escalated quite quickly.

Even the torrential rain couldn’t dampen spirits, especially when Harry had hoarded a load of waterproof bin liners in his van. Oh and a massive bottle of Worcester sauce. You know just in case.


So the party continued well into the night. Who knew you could get so down and dirty to Craig David’s DJ set. Apparently they were letting swearing bank robbers in…


Then news spread that at 2am we were to perform again. ‘Entertain the 2.30-3am punters’ we were told. So like any sane group of upstanding individuals after trying to get people dance round the room to dirty dub and failing we, well, took our kit off. I don’t think the hula hoop lady could believe it. She definitely dropped her hoop into the crowd….

Dance-Off moment of the day? When Big Ron’s leather pants split right up the crotch. How he fuck do you split leather dungarees? Oh yea that’s right they were ladies…..And who knew Shotgun Duke could wear so many damn masks and pants at one time. He musta been sweating like a pig. The other contender had no idea what to make of it, stood catching flies at this crazy clothes inception. Mind blown.


So to conclude yes, I may have turned into a chain smoking, beer drinking, hickey loving hillbilly for a few days. Buuut I can safely say those few days may just be some of the best days I have ever had. A truly amazing experience with a group of very talented extraordinary people.


Not only that, of course we had shit loads of fun but the guys are super professional. Everything was cleared how we found it, nothing smashed or broken, everyone involved had the BEST time and we ALWAYS left a bigger crowd then when we arrived. Hitting these criteria = success for the day.


I’m not gonna lie, getting the ferry back on Monday was THE WORST thing ever. Like pushing through a thick film into reality. Damn reality, you bastard.

Sadly it’s the end of the summer season, and it’s time to turn back into a functional member of society. However the guys are always about doing awesome stuff, and I hope they will have Sister Ass-Pan the hippie hillbilly who is willing to take her dungarees off at the drop of a hat and will ‘dance for food’ back again next year.

Until next time Dance-Off. Over and out.



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