V Festival and monkeys and, of course, their trousers

This morning we returned from Mr V. Festival. It was my first campy-festival experience, in that I have been to festivals before but only ones in Leicester or Coventry where I've been able to go home to a lovely warm bed and a shower and my penguin pyjamas at the end of the day.

It rained many and much. It was muddy many and much. We paid many and much for food and drink and plastic rain ponchos. We used many and much toilet seats baring ourselves to many visible poos and the smell of much visible (and invisible) poos. But the bands were many and much bloody good and we did "The Festival Dance" (think leg-kicking-in-a-circle like you've seen on the news) many and much. Generally it was many and much good. This is with the exception of Lily Allen who really did embarrass herself many and much, but let's forget her as failing to do so can only hinder the lives of such wonderful people who may choose to read this blog.

There was a bit of a to-do in getting out of the car park, what with Nick's car going to car sleepy land in the mud, but we eventually got home and I had the loveliest, warmest shower that I have ever experienced. It was also nice to walk on the firm, concrete-y floor to the shop round the corner. Ah, concrete. It is so very reliable and non-slippy.

That is all. I still have no internet so I am having to borrow Mr H's computer and may not be back for some time. For the time being I would like to request 1) a new job (£14,000 a year and no corporate bastards would be lovely), 2) an affordable and shiny flat in Wolverhampton and 3) some corduroy slacks fit for simians to dance in as I am planning a funky monkey disco for my future pet monkey and he is currently naked. Thank you.

P.S. I have changed my mind about Mika. He is quite good at playing instruments and has very good taste in trousers. And he provides very good music to back The Festival Dance.