Sorted out for E's and designer raingear

Aching muscles and a sore throat. These are symptoms of swine flu, normal flu, the common cold or a hard day's work in the porn industry. Alternatively the same effect can be had by standing around all day, sleeping on a hard surface and shouting too much, and it is this particular route I have chosen to my current weakened state.

Festivals are traditionally a local celebration of culture and identity. It is fitting then that modern festivals in Britain take the worthless into the countryside to trample grass and avoid washing for a weekend while they transform bad lager into urine.

As soon as a festival begins the surrounding fields start their transition into a refugee camp. In our advanced society it is passé to flee genocide, war, starvation, earthquakes or the wrath of a volcano that hasn't seen enough virgins lately. Instead refuge is sought from parents, central heating, hygiene and dress sense. Small clearings are left amongst the vibrantly coloured domes, where waterproof mats, boxes of beer, poorly tuned guitars, fold up chairs and the feckless collect. Soon gangs assemble in these spaces: young men in denial over their sexuality, who in increasing desperation engage in the art of calling each other gay. The loudest cry for help, thinly disguised as a joking accusation, wins, then all return to looking glum and feeling confused, until the next round starts. Any girls present ignore the boys, engrossed in ensuring the integrity of their first day makeup and hairstyling. Squealing, snorting and attention seeking continue long into the night until eventually drunken coma prevails.

As dawn creeps over the campsite the next morning, watching very carefully where it puts its feet, it reveals a fully developed slum, with filth and excrement strewn around the tents. Stray teenagers pick their way through the cans, vomit and empty packets of kettle chips, sniffing for any edible scraps. Inside the tents the leaders of tomorrow wedge their faces into each other's armpits and dribble, while the air quality lies far below the standard set in European legislation for the interior of the colon.

Early-risers don their snorkels and wetsuits to brave the toilets, by now brim full of a mixture of slurry, an unknown black tarry substance and occasionally and horrifyingly, underwear. Later in the morning the rapid response biological and chemical warfare unit arrives to seal the portaloos in cement and bury them ten thousand feet below the surface of the Earth.

The tent city element of the festival is so popular with some that they think nothing of spending the whole festival in the campsite, even though other entertainment is provided and in fact a substantial part of the price of admission.

Those that choose to leave the camp must first carry out the requisite checks; before wandering over to the music area it is vital to ensure one is properly equipped. Pink plastic sunglasses and designer wellington boots are necessary to take part in the rolling prat-fashion show that takes place all day. A t-shirt with something 'clever' someone else thought of written on it, so that the wearer hopes to appear interesting by proxy, is useful but not essential. Actually any covering above the waist at all is non-essential. Newspapers are handy when trying to pass the time ignoring the acts on the stage you have chosen to recline next to. A mobile phone is probably more important than your kidneys: it allows you to find your friends who are also wandering around aimlessly and if it is a good model you can use the video facility to watch the band-playing-right-in-front-of-you on its tiny screen, so that later you can prove to less fortunate friends that you were really there, watching a band on a tiny screen instead of directly, with the unhindered eye. Plus, if your phone is on the intertwat, you can use twitter to instantly inform your friends that you are using twitter and not watching the band.

Once a song you have been ignoring or filtering through low quality mass produced electronics has finished, it is best to show your appreciation by shrieking as if the performance was so astounding that it triggered a primal fight-or-flight response, robbing you of all rationality and muscle control and hence causing you to suddenly expel all air in your lungs and void yourself. As soon as the next song starts, members of the audience should stop screaming and go back to using their phones or talking loudly to the person next to them.

After the festival is over the courteous thing to do is to leave promptly. The farmer wants you off his land so that he can turn it over to more intelligent species, like corn.