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As promised here is my reaction to the problem...
It’s three o’ clock in the morning and I’m not sure what just happened. Apparently Glastonbury just sold out. Huh? Cheap Trick’s 'Surrender' is on the stereo next door. I’m scared. But I’m also angry. The Cheap Trick couple are gonna get a nailgun through the side of the head soon enough. But before that I’m gonna personally hunt down every little cuntrag who bought 6 Glastonbury tickets.
The offenders aren’t, as you may think, a bunch of intelligent, corporately sussed, ex Ticketmaster employees out to stake revenge on some misread, post-Naomi Klein wonderland. They are a gaggle of pre-pubescent, sick, yoghurt eating, carpet munching, Radiohead fans who sit on eBaY for too long. They have ‘wacky’ screen names and talk in txt speak while watching too much MTV2. They think they can screw the indie swallowers into paying extortionate prices on their beloved George W. Bush sponsored website. I mean for Christ’s sake, I’d rather sit in a flaming bath of nuclear coals at the Enron headquarters.
Thank fuck for Michael Eavis…
I never thought I’d say that. The bastard. I’ve been shat on sitting in his Mean Fiddler owned farm, eating dead fruit and gnawing at my ankles. But some schmuck had to make a stand. Internet ticket touts are a soulless, life bleeding group of secret Conservative party members. Let’s find them all and hang them up by the string on their oversized hoodies.
“Buy or sell. Buy or sell tickets for (insert band name here)”
That’s how it was done in my day. Darren and Trevor, the loveable barrow boys hawking tickets for twice the price. You ever paid £40 to see a bunch of no hope indie chancers at Brixton Academy? You’ve met them, then, yeah? But alas, why is this any different? It just is alright. They are not a bunch of whiny bespectacled morons who would cyber tout their instant messenger girlfriends if they were real.
Let yourself be known and let the battle begin…
