I was contemplating taking a look at the “Bent ‘n Bongs” festival in Atherton this Saturday afternoon, as it’s only about an hour on the train from scummy old Blackburn and it’d be about the same distance up for a mate coming from Warrington. A few things have put me off though and instead I’ll be spending the afternoon watching a play in Preston and then hitting a few of the excellent ale pubs down Friargate. The Old Black Bull, the Dog & Partridge and the Brittania all spring to mind for the excellent choice of beers they always have on, and all within 30 seconds of each other. Happy days.

Anyway, what’s stopped me going to this one?

• £5 entry to a four hour session? That’s at the upper end of the scale this year and I don’t like how they force you to take a glass and programme. I’ve got so many festival glasses already that if I die young and they go to empty my house they’ll think I had the early stages of senile hoarding disease. I don’t bloody want any more and would happily have my £2 deposit back. The same goes for the programme… who apart from tickers needs more than one per group? Are they forcing it on you so they can sell it to advertisers better – “we will definitely reach x number of eyes”?
• What’s going on with a three hour break between afternoon and evening sessions? What do they do, grab something to eat and spend the next two hours forming a loosely-knit jazz collective? This put me off because as someone who’d have travelled down for the afternoon session, I’d be forced to leave at 4pm and I’m not going to hang around for three hours just so I can pay another fiver to go back for an hour before my train home.
• Their website has no evidence of glorious MILFs of previous years.

It’s a shame as it looked alright judging by the photo below, but this is really indicative of the way some festivals are going now. They know who they’re appealing to and know they can get away with little tricks to boost the income, but they’ll never know how many people there are out there just like me who looked at the website and just thought “maybe not”.

It's all gone Pete Bong.

Atherton · Beer festival · Beers · Bent and Bongs

Having really enjoyed Manchester’s winter beer festival at the weekend, I’ve spent the afternoon looking over the web to update my calendar of festivals this year. They’re not something I want to do every week and I already have Pendle lined up for the weekend after next, but when I spotted Bristol on the list I felt tempted straight away. I have a mate down there and having been last year, loved the place. Perfect, I thought – a nice weekend jaunt with a few mates in mid-March.

But, hmmm, hang on. Where’s the “times and prices” page so familiar to every other festival website? It’s just a one page affair, a block of black and white. And the system for getting tickets… well, maybe I’ve had a long day in front of the computer, but it took me a good few reads to get my head round what they’re doing. I’m still not quite sure if I’m eligible, or if they even want me to come. There are lots of bold bits about places and times which are pretty meaningless to me. Given that you can only buy them in person I presume this is strictly a local festival for local people – no outsiders, please.

This deeply saddens me as on the evidence of previous years, Bristol beer fest is a honeypot for MILFs.

Women do not do anything more attractive than smile with a pint. Fact.	Thanks to science, we now know females can safely drink ale.
Mmmm... strict but friendly English teacher making you stay behind...	When God invented "phwoar", he was philandering with this woman.

Once again it’s a kick in the teeth for the grim old north. I feel like Kes in a version of Kes where he gets invited down to London to be best mates with a lion-zebra hybrid but when he gets to the zoo it’s had a really awful fire and he can just smell charred raccoon meat, an acrid stench which never quite leaves him for the rest of his life. That’s like me and my MILFs, that. Well stuff you, Bristol, with your elaborate ticketing system and gaudy display of your MILF’s wares. There’s nowt so bad about a bit of black pudding and a nice warm Northern lass.

Rest in peace, Blanche, you quick-witted Northern bastard.

Beer festival · Beers · Bristol · MILF