boringvsfunny

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Metalcamp 2011: The Show Must Go On

As promised, this episode of my Metalcamp blog is X-rated. It contains full nudity and lewd sexual acts, or at least descriptions thereof. When racking my memory for recollections of Monday night one thing stands out. Or actually, doesn’t stand out. And that’s all the cock.

We arrive at the beach bar just in time for the start of the nightly strip tease show. A slender and, it has to be said, very hot looking blond girl is strutting about on a small stage next to the bar and not wasting any time getting her kit off. Except her shoes. Pretty sure she keeps them on.

(Thanks to Adrian Acton, by the way, from whose Facebook I stole this photo of the stripper’s bum without even asking)

Now, I like a naked lady as much as the next man, but I can’t say I’m all that interested in watching the strip show. It’s not that I’m not a perv – I am, and I love strippers as a rule – it’s just that it just seems a bit surplus to requirements at Metalcamp. See, three of the many best things about Metalcamp are that the weather is really hot, that there’s a beach and that there are lots of girls. Exotic European girls many of whom, like the landscape, look like they belong in a fantasy movie (of one kind or another). Some of them even have spikes on their bikinis. I think so anyway. My imagination does tend to get the better of me in the heat.

You get a broad range of girls at Metalcamp, but to my mind there’s definitely a Metalcamp type. Coming from a country where metal fans of both genders tend to be freakish misfits to at least some degree, I can never get over how wholesome, healthy and normal our European metal cousins are. Everywhere you look there are these girls that just look so nice. Then she turns around and across her entire back there’s a huge, explicitly detailed tattoo of Satan ass-fucking a swan on a four poster bed made entirely out of human feet. Left feet. It’s made only of left feet. And the swan is on fire.

Girls like that are what I think of as ‘Metalcamp girls’ because they’re like a living illustration of what, broadly speaking, I love about Metalcamp. It’s a festival of stark contrasts; a pure, wholesome, happy, upbeat, natural, almost innocent celebration of some of the most evil, dark, fucked up, twisted shit imaginable.

I mean, look at Nina…

She might look like a perfectly normal, harmless young lady on the face of it, but I’m telling you she’s evil. She listens to nothing but bands who shriek unintelligibly about horrible things like murdering the Pope’s mum, and baking cakes with the blood of baby panda bears. And burning the cakes on purpose. Then eating them anyway. That’s how evil and hateful those bands are. Same goes for Nina. You know, she performs nightly sacrificial rituals in which she feeds freshly decapitated goats’ heads to a giant cat. She does. And I have proof…

There. How else could this beast have grown to such a size, if Nina hadn’t sold its soul to the Devil on its behalf? You might not be getting that good a sense of scale from this picture, but I swear that cat is the size of a four-year old human child.

Anyway, I digress. Massively. It should at least now be abundantly clear that I spend so much of each hot, sunny Metalcamp day musing over semi-naked girls that I’ve kinda had my fill by the time a couple of completely naked ones take to the beach bar stage during the early hours of the morning. Still, everyone else is watching it, so I do too.

It’s a reasonably entertaining, if slightly uncomfortable, show up to the point where a bloke from the audience is hoisted up onto the stage and quickly undressed by the stripper. Then it gets worse. She starts wanking off his floppy little knob, which flatly refuses to get hard while he just sort of stands there grinning like a pig in shit. A pig with a soft cock in shit. It’s the same story every time they get a bloke up there. But not ‘up’, if you see what I mean. It’s embarrassing and, quite frankly, disappointing. I’m not gay or owt, but if I am going to watch someone else’s cock getting wanked off, I’d like it to be nice and big and hard, thank you.

Then the strip show takes a break for about 15 minutes and, when it starts up again, the music chosen for the occasion is The Show Must Go On by Queen, in possibly the worst misappropriation of a song I’ve ever witnessed. This doesn’t go unnoticed by the majority of the audience who dutifully do their best to forget the tits and fannies, and instead remember Freddie Mercury, ignoring the strippers and singing along, tears in their eyes.

The Show Must Go On was still on the strip show playlist the following night, but notable by its absence for the rest of the week. Someone probably complained. And quite right too.

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