Which side of me will win?

Metalcamp 2012: Screaming myself horse

After a long, luxurious, relaxing afternoon at the river, we return to camp to find our enclosure filling out with new arrivals; some of them friends, some of them friends of friends, some of them friends of friends of friends. I think. They’re all from the same region of Slovenia, Koroška, I think, and more or less vaguely know each other. I’ve met some of them before, including Matic (haha… every time…), who I met at Metal Mania a few weeks previously, but never heard speak.

That day he’d been sat slumped on a camping chair in total silence for several hours, moving only to drink from a bottle of water to his right, or to heave up a mouthful of gooey, biley puke to his left.

He’s in much spritelier form when I pass him assembling his tent at Metalcamp, greeting me with a chirpy, “Aha! We meet again!” I’m immediately struck by his booming, almost operatic voice. I’d never have guessed he could speak like that given the state he was in when we first met. The combination of his voice, his Slovene accent and his theatrical choice of words makes him sound exactly like Dracula or a Bond villain or something. As the week goes on, Matic drinks a lot and says little, but when he does speak it’s usually priceless.

I can’t remember exactly who else had shown up, but let’s just say it was almost everybody and move on to what happened next, which was, of course, drinking!

My recollection of what happened on this evening is, once again, pretty poor, but I do remember this horrific apparition showing up at our camp…

Concealed beneath the horse mask is something even more terrifying – Peter (a.k.a. Paddy, a.k.a. Peewee, a.k.a. several other things). I met Peter at Metalcamp 2010 and we’ve been lovers, on and off, ever since (I can’t resist… he’s hung like a horse!). After grazing in our paddock for an hour or so, he trots off to find pastures new.

The festival still won’t start for another two nights, so tonight’s entertainment comes in the form of waiting for people to pass out, then tormenting them.

First up, Elma falls asleep in her tent, which ought to be safe really, but her exposed feet are cruelly taped together…

Marko is the next to fall, and is subsequently subjected to a makeover…

It quite suits him, to be fair.

Then, having fallen asleep clutching his last beer, Andrej is assisted in holding onto it with a large quantity of tape…

Now, even if he awakes with a start, he won’t spill his beer. Time then, to wake him with a start…

Yes, Anja shot him with a Super Soaker. Poor chap. I’d have felt sorry for him if it hadn’t been so funny. And he didn’t spill the beer either, so it worked. And he drank it, so there’s a happy ending for you.

Then, inevitably perhaps, it’s my turn to pass out. And not even Anja blowing a harmonica directly into my ear can wake me…

On this occasion I’m spared the tape. I guess I’m still a newcomer so they’re having some mercy on me. In fact, when I finally wake up of my own accord, Katarina and Bine are being extremely nice to me. They insist on escorting me back to my tent, despite my insistence that it’s only a few metres away and that I’m really not that drunk.

They bid me goodnight as I enter my canvas abode and there’s a brief silence while I fumble with the torch hanging from the roof of my tent. After a few seconds I switch it on and…


As my shrieking fades away, I hear hysterical laughter from outside my tent. The reason for my shrill cry, and the reason for the laughter, is a horse’s head lying on my bed.

Unbeknownst to me, while I’d been unconscious, Peter had visited our camp, once again in horse form. He too was unable to wake me from my slumber, and so left his horse head in my tent as a little surprise.

It was a damn good gag, I have to say. I especially like it because, unlike some other subsequent pranks, it did not leave me with any long-term physical damage. That’s a sttory I’ll get around to telling… eventually.


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