but on a lighter note, the camper van beethoven site: on the far right theres a little squiggly question mark saying “don’t click, count to 5 and reload”. so i did, and it changed the main picture. fine.

then i clicked the squiggly thing, and it split the page into two frames. and again. and…. oh you get the idea. it’s tremendous fun, seeing how many frames you can fit into the same window.

stopped me thinking about fraser logging on in a tube station, anyway….

Sitting in a cafe in downtown Wellington my brother decides he’ll be real funny and lift his butt cheek and aim a fart at his girlfriend – sadly this ‘backfired’ in a major way. the resulting mess meant he had to go to the bathrooms and strip off, throw away his boxer shorts – rinse the inside of his jeans, put them back on and go home in shame. Classy.

I was gagging for a piss. I had to have one sooo badly that I was nearly crying, yet despite the toilet being less than 200 metres away, the density of the crowd prevented even a 100meter/hour velocity.

In fact the crowd was so tightly packed in that non-one could lift their arms above their heads, unless they’d started of with their hands above their heads, in which case they couldn’t get them back down again, no matter how aggressively they tried.

So I’m practically screaming in bladder-wracking agony. The only thing I could possibly do was to undo my zip, pull out the old fella and urinate down the back of the trousers of the bloke stuck in front of me, who was very large and appeared to be a full paid up member of the local neo-nazi squad.

He went mental but couldn’t turn round because of the crowd. He kept shouting “Stop pissing on me, I’m going to fucking kill you, you freak! I’ll kill you! Stop it!”

I kept shouting “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry…” whilst choking back the tears of part enormous physical relief and part terror that I was going to die at the hands of this psycho. Worst thing was, I had been drinking quite a bit, so the act of urination continued for about 45-50 seconds (a long time).

He was quite drenched afterwards and I was slightly annoyed that the front of my jeans was getting wet because of him.

I managed to escape through a daring request to the surrounding fans to lift me onto their heads for a crowd surf. He tried to grab me but only got my shoe.

I spent the rest of the weekend with my left foot in a plastic bag acting as makeshift footwear.

The Chilis would’ve approved of all this though I bet.