It was a new day and the boys were travelling up North to Inverness for the annual RockNess music festival.
The boys were all sleeping at the one house so they could get up sharp and make the long trip North in good time.
“Everyone happy they huv everyhin before we shoot aff?”, asked the pack leader Scott.
“Aye, ave got all the essentials I need, ma tent, sleeping bag, survival kit and maste importantly, ma booze!”, replied Big Grant.
“Class, this is gawny be some weekend by the way, just everyone remember that the curfew in Inverness is a bit stricter, we canny have anyone missing it awrite?”, said Scott. The boys, Big Grant, Grant, Big Al, Al and Scotty, all agreed with the pack leader Scott and started to pack the two cars with all the camping essentials and make their way up North.
The two designated drivers were Big Grant and Al. Big Grant drove a 2.5 litre supercharged sports car while Al drove something that could only be described as an old cunt’s motor, Al stood firm that it was more practical for a journey like this.
“Get the tunes oan Al”, said Scotty as he cracked open a can of Fosters at six in the morning.
“I’ve got just the CD for this drive by the way”, said Al and he produced a CD from the side panel of the driver’s door, “road trip”, how cliché.
Al stuck the CD in and the tunes were blaring out of this wee Toyota Auris, and the boys in the car were in top form giving it laldy!
The team in Al’s motor never seen Grant’s motor ince they hit the motorway. Big Grant was something of a boy racer, so any chance he got, he’s going to boot the cars cunt in, and this was a prime opportunity to have a wee bit of fun.
The boys agreed to meet at Perth to stop in for a classy golden arches breakfast, that’s a McDonalds if you never knew already.
Big Al and Big Grant step up first to place an order that was so ridiculous, the McDonalds staff even look disgusted. It was almost a competition between them to see who could eat more.
“Have any of you ever been to Inverness before?”, asked Scotty.
“Nah, I’ve worked aboot 30 miles away fae it in the arsehole of nowhere, so when ye were by with work it was straight to the digs to get steaming and have a wank”, said Big Al.
“It’s just, I’m para about how strict they are with this curfew by the way, I mean, how much different is it up here than doon in Ayrshire?”, said Scotty.
“Everything is different up here by the way, the way they speak, the way they act, I mean who wants to stay this far away fae Glesga?”, said Big Al.
The boys all sat in silence after that, they must have been thinking about the curfew too much.
The boys hoovered down their breakfast and the designated drivers washed it all down with a lovely caramel latte. They head back to the motors and make their way up to Inverness.
They arrived in Inverness, the sign as you enter reads “Welcome to Inverness” with a flashing sign below that read, “Curfew – 20:00PM to 06:00AM, anyone found to break curfew does so at their own risk!”.
“Fuck sake”, said Scotty, already paranoid about the situation, “that’s a lot longer between our curfew in Ayrshire!”.
“Aye, but I don’t want tae be the wan tae find out why!”, replied Al.
“Are our tents cut oot for this by the way? Are we no better sleeping in the motor?”, asked Scotty.
“Tents will be fine mate, calm doon. We’ll no be able to sleep in the motor because that wid mean we’d huv tae leave the campsite and oor ticket only gies us wan admission”, said Al.
“Aye yer right mate, don’t know why am so nervous, never been this far away fae hame before, feel like wan of they hobbits fae Lord of your Ring”, said Scotty.
“Lord of the Rings ye mean?” said Al.
“Aye that’s wit a meant, wit did a say?”, asked Scotty.
“You were talking aboot a porno ya pervert”, replied Al laughing.
They eventually arrived at the festival entrance with all their gear and got through with no fuss. The sun was starting to feel a bit warmer and the boys knew by midday, it was going to be a scorcher.
The campsite was all prepared, tents up, camping chairs out, Bluetooth speaker in the middle with the music blaring and most importantly, all the boys had a cold can in their hand.
They had one hour to kill before the arena entrance opened, so like most group of pals, they reminisce of the good old days at school and playing football for the local boys club. Some of the boys had a great memory bringing up things that others couldn’t quite remember, but the way they told the story it didn’t matter if it was true or absolute horse shit, it was just as entertaining.
The arena opened so the boys made their way in, the crowd was getting larger and the sun was getting hotter by the minute.
It was a long day of drinking, dancing and singing. At 18:00PM, the Friday headline act came on, Plan B, you fucking dancer the boys love Plan B.
He came on stage and quickly addressed the crowd,
“Hello Scotland, how the fuck are you all? I just have a quick reminder to give you all before we get started, I will be finishing at 19:15PM and this will give you mad fuckers plenty of time to get back to your campsite before curfew, be safe, look after one another and enjoy the fucking show!”
It was amazing the boys were loving life, drunk and just full of pure joy, this was up there with one of the best days in their lives.
The show finished, they started making their way back to the campsite, the crowd was emptying in an orderly fashion with a few exceptions.
“I need tae go to the toilets lads, I’ll get ye back at the campsite”, said Big Al, steaming drunk.
“Don’t be daft mate, just take a pish next tae the campsite!”, said Al.
“It’s no a pish a need mate”, replied Big Al.
“Right well, just be quick aboot it then eh? It’s nearly curfew!”, said Scotty.
It was 19:59PM, the boy are all standing at their tent entrance looking down at the toilets for Big Al, still no sign of him.
A loud horn blares from the arena, curfew. The boys all start looking round to each other, looking for some insight to what they should do since Big Al hasn’t retuned, and the panic sets in.
“Fuck fuck fuck, wit dae we dae?”, asks Scotty.
“There isny anything we can dae, we’ve just got tae hope that someone has taken him intae their campsite”, replies the pack leader Scott, then silence fell over the boys.
“LOOK!”, Al points over the horizon, “Whit the fuck is that by the way?!”, said Al, more of a statement than a question.
“Naw man, naw, get in yer tents, that’s it, that’s why there is a stricter curfew!”, said Scotty panicking and he jumps in his tent and quickly seals the double skinned door.
All the boys are in genuine disbelief at what they are witnessing as this black smog approaches them like the sound of a pack of apache helicopters weaving around in a fluid motion.
“Get in yer tents boys, nae fucking aboot, get in now!”, shouts the pack leader Scott.
The boys do as they’re told and get in their tent and seal up their tent’s double skin doors.
The noise from the black smog drew closer and closer and all the boys except for Big AWOL Al are securely in their tents.
The black smog was hitting the side of the tent and the last of the sunlight was casting a shadow on to the tent skin.
“Dae ye see the size of these fuckers? They’re at least five times bigger than the ones at home!”, screams Grant.
The boys were struggling to hear each other speak from the tents, because the buzzing noise was deafening, and then, in synchronized fashion for everyone to hear, the boys all said at once,
“I FUCKING HATE MIDGIES BY THE WAY”