Crap Sunday licensing laws saw us back on site early after a pub breakfast, a quick trip to an off-licence then tucking into a fresh slab of lager, before heading in to see the very best band of the weekend by a country mile - the Supersuckers. Well worth 85 quid of anyone's money. Even the rain didn't matter while they were playing.
We then took a quick trip to the comedy stage before Daphne and Celeste, who braved a hail of piss-filled bottles to do two songs before legging it. Brave girls, and good on 'em for daring to do it, even if they didn't venture near the front of the stage.
Dan and Quayley went into Caversham for a proper sit-down meal, like grown-ups, and ended up in a pub, with beer in proper glasses not paper cups or warm out of cans.
But they missed most of Slipknot, whose thundering racket a welcome change from the sad indie shite, but they made the mistake of talking, Bon Jovi-style, between songs, ruining the effect of the fright-masks and menace.
|Click on pics to see 'em bigger|
|The crowd give the finger to the Supersuckers. The band said it would remind them of home...|
|Marico gets all shy and retiring on us. That or Wigg has his sarong on again||Another lazy Sunday afternoon. It's a wonder that Wigg saw any bands at all||When you feel like this, Kev, only more lager will do. Go on, you know you want one...|
|And that was it for most of us. Not being fans of Rage Against the Machine, Placebo or the Stereophonics, we went back for a nice, warming fire and more refreshing lager.
The lightweights, however, crashed very early - 9pm in Wigg's case, leaving the rest of us with William the security man, who stumbled, very pissed, into the circle of tents. He slumped on the ground, blagged a can and mumbled incoherently for an hour or so before passing out. With his hand down his trousers. We couldn't wake him up, so we left him on the ground to sleep it off.
The weekend was soured when Wigg woke early on Monday to find he'd been burgled while asleep, losing his cash and train ticket. And almost his trousers, too, which were on top of a nearby tent. The thieving scum had taken a look in most of our tents, too, but Wigg was the unfortunate victim.
And that wraps it up for up Reading 2000. See you all in 2001... mine's a lager.
|Hard to believe, but Quayley was on the wagon before Reading... luckily, it seemed to ba a wagon full of lager. What will your doctor say, Quayley?||Wigg fulfills some bizarre sexual fantasy by pissing into a lady's shoe. Of course, this sort of thing usually requires the lady to be present...||Either Marico really ought to give up smoking or an object lesson on the perils of Vince Power's bags of soggy wood|
|William the security man. With security like this we could all sleep safe in our tents. Right up until the moment Wigg got burgled. What a fine job you were doing, William|
|Top Quotes from Reading 2000
"I curled out a log, but the bog was backed-up so high that when I went to wipe my arse I put my fingers in the shit."
Dan, on the state of the Portaloos, Sunday morning
"Fantastic! Grown-ups playing rock 'n' roll."
"It's called 'Sharon's Cardigan'"
| "If you don't like our hillbilly sound, you can fuck off."
Hank Williams III, on stage
"It's what Phil [Lynott] would have wanted."
"It's getting brighter over there."
"I think I understand now, but I don't want to."