MY first time at Glastonbury has opened my eyes. I believe it offers a blueprint for a society that is more equal, free of prejudice, and your parents aren’t hassling you all the time.
It’s no exaggeration to say Glastonbury is the ultimate utopia, and I don’t see why you couldn’t scale it up so that everywhere in Britain is like this. We’d all live in eco-yurts and the economy would be based on sustainable industries like bead shops, meditation workshops and shamanic drum-making.
You wouldn’t have to cook because all the food would come from stalls and everyone could spend their time being creative. I gave it loads of thought last night when I was smoking weed and listening to dub reggae, and it seemed pretty doable to me.
But there is one thing standing in the way of this perfect society: my parents.
Not them personally, there’s only two of them, but people like them, trapped in a petty bourgeois suburban mindset where all they care about is paying the mortgage and trying to turn you into a mindless cog in the capitalist machine by suggesting you get a summer job at Homebase.
They don’t get the Glastonbury ethos at all. When my dad was dropping me off at the station he said: ‘Four nights of sleeping in a field for the privilege of seeing Rod bloody Stewart? Better you than me!’
This sort of closed-minded attitude would have no place in our brave new world, so I think it would be best to exclude my parents. I’m not suggesting doing anything terrible to them, just some sort of internment camp.
Then we can get on with building a society based on values like tolerance, anti-racism and veganism which the British public hold so dear. All I have to do now is work out what we’d do for money.
I’d love to talk more about my vision of a better future totally unlike anything that has gone before, but I’ve got to see Supergrass.
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