1. Anyone whose granny interned at Vogue.
Or anyone who mocks someone whose granny interned at Vogue. Or anyone who berates people for mocking someone whose granny interned at Vogue.
2. The cultural appropriator.
He’s got a bindi, an American headdress, painted-on Maori tattoos and cowboy boots. This guy is a whirlwind worldwide tour through centuries of oppression, presented with the characteristic sensitivity of a fashion blogger begging for free moisturiser.
3. The guy who wants to tell you about his first Glastonbury.
4. “It’s my first festival.”
Festival virgins should be off having experiences and seeing bands, not wasting their time bagging off with you and probably falling madly in love because oh wow you are so beautiful and what is this little pill will I be OK are you sure because I feel a bit funny I miss my mum I think I have wet myself sorry oh why did I come I knew I shouldn’t have.
5. The VIP.
He’s as corporate as a leaflet in a mortgage advisory centre yet insists he’s “with the band”. How he’s got access to the VIP area is a mystery, but if he doesn’t have a regional accent, there’s every chance he knows someone who knows who knows someone and they’ll all be called Ollie.
6. Anyone called Ollie.
7. Anybody who definitely did not bring wet wipes – at the very least – with them.
8. That guy who’s from the same town as you.
“Hey! That’s so uncanny! Small world. We should meet up and go see The xx together! Yeah, brilliant.” There’s a reason you handed over hundreds of pounds and hauled your cookies all the way to a festival to sleep in a muddy field surrounded by feral revellers and PR people from London. And it certainly wasn’t to hang about with Darryl who was two years above you at school and has a Chinese symbol tattooed on his shoulder blade.
9. Anyone in the silent disco tent.
10. Anyone with a huge 20-feet tall flag.
If this selfish piece of shit doesn’t care that everyone behind him – not to mention everyone at home trying to watch TV – can’t see, then imagine what a dreary, basic, in-and-out fuck he will be.
11. Anyone who has a “festival look”.
12. Whoever you get talking to in the queue on the way in.
It’s like when you’re at university: you spend half your second year trying to ditch the friends you made in your first. Don’t buddy up before you’ve even got started – everyone inside will be way hotter. Promise.
13. The roadie.
He cannot get you access to the band.
14. Anyone in the queue for a corporate-sponsored massage or chillout area or frappuccino.
15. Anyone who’s kissing you just so you’ll lift them onto your shoulders during Kasabian.
16. Anyone in the first 106 rows while Sam Smith is on stage.
17. The guy who brought his wife and baby and has just snuck out to watch Calvin Harris while they’re asleep. This guy is a triple bastard.
18. The guy wearing a really thick sweater and a woolly hat in soaring, searing temperatures.
19. The guy from the pulled pork ciabatta stand.
20. Your friends.
Not even if you’ve always really fancied them.
21. The fancy dress brigade.
Everyone is at a festival to have fun, but is there anything less fun than the enslavement of fancy dress? “But we’re all doing it, Jonty,” they screech at the one person in their group who’s not keen. “Get into the spirit.” You should reward this stupidity by refusing to fuck absolutely any of them. Even Jonty, I’m afraid. He is called Jonty. Get over yourself.