Trinity (whose nose now doesn't look like it was assaulted by a few irons and an anvil) faces SBC's thigh problem, though luckily for her the black leather hides it or else squeezes some of that flesh back around to where it should be.
At this point we pause to ask ourselves, what sort of audience are the advertisers aiming for? Now, they could have added something slightly more appealing to the depicted sex. The majority of the female population isn't overly fascinated by bimbos. Since the brochure came in a Supré bag and Supré currently stocks the same number of men's clothing items as Holly has nice things to say about me I can only assume that our gender is the target. Oh well, I'm sure some of these monstrosities will be distributed to guys, so at least they'll be able to know what sort of exciting racy chicks they'll be meeting at Helter Skelter. Anyway, with a complete lack of serious interest I open the thing up to confront myself with the venue:
Not only has SBC had breast reduction surgery since the last photo shoot, as well as having her mysterious abdomen line cleaned up and her pants loosened, but she's randomly sprouted a pony tail! Whee! The arena she's trying unsuccessfully to make cool looks...well...not. I've seen cooler venues under my fingernails. Now imagine this AWSUM tin shed packed with sweaty people jumping around like Lil with an octopus in her swimmers. Mmm, can't you feel that salty goodness dripping from the ceiling... By salty goodness I mean the aforementioned sweat. Get your minds out of the gutter, guys.
After acknowledging the utter repulsion that is Helter Skelter's best hall, I was introduced to the collection of totarly kewl DJ's. Finally I'm treated to a picture of a guy. Unfortunately he's British, and we all know that they're all pretty unattractive, except Daniel Macpherson. Meet DJ...hmm, I've forgotten what his name was and I've thrown out the brochure, so let's meet DJ Fuglybrit:
If these peeps had done their homework like I should be right now, they should know that skool needs to be spelt with a backwards k. Like they say, a picture tells a thousand words, and since this one was picked as one of four for the brochure you can tell how desperate they were. Imagine what the rest of them look like.
Sadly for me, the onslaught of 'hot' chicks isn't over, because right next to DJ Fuglybrit is some hoe called Charlotte Birch. Charlotte isn't settling for being just a DJ. Oh no, she doubles as a Lara Croft try-hard touring Agrabah, a...er...weather woman and a filthy dirty skank. Does she actually get around to making music for the masses, or is she too busy screwing them? Of course, I'd like to give her a fair go and say something about how wonderful it is to see women getting out and taking over men's jobs, but must we be represented by...her?
Totally turned off by the DJs on show in the brochure, I clamped on my headphones and pumped out some Spice Girls to rid my mind of the potential horror. Okay, so maybe the music would be crap. Or mindnumblingly painful. Or both...if that makes sense. There's still the chance to meet up with some hot spunky young man (or men!), which always goes with these sorts of things. Logically if they're putting out this sort of advertising the majority of the audience would be male. So here I am, thinking that I could slide on up to Mr. Right and sway with him for a while before sneaking off to sway with him in a different way under the blissful cover of darkness, when I stumble over what it's going to look like in these "WILD" pavillions.
Wow! It looks like a real party in there! I can't wait to be splashed with lasers and smoke! Mad! Let's do the checklist before we assimilate and become immersed in ULTIMATE STUPIDITY! Darkness? Check. Young men? Check. All that's missing here is a bit of realism.
Oh, that's right, they just forgot that there might be epileptics in the masses who could die from all those fancy lasers. Whoops! Well, now that the concert is in perspective it looks pretty crappy. I've been to better Christian rock events. "Hey, I know! Let's drape some cheap metallic material over the stage! Wow, that looks so awesomely futuristic!" Wankers. See the chick at the bottom with some random bloke's arm thrown over her? We have to wonder what they're up to. Either he's drunk, she's a vampire trying to gain access to his neck or she's an innocent bystander and he's an amputee flailing his stump widly. Good one, guys.
Moving on to the final picture, we see the craziness from a different pov, the DJ's. I'm a little empathetic for this particular DJ, because in the front row alone are at least three areas of different crazinesses. Observe:
Let's look first at Subject C, since I like disorder. Disorder it evidently is amongst this close-knit group of friends too! They're letting each other have it like there's no tomorrow. I reckon if this photo had been taken a second later, Greenhead's head would have snapped back out of the frame. Moving to B, we have a few possible scenarios. Either (a)these two are long lost friends who are recoiling in shocked delight to see each other in the middle of a mosh pit, (b)she has REALLY bad breath or (c)he just flashed her and she's laughing at his lack of meat. Hang on, I just noticed something going on below their red circle. Uh oh, it looks like somebody's passed out...or they're getting their next fix. Meh, s'all the same.
