OK - Good Morning Class, stop fidgeting at the back and will someone please take that compass off Gary before he has someone’s bloody eye out. Are we sitting comfortably? then I’ll begin ... make sure you pay attention as there may be a quiz later!

Firstly I’d like to address a personal issue - people have been commenting recently on my ever expanding waistline so I would like to take this opportunity to tell you all that I have decided to do something about it. I joined an aerobics class! The first time I went I bent, twisted, gyrated, jumped up and down and sweated my bits off for an hour but by the time I got me track suit on the class had finished! Oh well, onwards ...

‘What’s happening in WYSIWYG world?’, I hear you all cry.

Well, we have more new people that have been released into the community and have decided to try and hide their insanity by hanging out with us! We’d like to give a very warm welcome to Valraven, Si, Arkady and Daisy but due to someone not paying the heating bill they’ll have to settle for a cool one.

This September saw us host our annual ‘Goes To Hell’ event at The Watchfield as usual. We must have cocked up on the advertising somewhere as I reckon that some of the adverts said ‘Free Beer’ or something as people came from far, wide, up down and every bloody direction possible to be there. By early Friday evening we were seriously wondering if it was possible to stack the tents to get everyone in!

Music on Friday was supposed to have been supplied by two bands, The Whirlwinds and Third Stone (no one ever said what happened to the first two stones and I thought it impolite to ask), but as always the cock-up pixie decided to pay us a visit - no, not Ken - he was already there, and anyway - he’s a dwarf! The Whirlwinds valiantly decided not to turn up - bloody marvelous! However .... still paying attention? good .... Third Stone calmly informed that they didn’t mind doing two sets to fill the evening. We eagerly agreed and waited for them to soundcheck before kicking off the musical proceedings for the evening. We never expected what was to come... Sweet Jesus those lads can play !!! In a very short space of time the dance floor was full of boogying bodies and they kept them there for the rest of the night. I did feel sorry for poor Lewis, the lead guitarist as his guitar seemed awful slippy and he seemed to have trouble keeping it in front of him. The damn instrument ended up behind his back, over his shoulder and even on top of his head but he managed to play on like a true pro - maybe a dollop of Blu-Tac on the back of it might help? I’ll have to suggest it.

Special mention should go to Paul, the Lighting Wizard for the weekend, as not only did he do a great job of illuminating the bands but he treated us all to his impression of Vesuvius when he decided to pop out for a ciggie and left the smoke machine on full belt ! The whole back room literally disappeared in a puff of smoke but it was a bloody big puff ! He He, marvelous !

Third Stone bought the first night to a great close and it was only then that we realised that some bugger had been on the campsite moving things around - mainly the floor. It seemed to take ages to find the tents so most of us gave up and just fell into a drunken heap in the middle of ‘WYSIWYG village’.

Saturday saw us all up bright and early for a morning jog or to be more precise - legging it across the campsite with a toilet roll under one arm at five in the morning. That local farmhouse cider has a lot to answer for!

The day passed pleasantly in a gentle alcoholic cloud and we then decided that it was awfully foolish of the T Bars to tell us that ‘they had two rally virgins with them’ so plans were laid. Then plans were got back up again and put into action. Both lads were really great and entered wholly into the spirit of the event especially when introduced to Mr. Shaving Foam and his mate Mrs. Flour, we did try to wash it out their hair with Diet Coke but I think we may have made matters worse. Ooops!

Red 8 were the first band on Saturday and they certainly won the crowd over with their set of classic rock covers by bands like Saxon, Judas Priest, Ted Nugent and The Krankies. There’s little that can be said about this band except on the night I introduced them as ‘one of the best covers bands in the South West’ - I was probably right!

I fully intended to give Red 8 the full ‘Fido treatment’ and take the piss mercilessly but in all honesty they were that good - I can’t.

After Red 8 came our legendary raffle. You would have thought that we would have managed to get it right by now but - no. As usual it dragged on for bloody ages and I apologise to all the people that grew beards while they were waiting for us to finish but - you pays yer money you takes yer chance !

It was round about now that things started to get very fuzzy - next band on should have been the Riff Toads but they decided to play games with poor Fido and bought along a mate to form another band with them instead. This bunch of musical hooligans they named Brave Ulysses and proceeded to rock like a box of frogs! They then quickly got rid of one of their members and - Hey Presto! - The Riff Toads appeared! By now it was all too much for me and I quickly declared it time for a medicinal cider. Meanwhile The ‘Toads laid down a solid set of old favourites that kept people dancing way longer than was healthy.

Saturday night on the campsite was a quiet affair and everyone snuggled down peacefully - yeah right! This is ‘Goes To Hell’ we’re talking about!

Ladies, Gentlemen and Those Not Sure, you thought that you were safe this year. You thought you had got away with it. You thought we’d left her at home. No sodding way! Saturday night saw the long awaited appearance of ... Squawking Division!!! Wobbling her way through the tents like a pensioner full of White Lightening, ‘she who shall be heard’ decided that everyone was gonna wake up, and they were gonna wake up now! Pitbull managed to get her under control quite quickly but unfortunatley the madness had already spread and the campsite was already echoing to cries of ‘I’m Spartatus!’, ‘Bollocks’, ‘Good Night John-boy’ and an excellent (but rather worrying) chorus of ‘I’m naked!’ from Valraven.

Thus ended ‘Goes To Hell 4’. Very special thanks to all that turned up, the bands, traders and anyone that was remotely involved for making it such a great weekend. Next year we are moving to a larger site to try and accommodate all the madness - details are on our ‘Events’ page already.

Time for me to run off for a while, hope you all managed to stay awake for the duration. I gotta plan me birthday drinkie session. Don’t suppose anyone bought me a cake did they? I am quite partial to jammy doughnuts. No? Never mind.

See y’all soon, until then .... play nice.