The pop guide to how to show one’s disapproval
Cher Lloyd was forced to cut short her set at V Festival after a bottle of urine was hurled at her as she performed, saying: 'It's hard enough being up here, but it's not nice having bottles of p**s chucked at you' – quite.
I remember being at Reading Festival when Meat Loaf was bombarded with bottles of urine and stopped to ask: 'You wanna rock and roll, or you wanna throw stuff?' His answer came via a bottle of cider that landed on his face and he stormed off. Before he did Bat Out of Hell, too.
Even though I spent that entire festival completely, utterly and devastatingly drunk (so drunk that I remember thinking The Hothouse Flowers were the most incredible band I'd ever seen until I listened to them back home when I was sober), even I realised that throwing bottles of urine at performers wasn't the way to register one's disapproval of their singing prowess.
The only excuse there is for urinating in a bottle is if you're stuck on a motorway in a huge queue of traffic and your bladder is about to explode. I've done that, albeit inexpertly due to the fact that I am a lady and not a gentleman.
I am constantly annoyed with people for a wide variety of reasons but at no point do I think to squat over a water bottle and launch my own brand of yellow rain at them to let them know I'm irked.
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I mean, I've been sorely tempted, don't get me wrong, but I've held back.
It's been a mercifully long time since I've been to a proper festival – day passes don't count – but as I recall, the beauty of them is the multitude of stages to choose from, meaning that you can flit from stage to stage seeing the acts you like and missing the ones you don't.
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I'd imagine that it's somewhat easier to walk to another part of the festival than it is to untether your genitalia, aim your stream into a bottle and then launch it at whoever is performing on stage.
While I can't claim that I've always behaved perfectly at festivals, any bad behaviour has always been confined to a tent and has never involved any of my waste products. That I can remember, anyway.
No one should have packed up their belongings after V and thought to themselves: 'My festival highlight was throwing a bottle of urine at a 19-year-old woman and making her cry.' That's not a story to share with your grandchildren.
Then again, pop stars don't always help themselves. Nicki Minaj, who looks like a pantomime dame that raps, cancelled her performance at V due to vocal problems. When fans took to Twitter to remonstrate with her decision, she illustrated how a mature artist copes with criticism. 'Eat s*it and die!' she said, 'I was in jeopardy of losing my voice entirely and needing surgery on my vocal chords. If u can't understand that, your mother's a WH*RE.' Beautifully put.
With role models like that, it's no wonder the youth of today are sending forth missiles filled with their own urine: in comparison to suggesting someone consumes faeces and dies and then likening their mother to a prostitute, it's almost restrained.