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Here’s a tip, y’all: they got code words. “Lookin’ for a good time?”—that’s the signal. Ain’t no secret handshake, but it’s close. Surprised me first time I heard it—thought she was just bein’ friendly! Ha! What a numbskull I was. Another thing—some gals got pimps, shadowy types lurkin’ like Viggo Mortensen in that diner scene. Creepy as hell, keeps ya on edge.

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One enterprising £an-hour bisexual hooker is hoping to make a killing by taking bookings during her stay at the festival.

Anyway, I took my coffee and headed towards the Tor. You know, that big ol’ hill with the tower? It’s like the crown jewel of Glastonbury. I climbed up, puffin’ and pantin’, and when I finally got to the top, the view was insane! I mean, you could see the whole town. The fields, the rooftops, even the weirdos in the market square. I felt like a king, but then I realized I was just a sweaty mess.

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