I thought I should share what my friend Toby wrote on a music forum we visit. It makes me laugh so much each time Iread it that I nearly do a little wee..

"Possibly the funniest experience of my life, but a bit long winded.

Back when I was 16, I got the opportunity to go down to Glasto for the first time with some friends. A few car loads were going down, and we decided to make a bit of a convoy of it. On the morning of the festival, my friend Mark pulled out at the last minute for some reason, but said "Oh my Brother wants to go, can you pick him up at Warlingham Green at 2pm?".

No problem we thought, except none of us knew that he had a brother. So, we were waiting on a glorious sunny afternoon at a typically English village green for Mark's brother John. I noticed a rather strange looking guy, probably in his early 40's, wearing tight cut off denim shorts and a sleeveless denim jacket with nothing underneath wandering around the village green looking as if he was being chased by a persistent wasp. He was holding a bottle of whisky in his hand, and to say that he looked out of place in this picturesque scene of English village life was an understatement. A couple of us had spotted him and were beginning to laugh at him.

He then approached our car with some zeal, the stench of alcohol arriving before he did. Up close he resembled something out of a William Blake painting, only without the sense of foreboding and dread, with long, balding matted white hair and an unkempt beard. In the thickest Black country accent he goes "You're Mark's mates aren't you?".

To which my friend Ian, the driver, goes "er..yeah!" foolishly.

"Oh right, Mark said you'd give me a lift to Glastonbury! Can I get in?"

None of us had ever been to Glastonbury. As a 3 day trip beckoned being outdoors all the time, we had brought big rucksacks brimming with stuff to keep out the elements. John had a towel.

He gets in, and shares his whisky around as well his quite incredible B.O.

For 3 hours he's actually quite friendly, and tells us some funny stories, but throughout he keeps repeating "I'm really looking forward to getting back to nature" and slowly but surely annoys us with endless requests for New Model Army on the car stereo.

So, eventually we arrive at Glastonbury after some detours, and by this time it's getting dark. Because we're not paying to get in, one of the convoy decides to park in a field some distance from the site and as such we have to walk a bit to get to the fence. As the rest of the people in our group head off, we get our stuff and my friend Stuart and I find ourselves at the back of a file of people walking off into the darkness. John is behind us.

After about 2 minutes of walking, Stuart inexplicably drops to the floor, clutching his guts laughing. I turn round and John walks past, stark naked except for a pair of Dunlop Greenflash. As he walks past, he says "Alright lads!"

Now, at 34, I would probably find it mildly amusing, but at 16 this was one of the funniest things I'd ever seen. Stuart and I fall about laughing for about 5 minutes.

By the time we had recovered, we had caught up with John. Stuart had got out a flashlight because it was pretty dark, and the route we were taking wasn't particularly straight. As he waved the flashlight back and forth, the beam would often catch the sight of John's scrawny buttocks.

Suddenly, from being in front of us, John disappeared out of sight. We looked around and couldn't see him, or where to go as were following him and the others had disappeared up ahead. We swung the torchlight around and noticed that we'd been walking alongside a fairly deep ditch that was full of brambles and stinging nettles. A low, brummie accent called out almost in monotone, without inflection of pain - "Help, Help I'm stuck in the Brambles"

I nearly pissed myself. The torchbeam found a pair of buttocks sticking out of a huge clump of nettles. Stuart and I laughed so much we couldn't actually breath - holding onto each other as we coughed so much from guffawing. It was utterly hilarious.

We waded into the ditches and hauled him out. Without even so much of a word of thanks, he picked himself up and strode off purposefully towards the site despite the large red patches of nettle stings all over him.

About 5 minutes later we came to the top of a large hill, which had a steep slope muddied by rain the day before. Everyone else had gone down the hill backwards because of the gradient, but not John.

He ran down the hill like a man possessed.

About 5 seconds later we heard a small "eerrk". This in itself set us off laughing, but it was if our comedy gland had shrivelled to nothing.

We slowly made our way down the hill and shone the torch around. At the bottom of the hill was a barb wire fence, with 3 wires. As we shone the beam around, we noticed that the wires were converging...

John had run down the hill and run into the fence, causing the wires to wrap around him in a quite spectacular fashion. And again in that curious monotone brummie pitch "Help, Help I'm stuck in the barb wire" as John, entangled helplessly, just dangled almost in mid-air not even attempting to extricate himself from the predicatement he had found himself in.

I seriously doubt I have ever laughed so much. My friend Stuart has an incredibly infectious laugh, and once he laughed, I really couldn't stop. It was so fucking unreal.

Eventually we untangled him. He had some nasty looking cuts on his back, and yet shrugged them off and carried on towards the site, as if possessed by some higher mission.

Just before getting to the fence, a large hedge had forced others to walk around 50 yards up the path. Not John, as he, like some sort of Druid, walked through it without a care in the world.

The fence was climbed and John rushed off into the melee, not to be seen again.

It was a great festival, but for Stuart and I it had been nothing compared to that glorious halfhour with John. At various points throughout the weekend we would just break out into spontaneous laughter recreating his accent and the utter, unparalleled mirth he had created unwittingly.

We were with the rest of our friends on Sunday afternoon, watching the dubious delights of festival stalwarts Ozric Tentacles in the 2nd field. As we were relaxing, I noticed that there was a slow ripple of people turning their heads towards us going all the way to the front, often pointing. I turned round and John, had materialised behind us, naked and speeding so much that his cock had fully retreated into his bush. Dancing like a hippy he shouted "Alright Lads! Having a good time?" Totally embarrassed but also laughing at the same time, we shuffled uneasily...

John was never heard from again. Apparently he ran off with some Christians."