A personal favourite – The Spewer will get carried away with the romance and freedom of it all, drink and eat way too much too quickly, go quiet and pale for a while, then take to wobbly feet to disappear for a while only to return disheveled and groggy – it is important to check hair and face for chunder residue – administer water and cheap shit bread.
The Crop Duster
Their guts riddle with re-constituted offal, traces of charcoal and warm fizzy beer – they will move through the crowd distributing heinous and eye-wateringly bad silent farts never claiming a single one.
The Messy One
Normally reeling from some kind deep and recent emotional trauma (or they just can’t handle their poison) – they will skirt along the borderline between offensive and obnoxious and will mutter strange dark things into the flicking of the flames. They will also make wild accusations and outlandish sexual propositions… hopefully they will pass out before too long.
Always trying to look after someone is the Do-Gooder. Making sure everyone is warm enough, willing to get stuff from the car, go back to the house and get the matches, nurse the Spewer and ensure the Messy One doesn’t over do it. Annoying but really nice at the same time.
The Handbrake can be seen looking daggers at partners across the flames. Can turn nasty – be vigilant. Ensure they are kept drunk, warm and well fed.
The Lost One
There is always someone lost. Either they can’t find the fire in the dark in the first place, or they wander off (pissed out of their little minds) to have a pee and then they get disorientated.
Never quite gets far enough away for a pee (probably for fear of getting lost) a stray head torch or sudden burst of flames can easily and inadvertently expose their urine soaked genitalia to their peers.
The Beacon refuses to take their head torch off and blinds everyone they talk to. It is perfectly OK to grab said torch, pull it away from their forehead and let it go again – offering swift and effective extra-judicial punishment.
The Clean Up
This is hopefully (although rarely) when the entire cast take a bow at the end of the evening’s performance and all those still compos mentis must clean every morsel of litter, glass and bodily fluid then drag the wounded and unconscious back to base, ready for the next time.
Words and images by Dan Kerins