TIME AFTER TIME. One. | Page 9

My Friday morning started off as damp, as expected at Glasto but I wasn’t prepared for the news that was to come in any way shape or form. Especially after checking the polls before falling asleep on my slightly deflated lilo, safe in the knowledge that Farage and his group of merry men hadn’t managed to worm their way into the heads of the majority of the nation with their ill informed garbage or as they would have called it “promises”. I woke up to the sound of the guy in the tent behind us cursing, and rightly so. I mean, at first I thought he had just burnt his sausages on the disposable barbeque but no, he had obviously just seen the results. I immediately reached for my phone, despite promising myself that I would preserve my precious battery at all costs. But in all fairness, this was an emergency. The polls had closed, the votes counted, there it was in black and white glaring back at me. Britain had voted to leave Europe. I wasn’t sure if I was angry, upset, disappointed. In all honestly, I was confused. I scrapped the cup of tea and moved straight onto the Buckfast sitting in the corner of the tent. It was time to see what the hell was going on.

After a morning of trying to piece together the news, we wandered down to the main site. To the sound of Damon Albarn and the Syrian National Orchestra, when we heard

“I have a very heavy heart today. Democracy failed us because it was ill-informed."

– Same Damon, same here.

“I have a very heavy heart today. Democracy failed us because it was ill informed."

LITTLE BRITAIN?