So we’re all going to Clockenflap, right? It’s time to brush up on your Clockenkabulary, so you’ll never be without the perfect word for every Clockenstance...
Clockenhipsters: The people who drift from stage to stage, seeking out the least famous artist playing at any given moment. Follow them and you’re sure to end up in a badly composed Lomography exhibit at some point.
Clockenbores: The people who loudly declare that they were at the first Clockenflap when it was just a club night, and these days it’s lost all its soul.
Clockenbeauty: The impossibly gorgeous person you glimpse in the line for a drink once on Friday and spend the rest of the weekend fruitlessly searching for.
Clockenpendulum: Having to sprint across West Kowloon every hour because the acts you want to watch are at opposing ends of the festival grounds.
Clockenmortgage: The amount of money you have to borrow from your bank just to be able to afford a weekend’s worth of tickets, drinks and food tokens. Often leads to...
Clockensmuggling: Strapping bottles of King Robert vodka to yourself under bulky sweaters and striding past security, clinking gently.
Clockeninjury: Massive bleeding gash that you can’t even feel and have no idea how you acquired. Friends keep trying to get you to sit down and wait for first aid, but you keep wandering off, trailing blood.
Clockenkids: Small, impossibly well dressed children who are totally in their element. Where are their parents? Do they even have parents, or were they born of the perfect mix of good tunes and good vibes? Nah. They probably just have cool, delinquent parents.
Clockenswiping: Setting your Tinder radius to 200m so you’re guaranteed to meet someone also at the festival who’s likewise drunk and horny. Often leads to...
Clockenhookup: Furtive, sensitive fumblings in a low bush. You are not being as subtle as you think you are.
Clockeno’clock: The alarm you set to wake you up on Sunday because otherwise you won’t roll out of bed until noon.
Clockenchat The 300 WhatsApp conversations you will have which run as follows:
Clockentastrophe: Missing most of The Libertines because you were throwing up in an amazingly unsanitary portable toilet.
Clockennui: Being so totally over Clockenflap. For the next 363 days, anyway.