So you’re there at the festival and it’s freezing fucking cold. You look around and you realise…these people are idiots. Outside of this environment, they’re the ones who prop up the system, they’re about as far away from alternative thinkers as you can possibly get. They’re bankers, call-centre phone jockeys, estate agents, accountants, clerks, admin assistants, managers, department heads, shopkeepers, insurance tricksters, cellphone hustlers, chemists, liquor store owners, speculators, developers and the worst of them, lawyers. Philandering, misogynist, racist, dull-brained, bigoted, narrow-minded and gathered up into one heaving mass in the name of intoxication, not so much as two independent thoughts to smack together amongst the lot of them. They’re here to get loaded among people just like them, people that speak the same language, people who have the same shifty eyes when it comes to discussing the state of the nation, people who similarly drive like utterly incompetent pillocks in their fuckoff-size four by fours. Pass them by and you get the same defensive scowl that outsiders get when passing through a small and close-knit back-country community, Easy Rider-style. These are the habitual braaiers, the braggarts and liars who crowd a sizzling grill and mutter that the country is going to shit. These are the resistant remnants of a past so recent that they haven’t yet said their goodbyes, and any comment or argument to put them to rights is met with a patronising chuckle because you, with your outlandish ideas, just don’t understand. These are the women who, slit-eyed and unspeaking, stare resolutely ahead when approached by beggars at the stop street, hold their noses in the air when walking into a restaurant, calling to the staff ‘You – excuse me, hello? I need some service here.’ No please, no thank you, just ‘you’. These are the obese parents who wrench their children away from anything that doesn’t fit their narrow version of acceptable. Insular, round-shouldered, ignorant, and utterly happy for the singing of it. They’re the polony eaters, the cream donut bingers; the processed cheese lovers, they’re the ones who laugh at the thought of taking trash to a recycling depot, they’re the proud owners of fast-food brains and mallrat hearts, they are the happily ignorant, and they’re here to stay, because they are the mill's grist.