Tent Shitty

  • Tent Shitty

    Have you ever been to NASS? Probably.

    Have you ever been to the Priddy Folk Festival? Probably not…

    Well we’ve been to both, and next year we are certain to get another good wiff of some hippies!

    Now it all started in 2017 when someone (probably not Cragle) had the bright idea to go camping in the vicinity of extreme teen dreams AKA “The National Adventure Sports Show” without actually stepping a single foot in the gates. The plan was to hit up a selection of parks in Somerset and Dorset with the hope that all the locals would be tucked up in tents leaving the concrete free for us… Well it (almost) worked perfectly the first time so we decided to do it again!

    Welcome to  “Tent Shitty” (take-two)

    Day 1:

    It’s Friday morning and we don’t have work (thank fuck). Mantis, Tibs, some guy called John and I eagerly await the arrival of the other John and his faithful companion Craig (this won’t be the last time). The meeting point of choice is Morrisons, just a stones throw from Totton, or as is scribed in the gate on the opposite side of town “The Gateway to the New Forest”. Anyway, whatever you want to call it this for arguments sake is our “home” and we wanted to escape. We quickly swept the shelves for supplies and headed on the road to location (insert German accent) “ein” on this regretful weekend…

    Now I don’t know if you listen to the news much, but I certainly don’t and that may not have proven to be the best life choice to make when after following the shit directions published on Wheelscape.co.uk Tibs called me up to say he had identified the site of the Novichock poisoning and was due to give his views on ITV news at Ten!

    After a few quips we side stepped the police tape and went searching the World Wide Web for the proper postcode: Southmill Hill, Amesbury, Salisbury, Wiltshire SP4

    First impressions weren’t great as a local booter of the fruits greeted us with a loving smile and the cautionary tale that he had just waxed the big bits…. so after exchanging pleasantry’s we ensured that no more “OG’s” would be on their way and we began putting our wood to good use.

    Now rather than me attempt to give you a pointless description of the park that won’t make any sense, just take a look at pictures online and remember that the low bits of the bowl are about 5ft and it’s pretty fun. In true Tedbury fashion, Tibs was first to lace up his boots and throw down some shapes. He was shortly followed by the rest of the crew in what can only be described as a slow sweaty start to this sorry skateboarding soiree.

    After some of the older gentlemen retired to the sanctity of Mantis’ lair and the vanilla essence had been scraped off of the tall corner, Mark quickly taught it a few things about Mike Smith and our ol’ mate Donald…

    Tibs, Tailblock, Amesbury

    A few hi-fives later we gave everything a wipe down and headed back on the road into the West Country towards our next destination… Cirencester!

    Now if you haven’t been there yet, go! There really is something for everyone including a cubicle to put your poo, and the perfect sized hole to slide your mate’s parasol into so you don’t burn your back.

    It took us a while to get comfortable but we eventually indulged in some of Somerset’s edible offerings including but not exclusive to: Salted Potatoes, Buttered Bread, Fizzy Wizzies and Soggy Biscuits.

    Just as the energy levels began to rise, we eagerly attempted to do all the tricks we forgot to film and didn’t land last year. A feeble grind here, and no flip tricks over there, everyone got on it and explored everything this skate parks (insert another German accent) wunderland had to offer. It’s no surprise Tibs took control of the tail blocks and the camera before handing it back so I could grab a snap of The Mantis’ signature mung-bean plant disaster (something that never fails to demonstrate that “he’s still got it!”)

    A few sweat stains and friendship gains later we circled round the car park (so Craig could catch up) and made our escape towards Chippenham, our campsite for the night.

    Now I don’t know if it was (some of) our aging bodies or the beating from the sun but we put our best intentions aside and decided to stay around the BBQ for the night. A few cold beers, the best chicken wings and a surprise landing from a sailplane quickly passed the time until the first of the weekend’s special guests arrived….

    It's time to play the music,

    It's time to light the lights,

    It's time to stash the meat and put it out of sight.

    It's time to put on make up

    It's time to dress up right

    It's time to raise the curtain because Ranny has arrived!

    Now those of you who don’t know Dave may be interested to know that he is in fact the son of “Barry David Ransom” and often likes to remind everyone of this by rejoicing to (another) song he wrote about his family which unsurprisingly sounds very similar to one of Gary Glitters more favorable festive hits… just slip into his DM’s to find out more.

    Anyway… beer-burger, burger-beer quickly soothed away the aches from the first day and drew in the struggle with Mark’s slingshot.

    Now before you go out and try “shoot-a-can” like they do in all those cooooool Anti-Hero movies then you should know that it’s stupid, senseless and shouldn’t be subscribed to by anyone…

    Those. Cans. Are. WANKERS!


    Steve Bega, Smith, Cirencester.

    Day 2:

    Word of warning, if you want the worst skate park experience of your life type in “Rackvernal Rd” at the start of July*

    This is what we did last year and drove ourselves straight into the bowels of scooter hell. Not the best way to relax with friends and showcase some FS grinds so, to play it safe we decided to sack off the otherwise spectacular Midsomer for something smaller and more secluded… Where we ended up was Calne.

    *It turns out the family fun spectacular better know as the “Midsomer Norton Fayre” was on the following weekend this year so if this article has inspired you to go out and have your own adventure we suggest checking the community trust calendar.

    Rumor has it that this place has been around for some time but recently has seen a re-vamp from the gang at Canvas… So, with some clean cacks and complete disregard for the Calne community guidelines we cracked open some cans and serenaded the neighbors with a selection of Craig’s greatest hits (sorry).

    Unfortunately the parks quirkiness soon drew the beasts from their beds and after battling between the rats and the rays we threw all our shit back in the boot and ventured forth for the afternoon’s entertainment otherwise known as an event I like to call “Hobbits vs. The Lanky Wanker”.

    At first the self proclaimed “Archers On Acid Village” didn’t seem a likely location for such a rowdy battle but instead of being surrounded by burly men in white shirts singing songs about how ”it’s going to come back” we found ourselves sweltering besides hippies, hail bails and tambourines Mr. Tibs kept trying to snatch!

    Anyway with two goals down and no sign of any pilfered percussion coming back to the camp with us we quickly stuffed ourselves full of Johnny’s superb sausages and headed back out to sample more scrumpy and sing songs with some overly excitable, free-thinking stinkers**.

    **Scrap that! The gang got distracted with more soccer while one of us snuck off to go for a shit somewhere that didn’t seem intent on stealing your soul!

    After the final whistle blew (again!) we rambled down the road into the epicenter of all things earthy and began sucking back a selection of ales, apple juices and after dinner deserts, accompanied by a side of supremely sliced cakes, that if you cared to learn more about would require just a little more patience than your angry 43 year old ass could handle (cough).

    Not long after Dean finished stuffing his face the party separated ways and the sun slid back into its bed.

    With youth on our side Ranny and I weren’t quite ready to give up and decided to blissfully barge our way past the bouncers and into what my mind can only recall as being classified as a “Lebanese Circle Jerk”…a twist and a turn hear, a slap and a clap there. This wistful ritual wound to a close after what seemed like an eternity until we eventually slunked off to sleep before any of it could make its way into our “stories”.


    Mantis, Beanplant, Cirencester.

    Day 3:

    Now if I told you we broke a promise to Martin Stiffin to schedule the events for today then I wouldn’t be wrong. If I then told you the morning we broke that promise we would stumble across someone who Martin would salivate at the very sight of, then I would be right! 

    After Mantis finished wiping his bum testing the waters at Pilton we arrived to an empty area in Shepton where perched up at the highest point in the park was world-class athlete and vert sensation Sean Goff!!!

    No one inquired for an autograph but instead stood back and studied his lines before attempting to imitate his ability to attack every obstacle with ease. Soon after a quick exchange of the weekends tales he wondered on his merry way to shout support at the vert nerds competing in front of thousands just a stones throw down the road.

    The end of our adventure is now in sight and with just one stop away, everyone began emptying their tanks and made use of the parks curvaceous nature. Tibs was quick to put every limb to good use on the tallest wall whilst Dean cleaned up his act (and the platforms) with his eclectic selection of sweeper variations. As the clock ticked on Craig and Jonny arrived precisely on time to pick up Ranny’s remains after he disregarded all the warning signs that clearly dictated…

    “To remain in one piece you must keep both feet inside the ride at all times!”

    Something you would expect a seasoned fairground enthusiast to understand but no. Anyway as a group we soothed his wounds and wound our way back east via the small Blackmore Vale town of Gillingham.

    Despite being positioned in a field perfect for all the fun a family could have, our final destination appeared surprisingly quiet. None of us could figure out if it was again the lack of shade that was keeping the kids at bay or the stench of Stiffin’s shorts!? Either way it made for a great way to spend our final hours, and even though each of us had just about had about enough of the great outdoors I know everyone involved would jump at the chance to get back in the van and go at it all over again.

    Don’t sit still. Go skateboarding!

    The Dude Club

    P.S. Sorry Marc we didn’t plan this intentionally so you couldn’t make it, we’ll make it up to you…

    PHOTOS & WORDS:

    All Béga apart from “Barefoot” by Tibs

    CREW:

    Mark “Tibs” Tidbury: #tibstagram

    Steve Béga: @begamax

    Dean “The Mantis” Lawrence: @concretemantis

    David Barry “Ranny” Ransom @rannyransom

    Johnny Harrison: @jjs_skateshop

    Craig “Cragle” Pollock: @cragle84

    John ???: @johndean84

    Martin “Stiffin” Stiffin: #stiffin


    Ranny, Back Smith, Gillingham.

    Johnny Harrison, Front Rock, Amesbury.