Wilderness 2

Hi everyone it’s Jay the intern again! I hope you liked my first blog for Al. I was baking this morning when I got an email from him!!!! “I just wanted to say thanks, you did a great job on your first blog for me.”!!!!  😍🐇🐇 🐱👔 “There is just one thing. I should have been clearer about it. I’m at Wilderness Festival in Oxfordshire, not Wilderness School in Southern Australia.” (Oooops. Ha. Well, if he was PAYING me!!!!!! 🐩) “I also thought perhaps you should read some of my previous blogs just so you have a better handle on my life and writing style.” (🤔🤔 moar wirk OH OK THEN 🐱) “But I’m thrilled you took on this responsibility and when I get back I’ll be sure compensate you for your time and work.” (That sounds weird??!! 😱👑)

So I’m going to read some of his blogs now and Google wilderness festival. Here goes blog number two, in the correct writing style. I hope he’s happier with it.

The world is turning swifter, sharper, twistier. I’m in a hat. It’s filled with stars. Or is it my tent? And Gershon remarks “How does it spin so fast?” He’s homeless. We’ve made friends for today because he wanted an Opal Fruit. Everyone likes Opal Fruits. Particularly Gershon. Or are they Starburst now? I forget.

Today has been about auditions in a field. I didn’t get any parts but I’ll use long words to mitigate the pain. I’m contemplating feet. How they walk. How they dance. How they play. We all have them, these feet. Some of us forget them, but there they are attached to our legs, dangling, looking at us. Mine are covered in calluses. Still they dance though. Still they dance into forever.

Wilderness Festival is happening all around me. David Cameron eats quinoa with an electric giraffe. Yotam Ottolenghi dances in a lake to the sound of an orchestra. Everyone stumbles around from place to place. I stumble with them, connected but separate, some weird observer type twat building a barrier between himself and society and wondering why there’s a barrier.

I saw a tree earlier that looked like a fish. Or something. I had a profound insight about the nature of whatever. Then I switch my tense once more – you couldn’t keep up, I will confuse you utterly in time, and failing that with sesquipadalian excesses. I am a tree!


Wilderness Festival is a bunch of rich hippies in a field in Oxfordshire pretending they’re anarchists before they go back to being bankers. It’s hedge fund managers in a hedge. I’m one of them but I’m not because that’s how I look at everything, difficult bastard that I am. I don’t even pay my intern to write on my behalf. I just send emails and make them read my witterings and mimic them so – what? What am I actually doing in that field in Oxfordshire? I’m probably drunk. Maybe I think I’m in love and someone is going to cook my heart again. It’s hot. Am I in a tent to sleep? Cheapskate, I am. Not even getting a bell tent am I? That’s 500 words. I’m not even getting paid for this. #twatbarclay #wilderness

Hope you liked my blog. I’m baking. Mum says I write well. What do you think? Should Al Barclay pay me for the work I do writing his blog? Is “valuable experience” really that valuable? I don’t even think he’s as famous as he said. On Google it’s like he’s hiding. Dick.

Author: albarclay

This blog is a work of creative writing. Do not mistake it for truth. All opinions are mine and not that of my numerous employers.

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