Mr & Ms Splendour in the Grass

Ben & Celeste’s Instagram bios are wankier than a boarding dorm after lights out. They claim they need your help to send them to Byron Bay to use their “influence” to make a “powerful statement about poverty”.

In reality, they set up a GoFundMe so they can get as cooked as 4am cheese sausage left in the bain marie.

Flights to the Gold Coast: $1600, campervan rental: $1300, Ticket to Splendour in the Grass: $800, setting up a GoFundMe to pay for your pinga pilgrimage: priceless.

Infuriatingly, the pair raised their goal and fly to the Gold Coast a few days earlier. They pose next to their “humble chariot” (the most expensive campervan available for hire) and blog about “understanding what it’s like to not have a home, to be a rolling stone”. Ughhh.

They pass through a little town and Celeste jumps out and gets Ben to photograph her holding a “FREE HUGS” sign. This act of universal acceptance hits a snag when a crusty vagrant catches Celeste unaware and plants a big ol’ hug on her. Celeste flees into the van. Universal love is for attractive people for Christ’s sake.

As they leave, Ben’s video camera is still rolling and captures Celeste hysterically screaming for homeless people to be culled as she rubs down her entire body in hand sanitiser. “Line them up I’ll pull the first trigger babes, sah gross, not cool”.

The self-professed “gypsies” arrive at Splendour in their get ups. Celeste is dressed like Jenny from Forrest Gump if she had glittery braids and an Indian head dot.

Whereas Ben simply looks like he’d surf your sister’s couch for a month and only pay her with a shit love song and a case of the incurable gonorrhoea superbug.

They upload a ton of photos of them waffling on about their “tribe” and within a couple of hours, they are in the depths of a particular smacky Ket & MD bender. They decide to test their “deep soulmate connection” with a bit of group sex.

Well, 30 minutes into the freak-fest, Ben has a few realisations. Firstly, he is way too farked to get it up, and secondly, it’s not much fun to watch your misso get ploughed by 3 scene-kids while a hottie stares at your flaccid inadequacy with pity.

The slow cooker of resentment begins simmering and the sinew of their relationship begin pulling apart with each little post-freak-fest glance they give each other.

After 3 days, they are coming down faster than an Air Asia plane and are decidedly less spiritual. They begin complaining about living in a van, which after the first night is stickier than a priest’s robe after watching Home Alone.

The mood is tense and Celeste drops a bombshell, “you really don’t understand my vibe babes”. Ooo too soon.

In retaliation, Ben uploads the footage of Celeste calling for the Hobo-caust, which if we are being critical, is probably at odds with the new-age hippie, love everyone, raise awareness of the disadvantaged plate of shit she tried to feed you before.

Documenting the Human Zoo is thirsty work, so if you enjoyed what you read how about buying Belle a beer, ay?


Art by @shakeyjakey11