Ms “Groovin the Moo”

Groovin the Moo transforms Bunbury from an ice pipe paradise into Jared from Subway’s vision of heaven: scantily clad juvies dressed like they’re no stranger to getting 6 inches down their gullets.

Samanfa is no exception. Her festival attire falls somewhere between “burning man” and “burning discharge”. Her floral crown is accompanied by a completely see-through dress which shows off her lacey underwear that appears to be having a fun day out cannoying in her crevice.

After Snapchatting every hour of her “road trip” to Bunbury the squad arrives at the gates. It is imperative that Samanfa “literally” gets a group photo with “these #10s” to show everyone on Instagram that today is “#goals #af”. Needless to say, the photo is #lit fam.

She uploads the photo to the Gram and unleashes a weapon of yass-destruction:

“GTM with these fucking legends #yass #blessed #bunbury #gtm2017 #festivalbitches #sunsoutbunsout #douth #lit #md #pineappleUDLS #10s #takemeback #coachella”

While cultivating her vibe, Samanfa spots her king sprinting through the crowd. A Bunbury local that puts the “dropped on the head at birth” in dropkick. The pied piper of poorcunts that has managed to wrangle a crew of cretins to charge the fence and boot any security guard’s skull that gets in the way of meeting a potential #kween.

Now, you may consider someone who jumps a fence to a 16+ concert to be a bit of a loser, but don’t judge a book by its cover, because it gets far worse. Samanfa manages to find her king after he exits a portable toilet with the unmistakable hobble of a man who’d just shoved a pill up his kwan.

He eyes off Samanfa, “sup bae?” Oh me gee, he is wearing a homemade singlet. Samanfa blushes in lust, “nice rig bae”. He simply turns around and double thumb points at his back. It’s his Snapchat details with “SEND NUDES” written on the bottom.

Despite being a leftover shit-sandwich in the kitchenette of life, she brings him over to her #squad. Without the need for any prompting, he shows the group the back of his singlet.

They are LITERALLY DYING, someone had better call the Colonel as there is a new zinger master in town.

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