The following series and miscellany of images are inspired by a night of hideous rave music and police inaction I suffered a couple of Fridays ago, when a large horde (as opposed to a small horde?) of 'Norfuk Ravrz' descended on my village like a band of Adidas wearing slack-jawed lemmings, for a rave in a farm shed about 900 foot away from my home.
The drug canisters lost a little of their mystique for me when I found out that the gas pellets doubled up as whipped cream gas dispensers. If the cops ever came a-calling, I suppose, this rabble of youths could claim their innocence by holding a makeshift cake stall and stating that they were merely holding a 3am village fete. But I seriously doubt a court jury of 12 men good-and-true would get hoodwinked by it.
There were literally hundreds of these little blighters laying around the shed and adjacent field, so I took a couple as mementos for my lodge 'inspiration drawer', and was about to leave on my electric bike, when I saw a couple of dead rats on their own, still clearly stiffened by the rave boom that rattled their dessicated little skeletons in the early hours of the morning. I couldn't help but mirror them with the culture that inflicted itself upon their fading existences the night before.
p.s. I found the contact details and photographs of the rave organisers on the net a few days later, after a 5 minute search, so decided to add their pictures in the mix too. Riiiiiiight next to the rats.