YOUR GUIDE TO THE COMING TENT-CITY GLAMPING-PALOOZA ON PHILLIP ISLAND
You may already be aware of the tent city the Australian MotoGP Corporation is erecting at the Phillip Island ractrack for the coming Australian round.
I can barely contain my pride at this great undertaking.
It even has a sunset!
Participation in the Tentalicious Extravagnza is not cheap and nor should it be. It is billed as the “ultimate camping getaway at the edge” (though the “edge” of precisely what remains unclear and I’m given to think it can only mean the edge of the cliff above Bass Strait) after all, and it’s clearly foreseen as the best way to “ramp up your MotoGP experience” – presumably to hitherto unheard of levels of un-ramped glee.
So after you fork out 180-odd Aussie drachmas for your ticket, another $110 per day (or so) is what you’ll be pleased to pay for a berth in one of the gorgeous baby-blue spinnakers arrayed for your sheltering pleasure in one of the campgrounds. And so you should be pleased. Just wait until I reveal what wonders are included in the price!
Reminiscent of our Great Government’s internationally acclaimed efforts to succor the poor huddled masses striving to be free in tropical paradises like Manus Island, the Phillip Island Tent Metropolis offers the discerning glamper the following luxuries.
No, it’s not Monaco in the evening, but it’s close.
A pitched tent. Hell, yes! No more will you have to struggle to erect your chap-shit lean-to while encumbered by alcohol. Each tent will doubtlessly be ruthlessly belayed and deeply anchored into the very bedrock of the earth to withstand the Antarctic gales that blow wistfully up from Bass Strait with amusing regularity.
A pre-pitched tent attendant 24/7. Personally, I have always wanted a butler to wait upon me while I enjoy the racing and the post and pre-race festivities. And to escort me to the stunning displays of Target clothing in the Expo pavilion, and to bear my purchases back to my tent. Good work, AGP Corp! Such attentiveness to a gentleman’s needs will not go unnoticed.
Showers, both hot and cold – a superb and doubtlessly invigorating confluence – are only a “short walking distance” from the sites. Because nothing says “I’m clean” like slogging through 500metres of freshly churned mud and grass.
Toilets, are likewise, a short distance away. But after three days, you may wish they were further away. Don’t ask me how I know this.
Access to groceries, booze and take-away food. I’m fairly sure Coles, Aldi, Woolworths and IGA are all erecting their pavilions as I type, and rightly so. There’s nothing like waiting upon steaming, unwashed drunks hauling out their change to buy packets of Minute noodles. Hopefully Maccas, KFC and Subway will also contribute to the experience.
The Champions Café. It has yet to be awarded its Michelin Hat, but I am convinced that is not far away. Do not be surprised if Gordon Ramsey does a guest appearance on the Saturday.
Firewood you have to buy. Well of course you have to buy it. Trees cost money. Burning them cannot and must not be free. People will take advantage otherwise. And there is the butler to carry your woody purchases back to your roaring bonfire.
First Aid on tap. No, not a new craft beer, but wonderful volunteers from the St Johns Ambulance service will be there to render assistance with Betadine, Band-Aids, and hopefully oxygen and Oxycontin if it’s really bad.
Entertainment. I’m hoping the Rollin Stones supported by AC/DC is the go on Friday. But I will settle for Bruce Springsteen.
Excited? How could you not be? The village atmosphere will be unsurpassed, I have no doubt of this.
The splendid awnings in front of your palatial marquee will doubtlessly remind you of the splendour enjoyed by Roman generals, possibly even approaching the luxurious pavilions of Suleiman the Magnificent, peace be upon him, Han and Sovereign of the Sublime House of Osman, Sultan of Sultans, Khan of Khans, Commander of the Faithful, Successor of the Prophet of the Lord of the Universe and Custodian of the Holy Cities of Mecca, Medina and Kourds.
Take our money! Please!
About the Author
Boris is a writer who has contributed to many magazines and websites over the years, edited a couple of those things as well, and written a few books. But his most important contribution is pissing people off. He feels this is his calling in life and something he takes seriously. He also enjoys whiskey, whisky and the way girls dance on tables. And riding motorcycles. He's pretty keen on that, too.
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