Picture from the Gum Ball Facebook

The confessional window slid open. A sombre looking priest sat on the other side.

“What are your sins, my son?” said the priest.

“Well, father, a few days ago I attended a certain gathering.

A gathering called The Gum Ball Festival.

Oh father, I tell you it was a gathering of lost souls, all bound together on their sinful path. And I partook, lord, how I partook in their misgivings.”

“What did you do my son?”

“It was my first time at a camping festival, my innocence blinded me, I knew not what was to come!

I arrived late on Friday night, and after setting up my tent, was lured into the fray by the siren calls of The Beards, a band out of Adelaide who worship facial hair.

I tell you father, everyone was under some spell; a beard-groping orgy broke out, men and women threw themselves at me in the hopes of a stroke of my beard. Even my girlfriend was possessed!

Later that night, howls and groans of bearded folk going at it like animals echoed throughout the tent city that had formed in the bush.”

“Did you indulge in such carnal acts?”

“Yes, father. In my small tent, hips moved and kind words were spoken. We indeed danced the horizontal foxtrot.”

“Hmm, go on.”

“The devil’s drink flowed like a river in that festival. Everyone drank and was merry and sang songs and danced the dance of heathens. I can still recall it all father, a late night activity called the Silent Disco, where everyone wore headphones and danced and sung to music that no one else could hear. A chorus of Bon Jovi cried out through the bush; oh the horror!

So many drinks were had that I resolved to offer my head for a shave by the barber who had set up shop right in the middle of the festival! The nerve they had, father, they even offered massages and facial hair grooming!

Oh father, if only you had been there. A festival of pleasure is ever there was one! But there was not a cry of outrage from anyone, the crowd in attendance were perfectly amicable. Not one fight or mishap, only people, young and old, children and adults, of every colour and creed, all getting along in a spirit of friendship and brotherhood. Terrifying!”

“Indeed. Is that all?”

“Oh I wish it was, father, how I wish there was nothing more to say. But there was not one break from the music, save in the very early hours of the morning, when everyone would stumble back to the tents and sleeping bags, only to rise again for the next day and be welcomed by more music.

And what’s more, a reggae band, calling themselves V Tribe, after working the crowd into a cheering frenzy, brought out a six year old to sing ‘Pass The Dutchie’!

I tell you, father, the crowd had no shame. A running joke had sprung up, with a large line of people standing outside the Happy Herbs stall, asking for ‘Off The Shelf’ herbs, each one being told politely to go away. Even I partook in this heinous act.

Such a state I was in at that festival. A childlike monster had taken hold of me. I shot people with bubble guns while dressed in a Mexican poncho and sombrero. I fought pirate children on a wooden ship planted under a gum tree. I even howled at the moon with a large group of very hairy and very inebriated men while someone with a bongo drum beat out a primordial sound.”

“Indeed. Well, my son, there doesn’t sound like much you need forgiveness for.”

“Oh, I’m not looking for forgiveness father, I’m actually not even Catholic.”

“What? Then why have you come to me?”

“Oh, I just felt guilty because I didn’t even pay for the tickets. I won a double pass through FBi.

In fact, I had such a good time, I can’t wait for the next year to roll around so I can attend the entire three days and see how many more things I’ll confess to!”

The Gum Ball Festival was an FBi Presents gig. To see future gigs we’re presenting and win tickets to sinful experiences of your own, check out the FBi Presents page.

Read more from Daniel Prior