What’s that? Could it be that notorious figure G.G. Allin had faked his own death and made it to Minehead to defecate on us? Sadly not. Instead the Festival's own TV channel was playing a documentary about him, which we watched while drinking our bedtime cups of cocoa.
As you know, G.G. Allin is the punk rock fellow famous for writing songs about extreme pervertalism and playing concerts where he would masturbate and/or defecate on stage and then throw the fruits of his body into the rapidly thinning audience. The documentary was good at demonstrating how disturbed Allin was. I suppose from the thumbnail description this is hardly surprising, but he did come across more like a severely damaged street person rather than a seriously nasty menace to society. More worrying were perhaps the various G.G. Allin fans who showed up in the programme, there being an air of creepy voyeurism in these ghouls deriving enjoyment from the actions of a man plainly in need of serious psychiatric help.
Allin always said that he was going to end his life by overdosing onstage. However, he accidentally overdosed in private a number of years ago and died away from his public. I went to bed before the film ended, but I got the impression that it was completed before his death, so it probably did not end on a downer.