Why-don't-they-already-exist festivals

1. SwingerFest
10,000 middle-aged ugly people fucking in self
catering chalets in a leisure-park on the outskirts of Doncaster, while
an Eagles covers band play Hotel California 24 hours a day for the
entire event.

2. Blubber-Fest
A Bacchanalian orgy taking place in an Olympic-sized swimming pool
filled with recently harvested seal blubber. In the absence of newly
butchered seals, any amount of liposuction wastage or corpulent
octogenarians will suffice.

3. The annual Mudcraft Gathering
A weekend of mudcrafts, herbal tea and new age bullshit. People come to share their joy of crafting stuff with and in mud, whilst being able to unwind in an atmosphere of nauseating incense, questionable folk music and spiritual enlightenment. The event will culminate in the crowning of Mudcrafter of the Year, a prestigious competition only rivaled by the Crafted in
Mud Excellence awards, now sadly defunct.

4. Testival
Taking place every other Thursday, except in months containing letters, 400 proficient leotard wearers convene in a disused sports hall in East Cheam to examine the contents of one another's knicker arrangements. Prizes are given for size, resonance and texture of pustules.
Once every thousand years, a small tin cup is awarded to the "prettiest scrotum". Since the dawn of time, this has been presented to a disgruntled meerkat named Susan who thought she was queuing for tickets to see a cast of pharoah ants perform Waiting for Godot at Milton Keynes leisure centre.

5. Drunken Landmark Forum
A retreat where people get ploughed with booze and are made to apologise for passing out. Its character building and only £275.

6. Extremely unhelpful self help festival
Basically a two week self help endurance course. After paying £300 quid the festival goers are locked in a portaloo with a photocopied picture of Alistair Darling, a pair of broken pliers and green tea, with the inspirational instruction "You can do it" handwritten on every sheet of toilet paper.

7. Non-Event
Nothing happens anywhere. As normal. What's the point? I mean, honestly?

8. The Fifth Annual Mass Suicide Event 5 (V)
Several Guatemalan gentlemen claim to have attended each of the previous four "Events", giving the impression that they had rather missed the point. They refute this entirely. But they would. Because they can. Because they are not yet dead.

9. The Biannual Smelling a Dead Pigeon Weekend Extravaganza
Enthusiasts flock to Norwich for this much loved biannual affair, in which people go around smelling dead pigeons in various stages of decomposition. There's a choice of Asian or Italian food and entertainment is usually provided by some guy's mate's band called Gynocops. Festival goers, or pidgesniffers as they jovially refer themselves to, are responsible for their own accommodation, although this year the arranger has promised to open up his back garden for campers.

10. Pirate-week festival
Every six months or so Blackburn hold their weekly Pirate festival, or Yaaaaarrrrrz!!, in which the arts of the pirate are celebrated. Deceased pirate legends give free spitting and swashbuckling lessons, there's the try-the-parrot experience and free rum for all sea-worthy
males. Sherry for the women, or brandy, if they're frisky lasses. Yaaaaarrrrrz!! competes with Burnley's Ninja week festival, or NinjaFest, on deserted moors once a year with live weapons to the death.

(Thanks to AB and KK for #s 5 and 6)