HOWZAT

By lunchtime on the second day, the Student will have lost the £10 note and swapped the ruined trainers for a straw hat advertising a tequila brand. He will then survive the rest of the festival on a subsistence diet of polystyrene, grass seed and diesel fumes.

The Birkenstock Massive

Spotted at all the big festivals along the south and east coast, anyone belonging to the Birkenstock Massive is enjoying a few years in the sun between being a Student and part of the Perfect Family. Whole days will be spent sampling ales and smoking hand-rolled cigarettes while seeing as many actual bands as possible, while nights will pass in a blur of late-licence bars and iniquitous night spots. The male of the species is easily spotted, in his rumpled, wine-stained linen, huge sunglasses and hastily grown facial hair. The Perfect Dad looks at him with a startling mixture of pity and envy.

The Topshop Poppet

Having learnt some hard lessons as a Newbie, the Topshop Poppet has graduated to something of a seasoned festival pro, the sort of person for whom Sienna Miller and Kate Moss represent the twin ideals of modern living. Dressed in little more than a pair of Uggs, some cut-off denim and a series of ever more exclusive wristbands, the TP has, very happily, become the sort of festivalgoer who spends the whole weekend in the VIP bar, messing about on a BlackBerry while drinking pints of gassy lager and talking animatedly to American indie-rock drummers and PR wonks.

The Serious Beard

Rarely seen outside Wales and the West Country, the Serious Beard is All About the Music. For him, funfairs and Goan curry and organic ice creams are the stuff of pointless distraction, impediments to be passed on the road to musical nirvana. If the Serious Beard had his way, festivals would consist entirely of Fleet Foxes, the Accidental and Bon Iver, playing one after the other for the entire weekend while a bring’n’buy vinyl fair rages on (quietly) in the background. Nobody would worry about the state of the lavatories and everyone would be able to name the members of Mellow Candle, as well as every Devendra Banhart bootleg.

The M-Emo

They are both Metal and Emo — they are the M-Emo, a slightly mopey-looking deviant of the now rather quaint subgenres of goth and headbanger.

From goth, they have brought the monochromatic look, the dyed hair, the make-up and the woe-is-me frown. From metal, they have acquired a taste for being shouted at for hours on end by tattooed men, some years too old for the shorts they are wearing. The M-Emo should be forgiven most things, because this phase is passed through quickly, then rapidly forgotten. Although entirely harmless in a festival environment, anyone over the age of 19 who is still attempting this look ought to have their whereabouts notified to the police.

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