We all love to moan. We are British. Finding fault in everything is our national sport. However the truth is, no matter how hard you look, there is very little, if anything, to criticise about this year’s Damnation Festival (The puddle at the end of the drive may well have been a pain but it was clearly outside of Gav and Paul’s jurisdiction). The snag list from last year's inaugural edition at the BEC arena has been conclusively dealt with. There is not a food queue to be seen, chairs are plentiful, and I am still supping the specially commissioned stout well into Saturday night.

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