MEMBERS ONLY: THE HISTORY OF THE FARMYARD PARTY

1987 to 2020…err, well, hopefully

So here I am laid on my settee watching Netflix eating an Easter egg that’s perched on my chest and its week four of corona virus lock-down.

I hadn’t thought that the lack of something to do’d bothered me too much, seeing what was happening on Facebook with people arguing over the most inane first world problems, and trying to keep out of that (it’s easy… although trying to keep out of the fridge’s a battle I’m losing). Like most of the country, I’m on an enforced furlough from my job of putting on bike rallies for the Yorkshire MAG company Magic Action Promotions, or MAP as it’s known by most. As I’m laid eating the Easter Egg id bought for someone else, but thought if I can’t get it to them I might as well eat it, Nik texts me and asks me if I can write a history of the Farmyard Party! Something to do at last – I can do something that doesn’t include eating or arguing with my microwave… look, I’ve been locked down for four weeks, and I’m sick of its self-centred dinging.

So here we are in 2020, and we don’t know for certain if the Farmyard’ll be on this year due to the lock-down. This year’d be the Farmyard’s 34^th – the first was back in 1987, and was the successor to the parties held to support the Hull helmet demos put on by East Yorkshire MAG in a farmer’s field near the village of Dunswell between Beverley and Hull. East Yorkshire MAG was formed by a group of friends, and met in a pub called the Cattle Market in Beverley around 1978. The main inspiration behind the group, and the rallies, was a chap called Rob Glenton. Most, if not all, the members at that time had British bikes, and I think it’s fair to say they all aspired to buy and ride Harleys. My first impression of the group was that they were anti-Japanese bike, and bigots towards anyone who rode anything from Japan. I first joined MAG in 1984, but kept away from their meetings due to this impression more than anything else. As you’ll read, things change, and people move on, and this more than anything else in the history of the Farmyard’s kept it going through natural disasters, and internal and external feuding.

The first parties held by East Yorkshire MAG, if compared to what the Farmyard is now, were relatively simple affairs – a marquee, some music, quite a lot of beer, and a bonfire. They had no name as such, and were put on to give the people who’d travelled to the helmet demos somewhere to have some beers, and a bit of a dance, sleep it off, and ride home the next day. The first demo and party were in 1982, and this was followed by another one in ’84, and whilst organising the third one, in 1987, the farmer who owned the land pulled out within a couple of weeks of the demo. Whilst the usual ‘shall we cancel?’ or ‘shall we just have the demo and no camping?’ or ‘shall we find another field?’ debates went on, a lad called Mick Kelly came up with an idea to approach a friend who had a farm near Foxholes village. The farm, called Cat Babbleton Farm, was between the two villages of Foxholes and Ganton in North Yorkshire, and the location was, in terms of a location of a camping place to a demo, was quite far from Hull, but it was a chance to carry on as normal. Rob, with his artistic flare, asked to do advertising, and promote the new venue as a plus rather than a hasty alternative.

The first Farmyard Party then was born on the third weekend of June 1987, and around 300 people attended. It was held in a farm stackyard that’d been cleared of farm machinery only on the Friday morning, and the camping was down in an idyllic dale with what was described by many as a terrifying chalk track down a very steep hill. All these things became synonymous with the Farmyard – the location, the stackyard, the camping, and the chalk hill. There was also an attitude of ‘you can do anything you want if it doesn’t upset someone else’. These were heady days; no licences, no health ‘n’ safety, no worries of sprained ankles on uneven ground, no consideration given to someone suing you as it just wouldn’t happen! As for insurance, it wasn’t even a consideration. There was a bonfire in the stackyard as people partied and drank themselves in to oblivion, and a Honda CG 125 that’d been donated was drained of oil, and the throttle pulled back until it seized, and then it was thrown on the bonfire. A mad time indeed!

The second Farmyard doubled in size with around 600 attending – the legend’d spread like wildfire. It was still a relatively simple affair, compared to what other bigger rallies were doing – no marquees or big custom shows, just a party to entertain people after the demo. It got wilder, and bands were introduced to accompany Gav Murdock and Paul Fathead Kelsey who spun the discs on the dodgy disco. A car was donated (I think it was a Hillman Avenger), and was to be a party piece at the 1989 Farmyard – the petrol tank was taken out, and a bike tank put in its place, and at the height of the Saturday night festivities it was driven into the centre of the yard, the oil dropped out, and revved until it went bang! It then met its end being kicked and attacked with rocks or anything to hand, and I remember watching the vengeance of the crowd that’d turned into an angry mob kicking the absolute shit out of the car and trying to set it on fire. The stackyard was full of people, and our ‘live and let live’ attitude was taken over by ‘fuck me, someone’s going to get hurt here’ and so it was towed out and left to die in peace, much to the annoyance of the angry mob. 

Rob took a back seat in 1990 as he had plans to emigrate to Australia, and a good number of the original East Yorkshire MAG members’d moved on, but with the beginning of Hull MAG, and a new set of members who rode every type of bike going, the group had a rebirth, along with an enthusiastic membership that wanted the Farmyard to expand. A lad called Tim Ollet took over as the main organiser over the next few years, and it appeared we’d created a monster. The bar got a licence, and was taken over by the farmer who used two big grain storage barns to host it, and East Yorkshire MAG built in some permanent toilets both at the party area near the stackyard and down in the camping dale.

The rally was gaining in popularity, mainly through word of mouth as advertising was minimal, and people kept coming to the point the dale was full, and a field left to grass at the top of the hill had to be used too  because the numbers demanded it, and we had made the decision to let the actual demo go to Scarborough MAG, who ran it from Olivers Mount, due to the workload.

In 1993 the East Yorkshire MAG group imploded due to a histoire d’ amour in the group! Two factions had massive arguments – it was a horrible time, very nasty, and very personal. Tim’d enough of organising it, and walked away, and a girl called Judith took over for what was to be the last Farmyard Party run by East Yorkshire MAG in 1994. It was the eighth Farmyard, and it was run by  just a handful of members, but a very big turnout of customers (if I remember correctly about 3800 turned up), and it nearly killed the small number of members setting up and running the party. The writing seemed to be on the wall – the stresses and strains, a greedy farmer who was getting to be the tail wagging the dog, constant pressure from various corners of biking about back patches/cars/vans/pedestrians/excuses, internal wrangling about liability and people getting sued if there was an accident, and licences (as we were now on the radar for council, police and what seemed anyone who wanted to gripe about us) was in the end too much for what amounted to a few like-minded people wanting to put a party on to raise money for the Motorcycle Action Group (which it had done in spades).

With the much needed funds the Farmyard had raised in mind, and the fact those people who were left organising it still wanted to do it, but were hesitant because of all the things mentioned above, a lad called Giggling Bill had the idea to gift the party to MAP, the company set up by Yorkshire MAG to run the MAG 21^st party at Duncombe Park back in 1993. The meeting was arranged, and the deal was struck, and in 1995 MAP ran the ninth Farmyard at Car Babbleton Farm, and it was huge. Unfortunately, the farmer’d got even greedier, and wanted more money, and was letting anyone use the land and set-up for his own personal gain. MAP needed a new site to cope with the size, and to be rid of the farmer.

During the build-up of the MAG 21^st party Duncombe Park someone suggested we go look down the dale where the river Rye ran as it was idyllic, and would make a great rally site. With the hunt for a new site on this was one of the first ports of call. A number of different sites were viewed, and a good number of them were interested in putting the party on their land, but Duncombe Park came back with ‘yes you can put it on down in the dale as long as the people of Helmsley are not inconvenienced.’

Game on, but on a different level – definitely more in the public eye, more interest from the authorities, licences to be had, paperwork to be filled in. This was a green field event; there was nothing at all, no power, water, cover from the elements and, above all, no farm and no yard! It was a whole new ball game.

The first Farmyard Party down the dale was an instant hit! We had a new venue, in the new venue – a laid-back Blues tent, and also a custom show, and an outside main stage. The new site was a hit, the river Rye running alongside the party was a hit, and Helmsley town was a hit! And that was our downfall; our wonderful customers loved the chocolate box lid picturesque town square of Helmsley, the pubs, the cafés and eateries, the whole thing. Unfortunately, the townsfolk of Helmsley didn’t love them… actually, that’s not entirely true, it was only some of the towns folk – the NIMBYs (Not In My Back Yard) who’d retired to Helmsley but…  After all our hard work, and even with it being such a big hit, we were back to the drawing board – the hunt was back on for a permanent site for the party in 1997.

Castle Howard, between Malton and Helmsley, held the tenth Farmyard – a whole new site to sort out along, and one with a residential caravan site that Castle Howard owned in very close proximity. What could possibly go wrong? Well, besides it being the wettest party yet, we had the great idea of introducing the first year of dance music at the site (with caravan residents in close proximity). With a big main stage, a blues tent that turned into a dance tent at 10pm, and a custom show, things where getting to be a bit like what you expect today (and this was 23 years ago remember!), but the rain was unforgiving, and the place was sodden – by far the worst I’d seen in a long time. The main stage was leaking, and the stage lads were panicking about the equipment, but the dance tent was a huge hit! Okay, so that’s not entirely true – it was a huge hit with a lot of bikers, but also very controversial with a lot of bikers too, but not as controversial as it was with the caravan residents who were, to say the least, a tad upperty. One complained that all the ornaments in his caravan’d fallen off the shelves and landed on him whilst he lay in bed getting gently rocked to sleep by the pounding base speakers. We left Castle Howard with a cheery ‘good-bye, don’t f**king come back!’

As we hurtled into 1998 with no site, we were at a bit of a loss as to what to do. We were running out of options regarding sites big enough, or willing, to take us on, along with the fact we wouldn’t get exactly the best recommendation from our last landlord – the future looked bleak. Then there was an unexpected ‘phone call from Lord Feathersham at Duncombe Park who said that he’d had a deputation from the local chamber of commerce about the loss of revenue to Helmsley after the Farmyard’d moved to Castle Howard, and asked would we consider coming back? ‘Well’, we said ‘let’s think about it’, and we did for – about a nano second, then we said ‘yes’, and bang! We were back in the game!

We managed a couple of years with no internal or external turbulence, and we had happy customers, and a happy Helmsley, then foot and mouth struck the UK in 2001. What a nightmare that was! Events were cancelled up and down the UK, some were postponed, and some went bust, and this included bike rallies – anything that was held on farmland. It was difficult to know what to do, and finding a venue that’d have us proved difficult. Our date of the third weekend in June was the only date the Rock & Blues, normally held in July in Derbyshire, could get at Castle Donington, and they wanted to go ahead on that date, and as it’d’ve been pointless to have two of the larger bike rallies on the same weekend, we agreed to swap weekends and hold ours at the end of July on what was, traditionally, the Rock & Blues weekend. The showground at Pickering was happy to have us, and despite Government restrictions, the Farmyard took place on a scorching hot weekend.

It wasn’t only the weather that was hotting up though – the feeling amongst Yorkshire MAG and its members on how the Farmyard was being run, its accounting, and pretty much everything in general seemed to be at odds. After months of falling out with each other, two factions remained, and at the MAP company AGM this all accumulated into what became known as the Battle of Boroughbridge in October 2001. I don’t think this was anyone’s finest hour, to be honest, and whilst a number of people went their separate ways, some people were very hurt by what went on, and what was said, and I know to this day that some people haven’t got over all of the upset nearly twenty years on.

2002 saw a new team organising, and new strategy to keep the Yorkshire members updated and inputting into the Farmyard, and we moved on to happier times. Between 2002 and 2005 we introduce a number of things at the party (like a BSH tent alongside the Blues tent, and the Dance tent), and things are running smoothly. We seemed to’ve cracked it as far as fall-outs are concerned; the bikers who attended were all happy, and the numbers were stable so we were always able to pay the bills. It’s not that we didn’t have people coming and going, or troubles with contractors providing services, but on the whole things were running as smoothly as they could be with a lot of people involved, and a lot of organising to be done. We found ourselves able to jump through all the hoops that the authorities gave us in this time of Health & Safety madness, and event licencing was getting more and more stringent year on year, but we just kept overcoming things, and putting on a great party. Well, what would we do if we were not thrown the odd challenge or two, eh?

Then, 2005 – the year most people associate with the Farmyard Party; the year we became internationally famous (or perhaps infamous). That was the year of the Farmyard flood, and what a laugh that was – NOT. I’ve heard so much about the flood from people who just missed it, or who’d just left the party when it hit the site (and some who said they were in it, but I know they weren’t) in the fifteen years since it happened. I must’ve heard them a thousand and one times, but the reality is that there were only about 60 people left on-site to clear up. The rain that poured down in North Yorkshire, after three weeks of sunshine (the weekend weather was wonderful) was torrential – tropical rain, it’s been described as, and I guess that’s about right as I’ve never been to the tropics and I’ve never seen rain like it. It didn’t rain for that long, but what rain we had! It stopped about 5.30pm, and we went to the pub for tea leaving a sodden site, and a couple of people looking after the equipment down in the dale. Around 8pm, though, I got a phone call saying the river was near the top of the banks (about ten feet higher than when we left), and so we rushed back on-site to find the water’d breached the banks, and was rising fast, and we set about getting as many bikes off as we could. The water rose that fast it caught a number of people out, and they were stuck and helicopters had winch them to safety; we lost pretty much everything we owned; those left on-site lost bikes, tents, and personal possessions, but at least nobody died. A great effort was made to clear the mess when the water subsided, and lots of volunteers came to put things right, removing lots of rubbish left in the wake of the flood. Most bikes were insured, but personal equipment and clothing weren’t, but the blessed bikers of the nation all pulled together and fundraised for everyone who was down there clearing up and marshalling, and over £20k was raised to help the marshals buy replacement tents, sleeping bags etc. It was a valiant effort by everyone concerned, and something I’ll never forget as long as I live (although that actual night is something I’d rather forget).

After the flood we were left with no site again, as the dale at Duncombe Park’d never again have the number of people camping in it that we had over that weekend – if my memory serves me, it was just under 6,000 people. So, what to do now? We looked at a lot of sites, and we had a hard decision to make on how the Farmyard was to proceed. Some people said it’d never be the same as in the dale (no shit, Sherlock), but quirky sites with difficult access next to river banks are a risk we didn’t think we could take again, and we needed to keep the essence of the Farmyard going. We didn’t want a clinical site layout – we still wanted to have campfires, and a quirky look to the party. We were offered the top fields at Duncombe Park, called the Park Plain, but the last thing we wanted was something that was plain so we made a site with different streets, made up of traders and caterers, with different venues like the Main Arena, Blues Tent, BSH Tent, Dance Tent, and the all-new Crusties Bar on them. We hoped for, and I believe we got, a different vibe down each street. We laid the site out so that all the vehicles servicing the bars/toilets/caterers/litter etc. could travel about, getting on with their jobs, without driving down the streets, by going around the perimeter, and we opened two different campsites, one with campfires and one without. I feel we built something unique in the face of adversity – we again overcame, like we always have, all the outside/inside interference in the nineteen years of the Farmyard’s existence.

The Farmyard’s still going to this day, and it’s still on that Park Plain, but it’s still far from plain. It constantly changes, it’s gone through recessions, internal upheavals, external pressures, authorities making it jump through hoops (needing security firms, we paid for some of our marshals to be security-trained), floods, and now what seems like pestilence, and it’ll keep on surviving as long as people want it to survive. It’s proved it’s not one site, nor any one individual or any one group of individuals – it’s people with the will to carry on, to carry on raising money to give to MAG. MAP has donated many tens of thousands of pounds to MAG, and plans on keeping doing so, and keeping biking alive in the UK. Our moto is Party with a Purpose and that’s our plan.

See you in a field soon (as soon as they let me out of this house, that is). Stay safe, stay well, ride free (because that’s what it’s all about).

Yorkshire MAG