Picture it: a field somewhere in Somerset, approximately 90% mud, 8% crushed plastic cups, and 2% actual grass. The headline act is someone your mate’s cousin vaguely recognises from a 2019 Later… with Jools Holland appearance. There are no phone signals, the portaloos smell of broken dreams, and the cider is somehow both warm and flat simultaneously. Welcome to the Great British Summer Festival. It is, against all logic, one of the best things we do. I’d genuinely not trade it for anything. But I have been spending a frankly irresponsible amount of time imagining how comic book characters would cope here, and the results are catastrophic in the most entertaining way possible.
Thor would be banned by the second afternoon
Let’s start with the obvious problem. Thor, god of thunder and heir to the Asgardian throne, controls lightning. At a festival famous for metal stages, tall scaffolding rigs, and approximately 80,000 people holding wet tent poles, he is a walking health and safety incident. The HSE would have a field day. He’d arrive in full armour, Mjolnir in hand, and immediately be told by a steward named Dave that “no weapons, mate, it’s in the terms and conditions.” Thor would argue. Dave would not care. Dave has seen worse.
Then the rain would start. And Thor, bless him, would feel personally responsible. He’d spend the entire weekend frantically trying to redirect storms, accidentally making it worse, and eventually getting a formal written complaint lodged against him by the organisers. He’d end up sitting alone in the acoustic tent watching a folk duo from Bristol, quietly nursing a warm Strongbow, wondering if Odin ever had to deal with this.
Batman would spend the weekend in a silent, seething rage
Batman does not do mud. I cannot stress this enough. The man irons his cape. He has a bespoke cave with temperature regulation. He once built an entirely new Batmobile because the old one had a scratch. Now imagine him queueing for 45 minutes to reach a cashless bar that has just run out of his preferred brand of sparkling water. He’d stand there in full costume, rain dripping off the pointed ears of his cowl, staring at a laminated sign that reads “CARD ONLY – MINIMUM £5 SPEND” with the kind of controlled fury only a billionaire orphan can muster.
He’d also be terrible at festivals for entirely different reasons. Batman’s whole thing is surveillance and threat assessment. He’d spend the weekend compiling a dossier on every single person in the camping field. “Suspicious individual, tent 47C, has not slept in 36 hours and is wearing a bin bag as a poncho.” Yes, Bruce. That’s just Gary from Wigan having the time of his life. Leave Gary alone.
Spider-Man would actually be fine, which is annoying
I hate to admit this, but Peter Parker would absolutely thrive. He’s used to swinging between Manhattan skyscrapers at speed, so navigating a crowded main stage field is nothing. He’d volunteer for the crew, help someone find their lost group three separate times, take genuinely brilliant photos for the festival’s socials, and somehow end up on stage doing a bit with the headline act. Everyone would love him. He’d go home sunburnt (despite the overcast skies, classic British trap), with four new best friends and a wristband he’d keep on until Christmas. Genuinely insufferable.
The Incredible Hulk and the portaloo situation
This one keeps me up at night. Bruce Banner is probably fine in his mild-mannered state. He’s the sort of bloke who brings a proper camping stove, has a waterproof rucksack, and pre-downloads a playlist. Sensible. Prepared. Then someone bumps into him in the queue for the portaloos at 2am on Saturday night. The queue is two hours long. The bloke behind him is playing Oasis at full volume from a Bluetooth speaker. A seagull steals his chips. And then, slowly, Bruce Banner stops being Bruce Banner.
The transformation radius alone would cause a significant incident. Glastonbury’s traffic management is already widely covered by the BBC every year as a logistical miracle. Add a 2.7-metre green rage monster to the campsite and it stops being a miracle and starts being a documentary.
Wonder Woman would be having the absolute time of her life
Diana of Themyscira spent her formative years training on a hidden island of warrior women. She has wrestled gods, defeated armies, and crossed No Man’s Land in the First World War without flinching. A British summer festival, with its warm cider and communal spirit, is genuinely nothing to her. She’d be first in the queue. She’d have the best spot on the hill. She’d make friends with strangers from sixteen different countries, teach someone to arm-wrestle in the real ale tent, and cry at a beautiful set from a solo acoustic guitarist nobody else had heard of. She’d buy their EP on vinyl. It would be wonderful.
The lasso of truth would cause one minor incident when she accidentally deployed it on a festival-goer claiming the queue for the main stage had “barely moved” when it had clearly moved quite a lot. But she’d handle it graciously.
Deadpool would get a lifetime ban within four hours
Look, I don’t need to spell this out. Deadpool at a British festival is an Ofcom complaint, three noise warnings, and at least two visits from local council officers before the first act has even finished their soundcheck. He’d heckle the acoustic acts. He’d start a rumour that the secret headliner was someone completely implausible. He’d find the backstage pass system’s loopholes within twenty minutes. He’d be charming about all of it, which would only make it worse.
Funnily enough, I’ve previously written about video game characters who’d be flagged by Ofcom if they had their own chat show, and Deadpool would make that list too. He makes every list. He probably wrote his own list and laminated it.
Iron Man versus the no-fly zone
Tony Stark would book the best glamping pod money can buy, arrive in the suit, and immediately fall foul of the Civil Aviation Authority’s temporary airspace restrictions that apply over large public gatherings. He’d land, be told he needed prior authorisation, and spend the next two days arguing via a hotline that was clearly not equipped to handle a billionaire genius in a flying metal suit. The suit’s AI would try to help. The hold music would drive them both to the brink.
The glamping pod, at least, would be exceptional. He’d have it kitted out with a portable reactor, climate control, and an espresso machine. Everyone nearby would hate him for it, and he’d be oblivious, which is, honestly, very on-brand for Tony.
The bigger picture here
What all of this points to is that British summer festivals are a genuine social leveller. It doesn’t matter how powerful you are, how many suits you own, or what dimension you’ve saved recently. If it rains, you’re wet. If the card machine goes down, you’re not getting a pint. If the person next to you in the sleeping bag section is snoring at volume, there is nothing in any comic book that prepares you for it.
I’ve had a similar thought reading through some of the most baffling comic book storylines out there, actually. Superheroes can handle multiverse-collapsing threats and reality-bending villains, but put them somewhere ordinary and British and everything unravels gloriously. There’s also something quietly delightful about the fact that characters who routinely survive genuinely grim, emotionally harrowing story arcs would be completely undone by a two-hour wait for a pulled pork bap.
That’s festivals, though. That’s the whole point. You’re all in it together. Even if “all of it” includes a confused Norse thunder god slowly coming to terms with the acoustic stage schedule and a billionaire on hold with the CAA. See you in the field.
Frequently Asked Questions
Which comic book character would actually enjoy a British summer festival?
Wonder Woman and Spider-Man are the clear winners. Both are adaptable, good with crowds, and have the kind of relentless positivity that gets you through a two-day rain delay without losing the will to live. Thor would eventually enjoy himself once he stopped feeling guilty about the weather.
Would Batman survive Glastonbury?
Technically yes, physically. Emotionally, no. The lack of mobile signal alone would trigger a minor crisis, and the cashless bar situation would finish him off. He’d file a 47-page debrief upon returning to Gotham.
What is a British summer festival actually like?
Muddy, crowded, expensive, and genuinely one of the best experiences you can have in the UK. Glastonbury is the obvious benchmark, drawing around 200,000 people to Worthy Farm each year. The BBC has comprehensive coverage at bbc.co.uk if you want the full picture.
Why is Deadpool always getting banned from things?
Because Deadpool operates entirely outside the social contract that makes civilised events possible. He finds loopholes, ignores rules, and somehow makes you laugh while doing it. A British festival’s security team would have a very bad weekend.