The sun is out this morning, we are welcomed into the day with Michael Jackson jokes and tributes and a nice fry-up. I venture out into the world after breakfast while waiting for the rest of the gang to rise.
SATURDAY
African dancing
Telling confusing stories
With a great soundtrack
Nomadic blues rock,
A perfect desert soundtrack
For sun-drenched hippies.
A tiny Stonehenge
and ladies with big bottoms
with midgets to laugh at
North African Soul
With a little bit of Jazz
A gentle groove for lunchtime.
On our tiny stage
For nuclear awareness
Big shouty noise pop.
There is a little hiatus while we wait for the Great Tony Benn to turn up and speak on our stage. Well I say 'wait', he's already here, drinking tea backstage but we are waiting for Ed Byrne, who's supposed to be before him. As the crowd is so big we employ Marcus Brigstocke, who thins out the numbers hugely after the Futureheads so Mr Benn doesn't get too intimidated.
After Marcus we are 'treated' to an Important Song about guns and knife crime, sung by some young, ethnically correct young kids who are stoked to be on stage at Glastonbury. The young black lad raps, the asian girl warbles and the white girl sings. It is awful and cringe-worthy, which is what you expect from these sorts of campaigns I guess. They stand near us as the honourable Mr Benn speaks, chatting loudly in inner city accents about how wicked and terrifying it was to sing in front of all these people.
Ed Byrne (when he eventually arrives) is funny. I 'fail' to call out when he asks who has got married recently, then smile wryly to myself as he proceeds to describe the worst wedding clichés imaginable
Girl in a big tent
Singing incoherently
The colour is red.
A funk soul legend
But too-cheesy soul should get
Down to the Backstreets
Bizarre Eclectic
Cabaret folk reggae jazz
The crowd is jumping
African Legend
Makes everyone jumpy, but
We have to go work
Fire Show
Tonight the show is smoother; the frightening giant bird follows me a little better, I save a small child from facial re-constructive surgery, the elephant makes it into the ring, to drive about the place aimlessly while the fire swingers do their thing. The circus field still fail to attract the crowds at the end, but there is one night to go to get it right. Finishing at midnight, we run to the top of the pyramid field to catch the end of The Boss.
Dancing in the Dark
Is the only song I know
Huge crowd is steaming
Heaving and Jumping
Monkey Monkey Monkey Man
The beer flows freely.
More mental ska-punk
A feelgood comedy band
I sleep on sofas.
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