We awoke on Saturday to find a far muddier festival than on the previous day. It had started during yesterday's headliners; I had heard the soothing pitter patter overnight and the rain continued in the early morning. Fortunately it never got cold in the tent like I had packed for, which was quite a contrast to Leeds 2002 where I nearly froze to death. Who cares about global warming and the future annihilation of our planet when it makes sleeping in a tent so much more pleasant?! I just wish I hadn't bothered packing such a bulky sweatshirt. My feet were sore and I had an awful crick in my neck from nodding my head to agreeable music but I didn't care. I was determined to watch as much as possible even if all this endless wandering between stages killed me! Waking up later than the previous day I encountered queues for the water and Ali still managing to stay resolutely in bed despite our wandering around making noise. I decided to wear my "classic" Manic Street Preachers T-shirt circa 1997 with "if I can shoot rabbits then I can shoot Fascists" on the back, which may have a plethora of holes but has enormous historical value to me. It is perhaps the only item that has been to every single festival I have, and also many of my early gigs before I simply forgot to keep wearing it! I also donned my aged (and, for this weekend, only) pair of trainers and an ancient raincoat in what I felt was a nostalgic nod to my festival-going past. Leaving Ali alone, Nick and I ventured out to get some food. I asked for chicken and chips and got ticked off for asking for a "non-breakfast" meal so early on in the day when they were only serving rubbish. With so many words on my website I have surely covered somewhere else my wisdom that nice food is nice food regardless of the time of day. This is why we settled on the same store as last time where I got another curry with jacket potato. This time it wasn't quite as nice as I was handed a strong heated curry rather than the chilled variety, hence I needed to wash it down with an early morning ice cream that clearly hadn't been properly chilled. See what I mean about my breakfast habits? This stuff is generally nice in the evening, so why shouldn't I eat it early in the day?! But this curry and ice cream proved just about the only poor quality food amongst an otherwise excellent standard, bellying the reputation of festival catering.

Ali finally awoke and we chilled out in the tent. I went through my early morning bowl routine again and doubt I'd had summoned up the energy for the day without it: The curry probably helped too! I also put on my tape featuring highlights of The Libertines and went to great lengths to tidy up my belongings. I remained utterly paranoid about theft all weekend but quite simply when you're in a tent and are leaving it alone all day there's not much you can do. Part of me thought of leaving all my belongings strewn around the tent, thinking that any Scouser would have to sift through them and pack it into my bag, which would require a large amount of effort and also drill home to him the fact that I had nothing worth stealing anyway. We eventually agreed not to bother making a second trip to Sainsbury's. We didn't have much time in the morning and I felt it would be criminal to miss over an hour of music with four stages of choice to get some more food! I was happy to snack on what I had already purchased and to keep buying festival meals. I started to plan my day and it became clear that we would have to split up. Neither Nick or Ali were prepared to commit to the massive amount of wandering I had planned, which I felt was utterly essential to get the most out of the day. I had a long list of acts strewn all over the stages I wanted to see and in particular was determined to try and see all my favourite songs. This involved watching Skip To The End by The Futureheads, Monster by The Automatic and Bang Bang You're Dead and I Get Along by Dirty Pretty Things in quick succession, alternating between different arenas. Could I pull this off? And how gutting would it be to have to walk away from an enjoyable set just in case another band decided to play a hit right at the start? The quest stood upon the edge of a knife!

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Into the arena we went and just as on the previous day we went to the Carling Stage, which started 30 minutes earlier than all the others. I believe there was enough music of interest to keep me there all day, such as The Maccabees, Tilly And The Wall, GoodBooks, The Noisettes, The Spinto Band, The Like, The Organ and The Fratellis! I would also have been pleasantly surprised if I'd had remained there as The View were last-minute additions to the bill. It's a shame that I missed practically all of the above due to the sheer quality from the main two stages. However, openers The Race followed in the footsteps of Mr Fogg yesterday by delivering a strong set. The singer was probably even more likeable, even nervously climbing up the scaffold by a few feet to sing to us from there for no reason at all! Musically I remember little but believe it was straightforward agreeable indie and their twenty-minute set flew by. As before, the pretend Karen O was in the DJ booth stage-left and we finally figured out that she was not the real one.

We briefly split up after walking towards the Lock Up Stage. I insisted on watching a few minutes of Aiden figuring that they might be mildly entertaining. I walked slightly towards the main stage but never bothered getting that close. I was more impressed with them than Towers Of London but it was basically just some mediocre rock music with them running around and swearing a bit. Exactly in line with my expectations but I believe the point is that I checked them out rather than just assuming! I then successfully got my fix of chicken and chips and walked back to Nick and Ali. I'm afraid I can't quite confirm exactly who I saw next. I believe the next band were last-minute additions Sonic Boom Six who were fronted by a lady with bright red hair. Although their sound was basically greebo/emo it was bouncy enough to keep me interested. Now here's the bit I'm confused about: I thought somebody had pulled out but I'm quite sure I saw some of Adequate Seven next. I don't remember anything about them, and the most interesting fact I can find online is that they have already split up!

We then went over to the second stage to see NME favourites Giant Drag. We also sat down for a bit to ease our aching joints, and naturally indulged in an immature (but still amusing) bout of grass chucking. The band took to the stage with their "anthem" You Fuck Like My Dad. Being a two-piece, their live sound was somewhat sparse. I can say the guitar sounded quite atmospheric, but her singing was hideously yelpy and we left within minutes! I'm running into difficulties now and I'd like to blame Giant Drag as here I am trying to write a decent-sized paragraph for each band but there is nothing I want to say about them! I guess I can fill a bit more space here by saying we then walked over towards the main stage. I insisted we stopped for a couple of minutes to investigate (who I believe was) Captain Everything. Apologies here if I've got my artists mixed up, but whoever I saw was terrible, featuring an annoying rappy guy who made Giant Drag seem like Elastica in comparison!

I don't quite understand what our hurry was though. None of us were fans of Flogging Molly and I may be tempted to move to a different county whenever they deem to play locally. Perhaps a bit harsh, but every festival needs an enemy and Molly were about the worst thing I saw! I believe we walked as far towards the front as we could, somehow drawing ourselves towards the horrible noise coming from the stage. They were an ageing bunch of Irishmen peddling what must be the most repetitive form of music known to man. It was fast-paced traditional Irish sounds mixed with loud grinding guitars, which were too noisy for fans of old music and not cool enough for lovers of modern sounds. A few minutes of this "music" and my head was starting to hurt. However, in scenes reminiscent of the awful Richard Fearless DJ set supporting Primal Scream I'd seen many years before, the crowd seemed to "get into it" the longer it went on. Just about every song was the same, and the best part was when they played something that seemed slightly familiar which got everyone to Morris dance! Perhaps I'm being a bit negative, but can assure any obsessive Flogging Molly fans (if there is such a thing) that we were very open-minded at the time and were genuinely trying to listen along happily and keep the good vibes up. It is only looking back now in hindsight that it dawns on me just how bad this sounded. With such a relentless barrage of noise I couldn't believe the organisers had granted them a SECOND set in the Lock Up Stage later on tonight. As their show droned on we were sitting down lazily, ignoring the band and the foolish people wasting their energy dancing as the sun kept going in and out. Already the early-morning mud was starting to disappear and the chances of the site being reduced to a quagmire were diminishing.

Until the day got going properly we were quite happy to stay around the main stage and get some full sets in, the only draw elsewhere being mildly hyped band Milburn on the second stage. I felt quite drained so wandered off to get a couple of cans of Red Bull to keep my energy levels up. However, the best way to wake yourself up is with some good music and Wolfmother were genuinely exciting new hopes. Ali was already a fan and I was quite impressed by the track White Unicorn, which I had thrown onto one of my compilation tapes. They may not have been around for long but already seemed like something special, with the large-haired appearance of At The Drive-In coupled with some of the most driven guitar sounds I'd ever heard. The audience watched and nodded their heads with strong approval and at times I was watching open-mouthed. Ali said he particularly liked the second song, but it was Woman played towards the end that really stood out, in addition to the aforementioned White Unicorn. The only criticisms I could level at them was that some songs just seemed to go on forever and pass into the realms of self-indulgence and perhaps they are of a style too limited to ever make me buy a CD. However, Wolfmother are the kind of band who make you come to festivals and can stand proud as one of the finest exports from Australia!

A classic case of musical differences arose with next act The Cribs. I was determined to watch their whole set in the firm belief that they would do something unbelievable at the end which would result in the death of Ryan or something else crazy. I saw yet again the folly of NME as they had hailed The Cribs as something special live, and I'd imagined I would be watching the heaviest indie band of all time. Freed from these misguided opinions, what I saw was a pleasant middle of the road indie set with some genuinely good songs thrown in. Ali was completely against them, perhaps due to my strong words of hype, but Nick seemed to get into them and enjoy it even more than me. At times I felt a little bored by their sheer indieness and the only song I did know was We Can No Longer Cheat You, which is sung by the other singer in the band. Just as Wolfmother had done, the stage was draped with a banner. It says something about their lack of rock thrills that I recall that this banner was blowing a bit in the wind and it stated on it that they come from Wakefield. I also think the closest they came to being bad boys was Ryan's Dennis The Menace style T-shirt and sneer! The weather got a bit strange now as it started to rain a bit, and up my hood went, making me feel like a member of Arctic Monkeys. Some maniacs also threw some liquid towards me, which stunk out my clothes a bit. The frustrating thing with Carling is that it is so weak I couldn't tell if it was beer, water or urine so just had to put up with the uncertainty! With the barrage from behind continuing after the rain stopped and the sheer heat of the sun I just kept my hood up. Being out in the sun all day is a horrible prospect, and I certainly was not going to go back to my tent and get some cream. Naturally despite my efforts to cover myself I did end up as the only one getting burnt (albeit less than usual). Anyway, The Cribs climax I was looking for came to nothing as Ryan just rubbed his guitar a bit against other things, making surprisingly little noise. Although it was hardly what I had hoped for I was happy enough with this usage of my time.

This was now the moment where I insisted on doing things my way and trying to get in as much music on the other stages as possible. Ali said he was going to wander off and do his own thing too and I arranged to meet him during The Automatic, whereas Nick promised to stay-put so I could find him during The Futureheads. The ultimate back-up plan was to meet somewhere in front of the secondary barrier right in the middle of the main stage. With my lack of phone all this planning was sadly necessary, and ultimately turned out to be a waste of breath! Although I encounter almost universal success whenever I venture on a solo wander, it did not get off to the best start. I rushed around firstly to see a few seconds of Capdown on the Lock Up tent, then walked on to Be Your Own Pet playing the second stage. Seeing Capdown was a complete waste of time as I have no memory of them and was only there for literally seconds. I would have stayed longer but was terrified I'd miss something good by The Futureheads! I also may never forgive Be Your Own Pet who I watched from the screen outside the arena. Jemima just kept talking on and on and on about shit and I wasted five minutes of my life waiting for her to play a song so I could say I'd seen them perform! By the time they finally started playing their "last song" I'd lost patience so just walked away. Then finally it was the Carling Tent for a bit of GoodBooks. All I determined was that they are not as good as Good Shoes, but that's a story for tomorrow. I left within minutes and this wander proved a rare failure, as I had seen nothing worthwhile and I wouldn’t had been in such a rush if I'd had known how The Futureheads were going to order their set.

The first worry though was where was Nick? He couldn't be found in the designated meeting point at the back of the moshpit or the ice cream van randomly positioned near the stage. I didn't embark on a search though, knowing that going on a wander to find somebody was a fruitless exercise with so many people here. Little did I know he had simply changed his mind about watching The Futureheads and wandered off! Anyway, the vast majority of their set was indeed a waste of time. I thought I would know a few songs but didn't recognise a thing until right towards the end. They had some kind of newspaper article themed backdrop and their music just drifted past me. This was deeply frustrating to know I could have been watching stuff on the other stages at this moment instead, and doubly gutting that at least part of my motivation in rushing back was to honour our agreement to meet up! The Futureheads eventually justified my effort by closing with the only two songs I properly knew. NME in their review of this set foolishly criticising the main stage sound but I can't find any fault whatsoever. Is Glastonbury really so wonderful it makes this festival seem so bad? I doubt it! And, to continue the theme of NME-beating, I should add that the very mediocre Hounds Of Love was declared their single of 2005, which says much about their taste. Yes, it's an OK tune, but Hounds Of Love was quite low down my list of anthems of the weekend. The band did their best to spice it up by splitting the crowd into two according to left and right, our half for the NME Cool List veteran (and occasional singer tonight) Ross and the other half for some other guy with a guitar in the band. We then did our best to do some harmonies and I believe our side won. Far more noteworthy though was Skip To The End, which has a classic pop swagger to it. Good stuff, but I wish I had continued my wander rather than wasting my time on the first half of this set.

So far so good: Now over to the second stage to witness Monster by The Automatic. I'd gambled correctly that they wouldn't play it at the start of their set, but was taken aback by just how many people had had the same idea as me. When I saw the supermassive crowd pushing towards the arena I started to wonder if I'd get in the tent on time to see it. My vague plans to meet up with Nick and Ali in here were torn to shreds by the sheer number of people, and my sole focus became getting as far forwards as possible. I gradually ambled into the tent and continued pushing forwards until I was satisfied. The attitude of everyone else was getting on my nerves though, as everybody was either pushing forwards yet further past me, or in some cases inexplicably leaving the tent before The Automatic started to play Monster! Later on in the day Nick and Ali confirmed that nearer the front were actually proper fans who knew more than one song, and this tent had been fairly quiet earlier on. It reminds me of Kylie Minogue at V2001, and the fact that if you wanted to see someone badly enough you should get in the tent a band or two before to guarantee your position. It's funny to think how such an enormous arena could get filled up so easily, and I wonder how it had coped in the old days when it was a fraction of the size. I had thought it would be the Carling Stage that suffered most from ridiculous overcrowding, but have been proved wrong. On this occasion though I was firmly with the casual fans: As you can see I refer to The Automatic as a song rather than a band! There was quite enough to do elsewhere without going out of my way to try to get into them.

Having said that, I did end up watching practically the whole thing, and was surprised by the enthusiasm (or perhaps politeness?) shown towards their other songs. Perhaps stunts such as having a David Hasslehoff shrine at every gig and trashing a GMTV set on morning TV have won over the masses. The most exciting thing about The Automatic for me is that they are from Wales, the home of much of the finest music in the world. Another song called On The Campaign Trail also sounds rather good, although I didn't notice it on the night. But all of these other tunes just drifted past me, possibly due to my distance from the stage. When Monster started everybody screamed and started to sing a bit, but it sounded all a bit disappointing. I was expecting carnage and moshing all the way to the back, but the volume of casual fans seemed to prevent that from happening! The Automatic gamely tried to follow Monster as Goldie Lookin' Chain came on and started to prance around the stage. Apparently they played a cover of Gold Digger, but it was either unrecognisable or I'd just ceased listening. Some of the crowd tried to get into it, but I was already on my way out. I feel like I got an essential slice of 2006 history by watching Monster live, but was perhaps let down by my distance from the stage, and single minded interest in only watching the one song. Maybe The Automatic have a future, but they'll never beat Monster. The follow-up single Recover didn't dent the charts, and I watched the equivalent Leeds set on TV as the singer got down amongst the crowds at the end, had his clothes pulled at a little bit and stormed off the stage in a girly strop! Perhaps reason enough for them to fade away into nothing. Sorry guys, but at least I've successfully got through two paragraphs without calling you one hit wonders!! ...Oh. Whoops.

Next stop was back to the main stage for Dirty Pretty Things. I had gambled that they wouldn't play Bang, Bang You're Dead or I Get Along in the first half, but made the mistake of following The Automatic crowd and approaching the main stage from the right. This was the first and the last time I tried to pass the secondary barrier from this side, and I'd never expected so much fuss to get in. Dirty Pretty Things were already on stage and as I was walking towards them I heard them play You Fucking Love It. I eventually got in and started walking towards the centre but didn't get very far at all. Around this time I started to wish I'd got my mobile on me. I didn't try for the meeting point as I had no faith that anybody would honour our arrangements and also figured that by the time I got to the middle that I'd only want to move on anyway. Carl Barât had busted his arm and was wearing a sling so all he did was sing and swing around a bit. He also had a Pete Doherty look-alike on guitar and the only thing that told me this wasn't him was that the crowd weren't going appropriately crazy about it. However, with a topless (why?!) Gary on drums at least half of The Libs were present and correct, along with the promise of playing perhaps their finest song. I never got into The Libertines at the time, probably due to their shambolic nature. However, they proved one of the first pay-offs of my internet downloading, and I now really like them. I do only keep listening to the same few songs again and again rather than listening to their catalogue in depth, but I do like what I know. Like just about everyone else on the main stage they had a backdrop and things got going when a trumpeter appeared to kick off Bang, Bang You're Dead. I'd argue this tune stands alongside the best of The Libertines quite comfortably! They followed this with set closer I Get Along which was slightly under whelming, perhaps being a bit too ragged and losing its power. The fact that most of the crowd didn't seem to know it goes a long way towards proving that The Libertines may have inspired some devotion but are hardly on the same scale as Oasis, or even Blur, on the legendary bands front. Gary threw his drumsticks into the crowd, and I quickly ran off again, having no desire to wait around for Feeder, who were interestingly enough the only main stage band I saw nothing of today.

Mission accomplished! I had managed to see all I wanted of The Futureheads, The Automatic and Dirty Pretty Things, completing my afternoon wander. I was so elated at having seen all this that it is only in retrospect that each of these sets feels a bit so-so. Possibly yet again this was down to my distance from the stage, rather than any fault of the artists concerned, and if I'd had stayed on the main stage and missed The Automatic I'd never had forgiven myself. It was before 6pm and Arctic Monkeys weren't due onstage until 8:30 so I had plenty of time to fill. My first concern of course was getting away from the main stage. This proved quite difficult, with plenty of whining from people pushing and such. I efficiently dodged my way through everyone as quickly as possible, bitterly regretting trying to get into the moshpit from this angle. I then imagine I went straight over to the second stage to watch The Fall, although the only note I've made for this moment in time was that Wolves beat Luton 1-0, and longest serving player Lee Naylor had left the club! The Fall were quite unspectacular. I'd seen Mark E Smith come onstage during an Elastica gig and still don't quite understand what the fuss is about, besides the fact he's made a lot of albums, has exhausted dozens of band members and was loved by the great John Peel. The 20 minutes or so I saw of them was just anonymous songs played to an indifferent rather small crowd. It's difficult to believe The Automatic had been playing this very spot just one hour before to the largest crowd imaginable. I followed this up with the full 45 minutes of Clap Your Hands Say Yeah and suddenly Feeder seemed a whole lot more tempting. Hands are "internet sensations" and very hotly tipped so I had high hopes for them. What I got was a rather boring and whiny set which just went totally over my head. The only song I know is Upon This Tidal Wave Of Young Blood, which is OK but nothing special. My theory is that they must have wrote some decent tunes that got the online crowd buzzing, and because they have been signed purely on this hype, rather than strength of gigging or interestingness, are unable to impress in a live arena. Either that or they're terrible and the people who hyped them are fuckwits. I just don't know!

I guess I then grabbed some food and wandered towards the main stage again, with the intention of getting a good place for Arctic Monkeys. Previously in the tent we had discussed whether our love of the Monkeys was sufficient to enable us to put up with The Streets. I decided that I was prepared to endure their full set in the interests of getting forwards. It turns out I did make the correct decision, but for the wrong reasons. My hatred of Mike Skinner was almost entirely down to his annoying Brummie accent and shamelessly repetitive hits. He was already on stage and a couple of songs in as I pushed my way into the arena. The first surprise was that the crowd were enjoying themselves. There was also a hint of rain, which always wakes me up. I can't quite remember how it happened, but can only put it down to a positive frame of mind: I was gradually starting to enjoy myself! They had a Hawaiian backdrop and Mike immediately made me smile with an improv chant of "what's that coming over the crowd, is it a beach ball, is it a beach ball?!" He repeatedly goaded us to try and make us all sit down. As an experienced music veteran I usually find this a tired trick but his self-belief and repeated proclamation that "it's a beautiful thing" struck a chord. He also was shouting "go low, go low, everybody get the fuck down!" and "when the drummer sits down, I want you to jump!" I found myself kneeling down, jumping and even moshing a bit. Everyone around me was smiling and I was surprised to note that the few committed haters of The Streets refusing to "go low" just looked like antisocial dicks.

On a musical front, it was all relentlessly tuneful and Mike's voice didn't seem to grate at all. When You Wasn't Famous sounded good, and Never Went To Church was one of the most beautiful moments of the entire weekend. Mike also encouraged the guys to take off their shirts and wave them over their heads, and inspired a mass-outbreak of flashing and nudity, including a presumably insane man who was shown full frontal on the monitor. It was hilarious, but I'm not quite sure what I was laughing at! By the time he reached closing duo Dry Your Eyes and Fit But You Know It (which was a nice surprise as I'd guessed he'd opened the set with it) I was fully converted. The quiet bits were moving, and the up-tempo numbers made me want to bop and dance. His band were also impressive, including another rap guy wandering around sharing vocal duties and a guy who looked like Paul from Big Brother in the choir. As if I needed any more persuasion, the sight of the sun setting and the release of his glitter cannon pushed this show into realms I doubted even Arctic Monkeys could surpass! The whole set ended with a massive go low (at least one of the band was wearing a T-shirt saying "Go Low") and Mike implored everyone "In the name of Reading 2006, everybody get the fuck down. It's a beautiful thing!!" I was just completely staggered how somebody I hated so intensely could impress me so much. I guess when you look beyond the slightly grating accent and overly commercial tunes, the music of The Streets reveals a power to connect with a crowd on a very strong level. And, as I love to keep on saying all over these pages, it was yet more evidence that I am completely open-minded and prepared to try and enjoy anything, as before this night there were very few bands I disliked as much as The Streets! I wonder if I'd feel the same if I went to see Robbie Williams live? Almost certainly not, but it's a terrifying thought!

I adopted the smug air of the seasoned fan to prepare for the arrival of Arctic Monkeys. Ever since the very first word of hype I had been entranced, and their live show in Manchester just before the release of Dancefloor was one of the greatest musical moments of my life. Although Jet may be passable as one hit wonders, I was hardly going to leave the main stage now, and certainly not for Coheed And Cambria, who must be the most obscure band of the entire weekend to be playing such a lofty slot. I edged my way towards the middle of the arena and by now was resigned to everyone else having pulled off a skank. In fact I'd been alone since 3:30pm and now it was past 8. Although the golden circle was busier than yesterday it was still much better than what you'd normally expect from a festival crush. As per the agreed meeting point, I was standing exactly in the middle towards the back of the front section. Apart from a bit of rain not much transpired until the Monkeys took to the stage in low-key fashion. I'd hardly expected any Muse-style theatrics from them, but they didn't even bother with a backdrop. They opened with Dancefloor which got me moshing and singing along, then broke into stirring versions of Still Take You Home and (as far as I was concerned) set newbie You Probably Couldn't See For The Lights But You Were Looking Straight At Me. Surprise early standout was current single Leave Before The Lights Come On which took on a magical air and I now regard it as equal to their "early" classics. Critics may have had a field day with their hesitant manner, total lack of showmanship and pauses between songs so Alex could tune his guitar, but the vibe I got was one of enjoyment. They're only on their first album and are strangers to performing to a crowd like this, which is why Muse were headlining. Monkeys may have been the bigger band of the moment but it would had been too much too soon for them to top the bill.

Alex was hardly helping matters by asking us if we were enjoying ourselves, and saying about how quiet we were and everything. He may have only been trying to get some banter going but his words rang true and made you think they were actually out of their depth. Hopefully a few more large shows and they will understand that it's simply a strange truth that an outdoor show of thousands sounds much quieter than an indoor club with hundreds and won't worry so much about it. But I thought they sounded excellent, their sole drawbacks being inexperience and the ignorant crowd who didn't know all the words. I had no problems with there being a new guy in the band, which didn't seem to change things, except for the sentimentality of losing an original member. I'm sure further back were hoards of people standing arms folded being cynical and looking for things to criticise! Anyway, back to the music. I still am quite indifferent to Cigarette Smoker Fiona, and when Perhaps Vampires Is A Bit Strong But... morphed into Dancing Shoes exactly as it had done in Manchester I did my best to sing and jump but it simply was not as exciting as before, both because I knew what to expect and there were so many "new" fans in front of me who didn't know all the songs. The View From The Afternoon (the one I've never been bothered about) attracted much more enthusiasm than the astonishing Bigger Boys And Stolen Sweethearts and made me even more frustrated by the crowd. Was I really the only person who knew all the words? Of course the other side of the coin is yesterday with Franz, where I was one of the casual fans, but in my defence I'd blame that on not having had a chance to see Franz on an early tour and get into them due to the volume of their casual fans. I think any weaknesses in this set were stamped on though by the closing quintet. From The Ritz To The Rubble set the pace before Fake Tales Of San Francisco really picked things up. Alex dedicated it to the fire wardens after noticing a large fire burning uncontrollably to his right.

Predictably Mardy Bum was the set highlight, albeit in a totally different way to before. In Manchester it had been pogo-tastic but was now slowed down into a beautiful perverse love song I took great delight in singing as loudly as possible. The band had showed the audacity to drop it from their set on previous shows but had presumably responded to overwhelming grief and mass suicides by reinstating it. Refusing to release it as a single in retrospect may have been the best way to stop it becoming a millstone for them, and my Favourite Song Of The Decade may have lost its edge if it had become a national anthem, and victim to a relentless barrage of abuse from clueless musical cunts reacting to it with negativity or indifference. And I think I should clarify I'm referring entirely to the demo version of Mardy Bum, as the album version is utterly inferior and the only disappointment on their debut album. The flag being waved about saying "Alex - I love your mardy bum" may have been meaningless sentiment but still sticks in my mind, as does the slightly less Arctic-Monkeys-related Isle Of Man flag! When The Sun Goes Down seems to have maintained its excellence despite becoming a number 1 smash, with the entire crowd getting to sing along in the traditional manner. Things were closed as expected with A Certain Romance. Everyone else loves it but I'm still indifferent. It's nice and has a bit of everything but just isn't as exciting as many of their other classics. And now the real action for the day was over. Arctic Monkeys had managed to play every single song they had played to me last time plus a few extra: Expected opener Riot Van and Who The Fuck Are The Arctic Monkeys? being the only omissions. It goes without saying they had been better than The Streets despite their strong performance earlier on, and it will be fascinating to hear where their career goes from here. A decent second record and some more live experience and they could be world-beaters, but it's difficult to imagine them topping the early excitement. Still, almost a year on from my first viewing and they haven't messed it up... Yet!

SETLIST

I Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor/Still Take You Home/You Probably Couldn't See For The Lights But You Were Looking Straight At Me/Leave Before The Lights Come On/Cigarette Smoker Fiona/Perhaps Vampires Is A Bit Strong But.../Dancing Shoes/The View From The Afternoon/Bigger Boys And Stolen Sweethearts/From The Ritz To The Rubble/Fake Tales Of San Francisco/Mardy Bum/When The Sun Goes Down/A Certain Romance

As the age old saying goes, a satisfied Arctic Monkeys fan can be an unfortunate fellow! I spent a couple of weeks after the festival trying to identify the Amazing Riff Song everyone was singing, before determining it was Chelsea Dagger by The Fratellis. As I had no idea I did not rush over to The Carling Stage like I should have done. I had taken the large exodus after Monkeys to be a statement of rebellion against Muse and not a rush for this song. Shame I missed what could have been the best mosh of the entire weekend. I also could have stayed put and watched Muse. I had no idea that they would release singles Supermassive Black Hole, Starlight and Knights Of Cydonia in quick succession, finally coming out with songs strong (and distorted!) enough to overcome Matt Bellamy's fuck-awful whine. And it probably would have been quite a visual show as well. After being blown away by The Streets, even enjoying Muse seemed possible! Instead I left the crowd without the appropriate urgency and wasted my time queuing for two cups of piss beer. I think the choice was wine, or Strongbow/Carling at around Ł4 a time, and by not even offering a token bitter this proved dire beyond belief. Banning you from bringing nice drinks into the arena is just not on if the festival can't provide a nice and reasonably priced alternative.

I gradually ambled over to wait for The Raconteurs to take to the NME stage. By now I was tired and quite satisfied with my day so decided I would leave the moment they played Steady As She Goes. They decided to play it second song in so I nodded my head a bit then left. I can't remember much about them. Jack White seemed to stand back a bit to ensure he didn't dominate the band and there was a medium-sized crowd and some strobe lights. It seemed good enough but I just couldn't see where else they could take it. In fact it turned out they went down the cabaret route by throwing in cover versions of Bang Bang (My Baby Shot Me Down) and Teenage Kicks, which probably is the best thing they could do with such a small back catalogue, short of giving up and playing hits by The White Stripes. Indeed, I can say I found them much more interesting than Jack White's day job! So now it was back to the tent. I took a look towards the main stage from a distance to see Muse predictably going mad with the strobe lights. I have no doubt they'd had been better than at Leeds 2002, but then again that's not difficult!

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This had indeed been a hectic day. I had seen some of everyone on the main stage except Feeder and still found time for six of the eleven bands on the NME stage. Somehow though I was in good shape and my feet weren't hurting as much as I'd expected, so I was planning to do the same thing again on the final day! It had been a hugely successful afternoon. I can apply this comment to the entire festival and say not a single band missed out essential hits, and on this day I had seen just about every one of them, barring Are You Gonna Be My Girl, Chelsea Dagger and Supermassive Black Hole. Back at the tent I chilled out and put on one of my tapes. It was one I was particularly pleased with, starting out as an achingly fashionable compilation featuring The Young Knives, The Blood Arm, Arcade Fire and Nine Black Alps, followed by a strange mid section with Morrissey, The Dandy Warhols and Lordi, which led into an "inevitably" retro climax of Love, The Jam, The Mamas & The Papas, Elvis and the big finale of I'm Into Something Good by Hermann's Hermits! Listening to it is like going backwards in time, yet somehow it all gelled together nicely. I had some quiet time and spent it yet again tidying up my belongings, awaiting the others and the almost inevitable clash of "my day's been better than your day". I just insist on having that argument because I am always so sure I have seen the better bands, but it's such a waste of time as nobody ever admits defeat in such discussions, even if their day has been sitting in the tent being moody!!

Nick and Ali reappeared before the end of Muse which I'd take as solid evidence they can't have been that good. I sometimes wonder how we would cope with European festivals where bands play until the early hours. Short of assuming everybody is going to take endless drugs I just don't see how it can work. We were all in positive mood though. Nick and Ali had been further forwards than me for The Automatic but otherwise had had a similar day albeit with less music. And it turns out we had all been shocked by how good The Streets were, so I was relieved it wasn't just me. The big surprise was that Nick and Ali claimed to have been in the exact meeting position for Arctic Monkeys. As I was there myself I can only say this is impossible, as we would have been standing within metres of each other without noticing. Nick was in a more positive frame of mind too, seemingly no longer thinking about going home for no reason and prepared to enjoy himself! We chilled out a bit and encountered some problems in the scramble for new batteries when the lantern ran out. All I remember next is that Nick went to sleep first, we might have put on a bit of music and I endured absolute agony when I pulled my leg getting into my sleeping bag. I bandaged it up to try and stop myself aggravating it and it's a good thing I did as it continued to ache for the rest of the weekend. And, apart from a lot of giggling as I invented the new insult cuntshite and we thought in horror as to its actual meaning, I think that's about it for today. Anyway, the date I am writing this is 28th December 2006, which means it has taken me six long weeks to review the day. Now roll on Sunday!

SONG OF THE DAY: Arctic Monkeys - Mardy Bum