After a refreshing sleep, I woke up, spent an hour writing a review of Thursday, reread the review and threw it in the bin outside. Then it was time for breakfast, but I decided to abstain, since the only option was cold spaghetti hoops.

The first group on were 'A', who were all right, but nothing to shout about. James, however, thought they were brilliant for some reason. Black star followed, and we drifted off to the G2 tent...

Where Agent Provocateur were playing. Now they were good. A perfect antidote to 'A' and 'Black Star'. They were truly wonderful, a group to watch. And 'Red Tape' - song of the year?

Now here is a bad idea. Why not try sitting on an exposed seat with no sun protection on the hottest day of the year for 2 hours to see Bob Mortimer play football. I know I did.

After one of the least interesting football matches I have ever seen (and that's bad), I went over to the Dr Martens tent, expecting to see Tiger. A woman and two men came on, said "hello, we're Posh.", and launched into one of the best sets of the festival so far. Their song titles were even better - "(he smells of) chips and Oxy 10" for example. I came away deeply affected. James came away hating them with intense venom.

So we went over to the G2 stage again to see the Super Furry Animals. To ,say the least I was a little disappointed. Apparently they have only 3 tunes. And they hadn't played more than 1 of them by the time I left.

We went to see the Manics. I don't think that they have particularly lost anything (except perhaps some intelligent lyricism) since the disappearance, but I do so wish they would stop, trying to be "mature". And will someone please tell them that turning into New Order is not a good thing to do. And they are fake D.I.Y. - their packaging and promotion anyway.

Disgusted, we went off to see Baby Bird, who it has to be said, I hadn't heard of before. They were very good - and from what I saw of them, they deserve the fame they have just acquired.

After Baby Bird finished (and James had disappeared to see Alanis (insert spitting noise) Morisette), were two of the best and worst moments of the festival. Bis came on to rapturous applause, and, inexperienced festival-goer as I am, pushed my way into the tiny bit of the crowd which was both moshing and being squashed against the railings.

Despite being in what could be truthfully be described as hell, I still managed to enjoy Bis - helped by the fact that not only were they truly wonderful, but that their rendition of 'icky-poo air raid' was absolutely brilliant. And Manda smiled at me (probably not impressive, since I'm sure she smiled at everyone). Halfway through the gig, I pushed my way to the side, and enjoyed the rest in relative peace. Surprisingly, the Dictaphone survived its drenching (we had pints of water thrown at us for some reason), but my cowboy hat had shaded its last neck. I'm pleased to report that it is now fixed for another year.

After Bis we saw Mark Thomas, who was amazingly funny, but, apart from the joke about the 'limited edition' orange KitKat (i.e. that it was specially developed for the niche market of Ulster loyalists - 'I want an orange KitKat!') it was completely foreseeable.