Saturday began with a hearty meal of half-done pot noodle (mmmmmm!(irony)), cooked on a fire expressly against the notices telling us not to light fires, but abiding to the big shop selling firewood. I went over to the Doc Martens stage - while James scanned the notice-board for messages from Aaron, who we still couldn't find.

The band playing were called 'Sussed', and were pretty darn bad to put it mildly. In a phrase, 'Sub Northern Uproar'. And contrary to the hype around their recent single, Speedy were pretty dire too - or did they just catch me at the wrong time?

When James finally found me again, we trotted off to the G2 tent, expecting to see, if I can recall correctly, collapsed lung. However, we had again been conspired against and they weren't on. This was in some ways a good thing, as we were both inexplicably exhausted, and had to lie down for the duration of the sets from New Kingdom and Scheer, who have merged into one big lump of hip hop metal in my mind. Anyone who has a clear memory of them is welcome to send in a review. After regaining our physical strength, we went over to the main stage to see the Wannadies, only to find that someone called "Guru" was on.

And what an arrogant bastard he was. The time he didn't spend making bland soulless hiphop-jazz he spent telling us how great he was. Come on, if that's the case, we'll decide on it thank you. 40 minutes after he was meant to finish, he finished, and we were treated to the comparably godlike Wannadies. Thankfully, the Wannadies defied my expectations and were really good, and brightened my festival by playing all my favorite obscurities.
Some luminary (I joke not) had canceled Genius, and so we had on instead surprise guest Margarita Pragatan. Despite performing only 2 songs, she entertained all of us by thoroughly confusing everyone who was not in full grasp of their normal state of mind. So Stereolab came on at last - and they were good. Experimental, tuneful, brilliant, and very odd.

Half way through their set, I started talking to the most dodgy looking man in Britain (and possibly the universe). First of all he wanted to know who the group playing were. And then...

Him - You know how much day tickets cost on the gate? Guess?
Me - 20 quid?
Him - 100 mate, 100. You know how much this cost me?
(shows me his one day armband)
Me - 40 quid?
Him - Nothing, mate.
Me - Why?
Him - The masterplan, mate.
Me - Oh. 

For the rest of the set he insisted on repeatedly telling me that I looked ill. Next, on came Skunk Anansie. In the summer of '95 I saw them at the Heineken festival in Leeds, and to be honest they were amazing - and they scared the hell out of me. On this occasion, however, they were nowhere near that good. All the tunes seemed tuneless, and the band themselves were a bit dull. Maybe they only work in small venues. Anyway, I had left by the end of the set.

I was, in fact, in a long queue for the telephones, and so I missed mice. Darn.

So we had an expensive baked potato, and swiftly returned to what must surely be 'Performance art' night at the Doc Marten's tent. We found a group called 'Livingstone' on. They finished quickly, and on came David Devant and his Spirit Wife. Well, 'performance art', as I said before. While they were playing two men in suits did some magic tricks behind them. I know it doesn't sound very good, but in practice it was amazing. Just go see them and wait for the magic ink-blot book. They would have been good with or without these, but, well, at least they were making an effort to be different, unlike certain bands I could mention (ahem).

Minty were the highlight of Saturday night. Even from before they got on they were great - the announcer who told the person (who shouted 'no' when he asked the crowd if they were enjoying themselves) that "you might like it better on 'the other side'. Maybe we can help you there". On stage Minty were indescribably good. I can't describe their outfits (maybe I could but you wouldn't believe me), but suffice to say that they out-weirded even the man in the tomato costume. (This is of course with the exception of the inexplicably placed crusty at the back.) And the set topped even that. "That's nice" took on an entire new dimension, "Plastic Bag" made the recorded version sound like it had been made by Oasis, and "How can they call this art?" was wonderfully scathing.

I heard people talking about them all Sunday, despite the tent only taking a couple of hundred people. When they finished we went over to the cinema tent to see 'Seven', but we were totally shattered, so after 'Sloth' we went back to the tent.