Why Oh Why Oh Why are you playing Glasto?

What's Gilbert O'Sullivan playing Glasto for? Unless I've missed something, I don't recall him being embraced by the ironic student crowd, a la Tom Jones or Rolf Harris.

Don't get me wrong, I'm a huge fan. Some great singles like Nothing Rhymed and Alone Again (Naturally), he's a good tunesmith and has a way with a lyric too. But I think he's going to have to do a lot work before he's accepted by the Guilty Pleasures crowd.

I went to see him with some colleagues at ULU a few years ago. He looked awful and he was awful. One of our party stormed out, objecting to his 'a woman's place is in the home' call and response song (fair enough, but take a joke darling), and we were sitting amid the GO'S Barmy Army, so it wasn't a pleasant experience. Mobile hairdressers called Annette and women called who worked in the accounts department at Kay's catalogue with their lower-tier management husbands. It was grim. And he didn't do Ooh-Wakka-Doo-Wakka-Day.

He lives in Jersey, perhaps I'll run into him one time.

But going back to Glastonbury, is he a draw? I think not. Someone's having a laugh.

The rain, the park and other things

Glasto to be a washout this year. I've never been the pop festival type. Calling it a pop festival is your first clue. The most outside rock I've ever done is the Fleadh. One year bright sunshine, the next year knee-deep in beery mud in a humid tent watching a dour John Martyn (a gig I forgot to list).

Uncomfortable feelings, the fear of trenchfoot, and here we are in the middle of London. I left halfway through headliner Neil Young as I was so cold. My Gap kagoul let in the water. What sort of kagoul is that? At least a day at the Milton Keyenes Bowl remained warm and sunny.

So no trips to Glastonbury for me, no matter who's on. I have visited the town, which is all brightly painted veggie cafes and crystal shops (even now) and you really wouldn't want to live there. My borther went to the festival once and someone shat on the side of their tent. That was thoughtful. The very idea of using one of those loos that turn into giant dungheaps horrifies me. Perhaps the person who shat on the tent felt more comfortable doing it there than in the oversubscribed latrine. Who can blame them?

No, if I ever was to go to one the 400,000 festivals that now litter the land, it's the local Hilton for me nor I'm not going. Unless I could go backstage and take full advantage of the hospitality that is.

So good luck at the mudbath this weekend, Glasto-goers. Rather you than me.