Oxegen day 2: FANTASTIC. Absolutely breath taking. The Kooks, The Killers, Rufus Wainwright, Daft Punk, Razorlight and a FUNFAIR made for a great day. The funfair part was electric; and it was my first rollarcoaster, heart racing thing I'd been on since Disneyland in 2005. Weeeeeeeeeeeeee-eeeeeeee!

Pete Doherty was there with his Babyshambles crew, but I wasn't much impressed by him. The music wasn't bad, but I got sick of watching the stereotypical rock'n'roll drugged up rock star prance and stumble around the stage. The only reason I know who he is, is because he's the on-off partner of Kate Moss and I only know her because of her on-off druggie boyfriend. Bleh.

Another not so hot fella I heard was that head wrecking Dizzy Rascal. He won some newcomer prize a few years ago, and his yellow and black coloured video was on for a while. He hasn't changed much.

I then saw the BEACH BOYS!!!....Or one at least. I think his name was Brian(?). So Brian the Beachboy played Beach Boy songs and it was good. He was in the Blue tent, where I managed to sneak into the disabled seating area. Innocently of course. It was only when I was enjoying the luxury of being able to sit down when I saw the marshal turning people away, shouting that ONLY PEOPLE WITH THE DISABLED WRISTBAND were allowed in. Whoops. I then got talking to said Marshal which meant that when I left the tent, I was able to get back into the disabled area upon my return without interrogation. Interesting.

The Killers closed the night, and despite rumours that they were terribly live, they were excellent.

After that, there was a push and crush and cram for the buses, but we got there eventually. Eventually.

I'd definitely go to a festival again, no doubts about it but I wouldn't camp. I think I'd just take the bus and get a day pass. That or smile at a celebrity, use them, get and keep their number, ignore them until about three months before the next concert, treat them sweet and keep them buttered up, and then have them invite me as a VIP. I'd have to of course drop in my transplant story to make *sure* they felt sorry for me thus ensuring I wouldn't be tossed out at any stage, even if I *did* develop a diva-esque attitude.