Pass notes No 2,802: Glastonbury

Age: 40 Appearance: Exuberant always, muddy often. Ah, Glastonbury! Ancient repository of Arthurian legend, the evocation of England's mystical past etched into the very landscape, as beautiful and timeless as Queen Guinevere herself . . . Er, no, actually. We meant the festival. Which is actually in Pilton. You mean the week every June when Michael Eavis lets whatever swathe of Somerset it is be despoiled by hordes of self-indulgent tosspots imbibing cider and flapjacks of uncertain provenance and, I suspect, exchanging bodily fluids on a grand scale? There is doubtless a certain amount of tent-and-illicit-substance sharing, but primarily the young folk are there for the music, man. There's music? Yes. It's one of the main reasons for going. This year's line-up includes the Dead Weather, Vampire Weekend, Snoop Dogg, Slash, Scissor Sisters . . . Are these popular beat combos or are you just some kind of random noun generator? The former. Muse, Stevie Wonder and Gorillaz are headlining. I've heard of Stevie Wonder. He once sang a nice song about Ebony and Ivory with a pudding-faced chap at a piano. Who else will be there? Tinchy Stryder, Shakira, Seasick Steve . . . OK, you're just making stuff up now. And nearly 200,000 music fans. Or as I call them "200,000 digestive systems waiting to evacuate". There must be literal hippyshit all over the place. The toilet facilities – or historic lack thereof – have indeed entered into non-Arthurian legend themselves, but things have improved in recent years. I'm still not tempted. What if I told you it's a wonderful drawing together of like-minded folk in celebration of their consuming passion for music? I'd say . . . meh. What if I told you Bono definitely won't be playing? I'd say sign me up. I'd say see you there if the tickets hadn't sold out within 24 hours of going on sale last October. Do say: "Another flapjack? Don't mind if I do." Don't say: " Could you keep it down a touch, Slash? Ta."