V Festival Day One

I have to open this by saying how V Festival has gone downhill over the years. And this one annoyed me on arrival by the huge queues for the shuttle busses. Actually the busses weren't the problem; it was the queue for tickets for the shuttle-busses. Which a few years ago were free of charge since most people arrive by train and need to get there.

Anyway, having finally got there and gone through the queue to enter, one is then faced with the thought of lunch. Endless choice, just none of it very good. James had chicken and chips and a coke and was expecting change out of a tenner rather than having undershot. Especially as you don't get much for the cash.

Even worse later in the evening we stopped at a van whose main selling point was coffee and hot-chocolate. He fancied a hot chocolate only to be told the machine wasn't working, but they could just pour boiling water over the powder for £3. An attempt to switching to coffee met the same response - machine was broken. And almost universally the service was surly - and yes I know there must be more fun jobs than serving fast food at a festival, but even so. Can't complain about the price of beer though. The queues at the Bars were so long I didn't bother to try.

But of course one  doesn't attend for the food, but for the entertainment. And the line-up for day one this year was truly appalling. We struggled to work out any itinerary across the stages that we really wanted to see, so started off with the comedy tent. Where to our surprise we found Sara Pascoe. Surprise, as our internet clash-list had her down for late afternoon. No doubt our fault for not splashing out another £10 just for the privilege of a "programme" ie a list of who we had paid to see and when.

Anyway, she was her usual good self. An underrated comic in my view.

The excitement was all too much for James...

One catch with the comedy tent this year is that it was perched on a gentle backward slope, which makes sitting on the ground rather an effort.. Totally prostrate was about the only comfortable position.

Next up was Jen Brister, a 41 year old lesbian comic (as she quickly announced). A lot of the routine was about being a middle-aged parent, which might have worked better if she didn't look so young and boyish. The routine felt a bit of a struggle.

Surprisingly Ivo Graham, a much younger comic who followed, seemed rather more at ease. In fact when one thought about it, this young man had learnt his script really well. Nicest part was routine about being 25 and still going on holiday with his parents, even to the extent of sharing a room. Indeed a room with an opaque(in daylight, but clear when internally lit!) ) glass walled en-suite, from which he could see in the middle of the night his naked mother straining to have a crap. But that wasn't the awkward bit: the truly awkward bit was realising how visible he would have been the night before having a quick wank which was clearly therefore in open view of his parents.

Anyway, interesting contrast of styles - just having a collection of gags or learning a script word perfect.

But in further contrast was Adam Hills. His routine was simply the best thing we saw all day. And this was a combination of a second half which was very good and relaxed, but which I had heard before, and a totally improvised first part with members of the audience. Now I had seen him do all this before and concluded then that he had just struck lucky previously in getting perfect audience members. One couldn't be that lucky again. But no, he was, and it was hilarious.

The routine came out of this 40 year-old guy at the front repairing washing-machines. So Adam set up a sort of Swedish porno version of a washing machine repair man. Incorporating a bit of James Brown (you had to be there). What made it perfect was the Swedish blond housewife was actually a long-haired bloke, called Will. Oh and a couple of girls were added to the mix as dancers and they were great too. It was just carried along so perfectly. Indeed the mark of a great comic. There wasn't so much as a few good gags in it all, as just nothing but laughs from start to finish. You need confidence to pull that all off. And the audience rightly loves Adam Hills, so he can go for it.

So much for the comedy. We ventured outside and then saw the best of the music acts all day. And that was Rick Astley. A varied set, some of those wonderful 80s dance numbers with other songs that were more reminiscent of Tom Jones. A wholly enjoyable set. Only complaint would be he overplayed the being middle-aged bit. One or two jokes would have been nice and self-deprecating. Repeated references to the crowd's parents knowing this one just got a bit tedious.

 But his set was a masterpiece compared to the following act, Troye Sivan. My first exposure to this lad who I assumed from those around us had a big following amongst the youngsters. Gave it a couple of songs before I turned to James, about to say to him whether we should cut our losses and depart but he beat me to it by plaintively asking if we could go. How can I describe this chap's work? Imagine someone singing one of the very simplest of nursery rhymes with a dance beat suddenly interjecting every now and then. To be honest, the low light of the day.

When we came out of the "crowd" we saw it wasn't one. Just a tight little pool in front of the stage. Embarrassingly, but deservedly, unpopular

On the main stage was Bastille. Now I don't mind Bastille and own their first album. But of modern indie bands I would have to put them at the very blandest end of the scale. So not an unenjoyable set, but not setting the pulse racing either. And lead singer Dan Smith tries audience rapport but doesn't really have the personality for it. Overly humble. Would be good if he didn't finish every song with "Thank you so-o-o much" after the applause.

Then we were at a loss as to what to see next. Didn't much fancy Sia so pootled into the dance tent. Caught a bit of Tchami. Fine, I quite like this stuff, but frankly it could have been any other DJ as far as I was concerned. We made an abortive attempt to leave - aborted because we hit a sharp shower so scurried back into the dry. Sadly the biggest draw for these acts is the outside weather conditions. Audiences rapidly increase in size if it rains.

Shower over and with over-priced noodles inside us we wandered back to the MTV stage - passing the sun setting over the comedy tent...

...to arrive to see the end of Tinie Tempah's set. Now I confess I do not like Mr Tempah at all. But then I honestly don't think the large crowd listening do either - they just think they do. My point is that they sing along not to his little spoken rants, but to whoever else he has on stage with him, Jess Glynne, Zara Larsson, this Mexican band...

Put brutally, there is probably no Tinie Tempah number that couldn't be improved markedly by the absence of Tinie Tempah from it.

And so to the much-vaunted headline act - Justin Bieber. The crowd for this boy was enormous. We weren't going to get anywhere near, and had no wish to be crushed by Beliebers. So we settled for seeing him on the screens from afar. The sound was pretty poor and frankly he was just totally underwhelming. Not awful, just nothing to be worth listening to. Of course subsequently much has been written about him just miming. Poor show all round.

 So we left this overcrowded stage ..

 ..and headed back to the second stage to catch veteran ravers Faithless. I just don't like their stuff. But much less of a crowd so we could watch his light show from the hill for a bit. And then headed home. A poor day's return.