No Rock And Roll Fun

SOFABURY: Oh, god almighty - would it have killed BBC Three to have held Bodies back a couple of minutes to let Morrissey get to the end of Shakespeare's Sister? If he'd have been taking a penalty kick, they'd have happily made the rest of the scheduling get into a queue, but for some reason - even although once the medical drama's out the way, all BBC Three has planned for the evening is more Glastonbury - they decided to cut away to the news. From what we've seen so far, mind, Mozzer is in fine form this evening. Some of you will remember The King, who would dress up as Elvis and do unlikely songs (all by dead artists, in his case). Morrissey seems to have decided to pick up his act, recreating The Smiths as Elvis. Even down to 'big fuck off name in red lightbulbs' backdrop. Not too sure where he's found the band, though: they seem to consist of Barry from Accounts and the nephew of the woman at the corner shop ("ooh, our bernie's boy plays a bit of guitar, Mr. Morrissey, would you give him a go at the festival?"). Sounds cracking, though - the best of the old guys so far this weekend.

They showed some more James Brown while they were waiting for Stephen to finish his preshow cordials, and it did seem to be a bit funkier - although Brown spent much of the time with his back to the audience, and someone else entirely was drafted in to do the bulk of Soul Man. When Brown ripped off his tie and threw it into the crowd, it wasn't clear at first if he was being moved by the spirit of funk or merely suffering excruciating chest pains. This was pretty much "I've seen James Brown" territory, like "I have seen the lions of Longleat." A car sticker to collect rather than a life changing experience.

Amy Winehouse: why? Colin Murray (who spent the whole of one link sidling up to edith and peering at her in a really, really disturbing fashion, like your unmarried uncle watching a ten year old in the swimming pool) suggsted that this had been a great weekend for "new british jazz talent" what with Cullum, Stone and Winehouse turning up; I suspect that anyone who actually likes jazz would rather he just went back to panting down Edith's shoulder. Winehouse has nothing to do with jazz; if anything, musically, she's like someone illustrating a list of all the notes that Whitney Houston has used in the past, mainly in alphabetical order. You know, here's something to ponder: if there was a plane about to crash with Cullum, Stone and Winehouse on it, and two parachutes on board, would you be able to sack whoever it was who forgot to take those last two parachutes off the plane?