GlastOn TV: Cape, Killers, and a dodgy Cold War metaphor

Eventually, the BBC played out Babyshambles in full. With his busted voice, and ladyscarf dangling from his pocket, it was a bit like a 1970s Rod Stewart tribute act. We'd actually turned on to a different screen before Kate Moss turned up.

There was no Carl Barat on stage with Pete, and Pete didn't wander on during the Dirty Pretty Things set, either. It would be foolish to try and set the two performances up in some sort of competition with each other, but that's never stopped us. DPT were West Germany to Babyshamble's pre-unification East; you're always aware that, just as the West never lost the faith that one day Berlin would be restored at the seat of power, so Carl has a look in his eye that reunification might be a possibility, but for now, is reveling in the freedom, while Babysshambles feels like a grimmer place to be, where even the fun comes with a sense of predetermination. There is no negotiation; the party line is the only line.

Seriously: would you rather be bouncing up and down to You Fucking Love It, or hoping your smile looks genuine as Comrade Moss comes on to perform her part on La Belle?

Also, Pete: your penis looks horrible. Please, never go near TV cameras without putting underpants on, ever again. Thank you.

An even bigger fashion mistake was Patrick Wolf, who seemed to have come dressed like a Pinnochio doll from a pound shop.

And we're still not sure if the guy who was hanging round the front of the Get Cape Wear Cape Fly stage in a big red cape was a fan paying homage, a support crew member with a sense of humour, or simply enacting a Get Cape Wear Cape Steal Equipment plan. GCWCF was the highlight of yesterday evening, though - even incoporating a backdrop with a fairtrade message, which is the closest anyone's come to that much-touted "glastonbury radical spirit" we keep hearing so much about.

By contrast, The Killers had some sort of pile of dead antlers to balance their keyboards on. And, of course, they had fireworks at the end. Isn't it about time one of the headline acts could come up with a more interesting idea than just letting off a few small-scale explosions to mark the end of their set?

Iggy Pop's skin: it looks like it's made of the stuff that they used in the 1960s when fake leather technology had yet to advance to a point where it could manage to replicate the flexibility of cowhide.