Glastonbury 2008: Phil Nichol and Jim Jeffries at the cabaret tent

First to grace us with his presence was Phil Nichol, who picked Worthy Farm as the place to air his band The Stalkers.for their first live show.

 

After explaining how he’d never done this before he launched into a Johnny Rotten breakfast skit to the tune of i am an anarchist.

 

The introduction set the tone for the rest of his set. A musical comedy affair which allowed Nichol to vent his spleen on the various parts of his life from his ex-wife to dating a maniac.

 

If you could nominate any celebrity for a most-parodied award for the festival it would have to be Amy Winehouse.

 

The emphysema ridden star was not only taken apart by Isy Suttie but chosen by Nichol, guitar in hand, to be his next target. He reproduced something vaguely resembing Valerie with the lackadasical star acting much more true to life than she'd prefer to admit.

 

Perhaps it was the ‘I only know three chords’ factor but Nichol managed to sound a lot like Greenday. Try if you can to imagine basket case to the tune of a manic depressive and his set is summed up.

 

It wasn't classic comedy and you could tell. The musical element in the show detracted from its funnier side, but then again songs about rohypnol are not to be spurned.

 

Skip five hours and it seems that Glastonbury is saving the angry men till last. At just passed 11pm Jim Jeffries came on stage to bring his unique charm to bear on the dwindling crowd.

 

It is never easy to produce your best when half the tent is still listening to the Kings of Leon or Jazz World but Jeffries heckling handling was impeccable. Answering a demand to ‘get on with it’ he quipped: “You want more jokes?

 

“An Englishman an Irishman and a Scotsman walks into a bar and calls you a cunt!”

 

Over the course of twenty minutes we were treated to such delights as his egg-arse-colon-chopstick-hotel-shit joke and his record of sleeping with hundreds of women. Not to be modest about it, Jeffries ranted on that the only name you could call his kid would be Barry.

 

Jeffries produced a good set but suffered mainly because the audience were either smashed, half-witted or in their own world. Midnight is not an ideal time to listen to comedy.

 

For his part he battled through, ignoring the sparse tent to delivery his sardonic wit in a style not dissimilar to Brendan Burns, not seeming to care whether he was listened to or not.