Tens of thousands gathered to watch Corbyn in the mid afternoon, a crowd of the size typically reserved for Glastonbury headliners. Almost all watching were fans; many wore T-shirts bearing his face or name, and there were banners of appreciation in the crowds.
“When Theresa May called the snap election, going back on what she said previously, Corbyn had a right to challenge that,” said Danny Owen, 27. “He’s been challenged by his own party twice and over came it. He galvanised it and Labour made inroads because of Corbyn and his manifesto. He’s become a figurehead now. He’s relatable. People say he’s radical, but I don’t think he is – he wants fair wages and outcomes and well funded social services. The fact people see that as radical is a sad indictment of our society.
Charlie Foster Lewis, 42, a Victoria line tube driver, said: “He was fabulous, friendly, meeting everyone, pulling pints at the bar, taking selfies. He was talking about Grenfell tower; he said no one should have to live in those conditions.
“He stands for everything, he’s all about the people. We’ve been fans of Corbyn for the past five years. It’s very important and it’s time to engage young people in politics.”
Jeremy Corbyn: ‘Let us recognise another world is possible’
Craig David review
When Craig David performs The Rise And Fall – a sombre, Sting-assisted meditation on the vacillations of fame from his second album Slicker Than Your Average – he prefaces it with a heartfelt speech about the ups and downs of his own career. But it seems unlikely that, even at his most optimistic, he would have imagined that his comeback would pan out like this: the crowd gathered for him at the Pyramid Stage is enormous – considerably larger than the one assembled for Radiohead last night.
His comeback is an object lesson in the value of standing completely still – his latterday material sounds almost identical tot he pop-garage he was churning out 16 years ago – and clearly part of the appeal is nostalgia: “he’s classic noughties pop,” explains one audience member to a friend, who looks too young to remember the early noughties at all. The crowd receive him with a kind of delighted hilarity: if another part of his appeal is that people think he’s faintly ridiculous, it’s not entirely clear if David himself is in on the joke. He certainly doesn’t seem to be performing Seven Days or a garage cover Justin Bieber’s Love Yourself with his tongue in his cheek, but then he could always just be playing the gag dead straight.
He overcomes the obstacle of not having enough huge hits of his own to fill a set by simply playing other people’s records – TLC’s No Scrubs and House Of Pain’s Jump Around among them – and singing over the top of them and alters the lyrics of his own tracks to reference the festival: “I wanna be yours Glastonbury and spend the whole night with you,” he sings, which brings to mind the diverting image of Craig David staggering around Shangri-La at 4am with a man carrying a flag saying BAZ AND OGGY’S BARMY ARMY. At one point, the screens either side of the stage focus on a middle-aged gentleman in the crowd, possibly there early for Jeremy Corbyn, who looks like he’s the Craig David experience is causing him to lose the willl to live, but everyone else seems to absolutely adore him.
It Wasn’t Me!