Surprise, surprise, the Glastonbury diary is taking longer than expected. There's loads of great writing about the festival out there in the blogosphere already. Check out It's Wrong To Wish On Space Hardware for the perspective of a fellow hardy festival-goer. As for the accounts of those who enjoyed the goings-on via the medium of the cathode ray tube in the (hopefully) mud-free environment of their own living room, the (as ever) most comprehensive, wittiest and best is on No Rock & Roll Fun: "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?". Plenty more of interest can be found elsewhere, though: try Wisdom Goof, Casino Avenue and Crumbling Loaf for starters, and avoid like the plague the black thoughts of the self-styled "bitter, twisted, maleficient, dolorous, catabatic, blaadekka, fulking, drumheaded gimb-boy" that is He Who Cannot Be Named. He's just jealous.
Movers and shakers: the Godfather of Blog Mike has acquired a hyphen, so you can now read Troubled Diva here; whilst after trials and tribulations of his own, another blogger has returned to the fray under the name Heonlylivestwice at Underground Base Of An Evil Genius.
Elsewhere: Lord Marmite has managed to contain his anger after being "rightsourced" yesterday; Salvadore Vincent is filling in on I Don't Believe It in Jonny B's absence, and making wry observations about the traumas of the postal system; and Kenny's been watching Gus Van Sant's 'Elephant'.
And finally... Pencil takes a look at cocks, quite literally.