Did Glastonbury love Corbyn as much as it loved pirates in 2007?

I saw him — the loneliest man at Glastonbury. He was wearing a neon-green Hawaiian shirt, and he was next to a stall selling baguettes, and he was standing on a path facing a stage, and he was screaming that Jeremy Corbyn was a cunt.

This was not, actually, a stage that had Corbyn on it. His speech was being shown on the giant screens, yes, but only as a prelude to the Kaiser Chiefs. Possibly the man in the Hawaiian shirt didn’t know this. ‘You lost the election, you wanker!’ he shouted, and ‘Get the fuck out my life!’ and ‘IRA sympathiser!’ and ‘Hezbollah lover!’ and so on. He seemed, I thought, rather well informed. Despite being in the wrong place.

Most popular

Matthew Lynn

Spain will regret its 100 per cent expat property tax

Most people pretended he wasn’t there. He was an embarrassment — a terrible, disfigured thing at which one did not wish to stare.