Non-sleepover festivals are like one-night stands. Whereas tent-pitching affairs force one to become intimately acquainted with fellow revellers' toilet habits, day-long bonanzas are emotionally unattached, semi-soulless, no-strings fun from which you can taxi home to the promise of a nice hot bath. So, for the atmosphere to match the footloose fancy freedom of sleepover festivals, performers must ooze cheek and charm. And there's nothing cheekier than an O2 Wireless headliner holding a big beach rave in the middle of London town.

Blessedly, Brighton's most illustrious DJ, Norman Cook, didn't cart sand, seagulls and lifeguards into Hyde Park. Instead, the diamond geezer better known as Fatboy Slim put on his Hawaiian shirt and let the music do the talking, whisking in remixed amalgamations of his own big beats and handpicked nuggets from artists including the Rolling Stones, Arcade Fire, Beyoncé and Cream.

Following Friday's rockier, more sombre affair ( antifolkster Emmy The Great, epic indie-rock from The National, rants about burgers from Morrissey) Saturday's ticket holders wanted a party. Bootsy Collins staged a bootybumping James Brown tribute, Underworld's tent nearly ruptured to Born Slippy, Neon Neon and Har Mar Superstar offered wry lunacy and Robyn's camp Scandipop rekindled our love for musical Swedes. And the main event. Cook's platters whizzed and whirred under sizzling visuals as opener Praise You came skipping in over a deliciously daft rejigging of the Willy Wonka theme. "Fatboy Slim, just a band," sang Scroobius Pip on a Cooked version of Pip's Thou Shalt Always Kill while Cook giggled and clapped. He may be just a DJ but to 30,000 dance nuts jumping around to House Of Pain in Queen Lizzie's garden, he was a right royal genius.