It takes bottle to play Reading. Fans at the loudest festival on the calendar are famous for pelting bands with lager, or worse. On ­Friday, it was Kings Of Leon who got on the wrong side of the crowd. After a lacklustre set where most of the sound was blown away by gales, singer Caleb Followill berated the audience for being “frozen”.

“We know you’re sick of Kings Of Leon,” he said, looking annoyed. “We’re sick of Kings Of Leon, too.” Then he complained about the cold — further endearing himself to everyone about to spend the night in a wind-lashed tent — and ended with a surly: “F**k you.”

In fairness, though, perhaps their headline slot was misjudged. For once, Reading seemed as much about pop as rock. Without any “heritage” bands on the bill — no Metallica, no Iron Maiden — the tattooed hardcore were in the minority. Instead, there were girls with La Roux hair and boys in fancy dress (pirates, sailors, Smurfs).

It wasn’t the only difference. Recycling points meant the site took a little longer than usual to look like an apocalyptic wasteland. Swooping cameras made many seem more interested in their big screen close-up than in bands. But by Sunday discarded plates of noodles and pyres of rubbish littered the ground. Some things never change.
The first star was Little Boots, who got a reception that said a lot about the vibe of the weekend. Wearing a dress that made her look like a pretty sofa, Victoria Hesketh seemed as surprised as anyone when the entire tent chanted her name.

“He’s hunky, he’s funky, he’s Jack Penate,” whooped the woman introducing bands in the NME tent, clearly under the impression she was at T4 On The Beach. Luckily, dignity was restored by the time Florence And The Machine came on.

Celebrating her birthday, Flo wafted across the stage in a cloud of black chiffon and floated up the rigging in skyscraper boots. Her set was magical.

The “secret” act on Saturday — Led Zeppelin/Foo Fighters supergroup Them Crooked Vultures — was anything but, given they had just played Leeds. A bigger surprise came during Gossip’s set when Beth Ditto passed her mic to a fan for Standing In The Way Of Control. It was a true Susan Boyle moment. Patrick Wolf vomited on stage, his delicate constitution no doubt upset by festival cuisine that included foot-long hotdogs.

Arctic Monkeys defied all natural laws by playing an album that had only been out five days, and still getting a rave reception. Radiohead were epic, with a spectacular light show, although drum&bass bozos Chase & Status also went down well, proving that at this lager-fuelled weekend, beauty really is in the eye of the beer-holder.