After what has been a monumental and dramatic fortnight for Glastonbury festival, a fitting climax was being prepared as photos of The Libertines in helicopters making their way to Somerset emerged. It was grand, savoury and the ‘name’ that folks were craving once the Foo Fighters dropped out.

Their iconic banner rears its head and is met by a roar from one of the largest crowds of the weekend. The anticipation, is all too much for some, and we hear the scream of ‘you should’ve been headlining!’

The quartet emerge, and you can hear the applause from the Park Stage. However, as the guitars jangle and the group launches into their opening track, we can feel bitter reality pressing its thumb on our neck. So soon after a sigh of jubilation, we hear the sound of thousands of people remembering, like an unwanted acid flashback from a dark era of British music, that The Libertines are a bit shit.

As men in porky pies take to friends’ shoulders, singing along to “You Can’t Stand Me Now”, you can’t help but feel like the Libertines’ set should be served with thick cut chips and a low grade lager. It’s a small porthole to what the festival would be like if it was curated by the clown who set up the anti-Kanye petition. I have never been at Glastonbury and been so aware that I’m in a field in England. Even the group’s better hits like ‘Time For Heroes’ or ‘What A Waster’ fail to romance or transport the audience to another place: it is just a one way ticket to an era of music that it would be better to forget about.

Bring on Kanye.