On a Saturday night at Glastonbury, with The Streets as your soundtrack, the possibilities are endless. Words: Dan Harrison. Photos: Patrick Gunning.

Mike Skinner and The Streets were always more than capable of delivering a set that would go down in Glastonbury lore. From the moment Skinner saunters onto the stage, his casual demeanour belies the chaos about to unfold. Within minutes, the crowd is a seething mass of energy, with Skinner as the maestro conducting a symphony of controlled mayhem.

The setlist is a journey through two decades of the kind of modern, relatable poetry that connects like little else. From the early days of 'Let's Push Things Forward' onwards, each feels like a time capsule, yet somehow more relevant than ever. Skinner's lyrics, always a blend of sharp observation and wry humour, take on new life in the festival setting.

But it isn't just about the music. Skinner's interactions with the crowd is a masterclass in festival performance. He climbs shoulders, hunts down flags, and even attempts to organise the post-gig exodus.

His genuine appreciation for the audience is palpable, creating a feedback loop of energy that keeps building throughout the set. As the final notes fade, there's a palpable sense that something special has just occurred. Mike Skinner has created a moment - a shared experience that encapsulated the very essence of the festival.

With the sun setting and the night still young, he leaves the crowd buzzing with possibility. After all, on a Saturday night at Glastonbury, with The Streets as your soundtrack, the possibilities are endless.