After an evening of binge drinking and campfires, the bleary eyed ladies and gentlemen of this year’s Reading festival are in need of a slap around the face and a poke in the eye, which is the sonic equivalent of what Towers of London (3/5) deliver this morning. The Towers make enough of a racket to pull a significant-size crowd to the main stage, although this is probably more due to fact that the crowd need to find out who ought to shut up. Elsewhere Mumm-ra (3/5) do their best ‘Killers’ impression much to the delight of a surprisingly packed Carling stage.

Meanwhile, back at the main stage the chants are building up into a mighty roar: “Busted! Busted! Busted!”, with the accompaniment of a mild case of bottling. This can only refer to the entrance of Charlie Simpson and his nameless bandmates that make up Fightstar (3/5). Providing the compeering, a dishevelled Charlie explains that he is still pissed from last night’s session as they stumble into a satisfactory rendition of ‘Paint Your Target’. Of course that excuse is so old hat now, especially coming from a posh boy attempting to slip into the rock’n’roll mode, but unable to shake off the boy band tag he’s been surgically nailed to.

The main stage sees its first low point with the arrival of Dashboard Confessional (1/5). Lead singer Chris Carrabba strides on with the air of Dave Gahan: hair slicked back and a pair of dark shades. Unfortunately, he also has the balls and attitude of a limp Care Bear, so except for a small group of screaming girls their set goes largely unnoticed.

As Dashboard trudge through their limp-wristed set, a surge of punters manages to ram itself into an already packed comedy tent to catch ex-Pop World presenter, Simon Amstell (4/5) run through his views on the homeless, Princess Diana and Nectar cards. He is every bit as sharp as you would expect and copes well with the turbulent Reading Festival audience, which is more than can be said for Panic! At the Disco (4/5). Two minutes into their set and Brendon Urie gets pelted with a bottle to the face, causing him to drop limply on the floor. From the dramatic way he collapsed you would expect Brendon to be carted off to Reading A&E but he jumps back into action within five minutes of paramedic attention. With a change of heart, the audience lap up everything Panic! has to give including a convincing cover of Radiohead’s ‘Karma Police’.

Next up, the Subways (4/5) crash into a hit-packed set complete with a side of brand new material. Apparently written on their recent American tour, the new tracks show a more angry Subways. Anger aside, the mass sing-along to ‘Oh yeah’ can be heard all around the festival arena. After the near euphoric set from the Subways, it’s a pity that Fall Out Boy (2/5) have come to piss on our chips (metaphorically of course). In between the done-to-death pop-punk nonsense, bassist, Pete Wentz, can’t stop talking about himself and his recent public tiff with his best friend in the whole wide world. As usual, the remainder of the band manage to take a back seat, until their next track, where Pete will then lend the odd ‘Uuuuuurgh’ sound and, of course, some bass.

Belle and Sebastian (4/5) look widely out of place on today’s pop driven bill, but after the so-amateurish-it-hurts Fall Out Boys, they are a breath of fresh air. The hugely chatty band also manage to incorporate a large amount of audience by grabbing women from the crowd to dance with and apply some slap to lead singer Stuart while running through b-side ‘Anthony the Great’. Ending with a twee ‘I’m a Cuckoo’ the B&S guys underline their indie-pansy status, but at least the crowd reaction confirms that they do it well.

The evening continues with more professionals in the form of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs (5/5). As usual Karen O proves to be off her rocker, with a face full of glitter and a manic grimace that would make Marilyn Manson envious. More than half the set proves that Show Your Bones isn’t as dull as most would whinge about, with ‘Fancy’ and ‘Cheated Hearts’ being particular highlights. And for those whingers, a manic ‘Date with the Night’ shows that Karen and the lads are still as mad as a barrelful of ferrets on crack.

In order to get as much space between myself and the done-to-death Kaiser Chiefs, I make a run for the Carling stage to catch the fantastically sleazy Eagles of Death Metal (5/5). In the absence of Josh Homme, the Eagles bash through most of Death by Sexy with the adoration of the entirety of the marquee; “The neighbours have been complaining about the noise”, exclaims an ecstatically happy Jessie ‘the devil’ Hughes as his set draws to a close, “but nothin’ is going to come between me, you and rock and roll!”. To say the crowd go shit crazy at that point is like saying the Kaiser Chiefs may be overplayed. Tonight, the Eagles leave the chanting crowd as rock gods.

After a run of great bands, it is disappointing tonight’s festivities cumulate with the now standard Franz Ferdinand (3/5). Even though this is their most flashy appearance in terms of production and lighting, it does nothing to distract from their overwhelming normalness, which is confirmed by the lack of anyone watching them. They play the obvious singles and gradually patter out towards the end. Hopefully, they won’t return until they have another unexciting album.