Glastonbury, one might reasonably conclude, is a little like Crimbo: the trains are a nightmare, the weather's always crap - and its forced sense of fun can be as anti-climactic as Amy Winehouse sucking on a banana smoothie.

So hotfoot it instead to a festival in the Big Smoke that's so rock 'n' roll even Alex James' lambs are up for a spit roast. Yuck. No really, this year's Taste of London, with its beer tastings, food fights and, um, plethora of rude words (thanks to Gordon and his 'F' Word Live), makes dear old Glasto look, like Dame Shirley herself, a little old hat.

And if Mr James' lambs leave you bleating at the indignity, then, like all true rock 'n' rollers, hit the beer tent for a boozy masterclass - and insider tips from Leffe's top sommelier.

Feeling a bit agro after a pint or two? Vent it at the "Chefs V Critics" fight, in which the likes of Locatelli and Parker-Bowles slog it out - all for charidee of course - in cake-fuelled culinary warfare.