As DiS skips merrily to our top notch seats. The tannoy announces that “the artist tonight has requested that missiles must not be thrown during their performance”. Wouldn’t dream of it, mate.

We look as grumpy as possible during new boyband V’s ‘set’. No, that’s not Vs, who Simon from Blue is managing, it’s V. They are five northern boys who aren’t very pretty and who dance out of sync with each other. Make room! Make room! Fortunately they’re not all bad, with their last two songs met with deafening screams (actually, their whole set was met with deafening screams) – the first being a pleasing ballad, which Westlife could’ve done with pulling out of the hat a long time ago, and the last being their debut single. The single is an ‘upbeat’ ‘number’ with a hint of George Michael’s ‘Freedom’ to it. It’s kinda catchy and annoying, and they have the personality to pull it off. They look like they aspire to be Five, but they’re not as good.

Now we get to the good stuff. McFly - the newest in a long line of bands called McFly but the ones with the most money – are four nippers who, if you’ve managed to avoid all publicity thus far, are mates with Busted. One of the mainmen, Tom (the one who looks like a less ugly young Gary Barlow), initially auditioned for Busted but lost out to Charlie. Busted’s management put him in touch with two other young musicians on their roster, the slightly posh drummer (yes, drummer) was later found from an ad, and McFly was born.

Now you are suitably briefed with the history of McFly, let us get overexcited and tell you what they sound like. Excuse me for getting all girlie like but OH MY GOD! Whoever may write them (supposedly Tom, and James Busted – mmm, itchy chin) is beside the point: McFly’s songs are simple, three-minute, well-crafted nuggets, brilliantly ripping off everything from The Beatles to, er, Oasis (DiS’ grumpy photographer-with-faulty-battery companion noticed ‘Stop Cryin’ Your Heart Out’ in one song). They have the British ‘60s pop sound down to a tee, except they wear so-cal gear rather than suits.

Forthcoming debut single ‘5 Colours In Her Hair’ is basically a sped up version of The Wonders/Adam Schlesinger’s ‘60s pastiche ‘That Thing You Do!’ (another Fountains of Wayne reference on DiS. Well done, Nunn). It has surf guitar. It has a super middle eight. It is ace. Even better is ‘Unsaid Things’, which breaks into some nice Beach Boys type harmonies. S’all good, but they’re only on for five songs, and it’s doubtful they have enough great material for a truly great album yet.

All this time in-between bands there’s been compilation videos and “V TV” (spoof ads, actually quite funny). The girls have been screaming every time a clip of Busted comes on. I’m feeling left out, as I do not wish to shag any of them (Busted that is. Or the girls, for that matter).

After a flying-through-space intro looking like it’s more suited to ‘Dark Side Of The Moon’, the three Busted boys shoot up through the stage with a big explosion. You don't get THAT down at the Bull & Gate, do you?

Important clothing check first: Charlie is wearing a Victory Records tee, James in a white Blink 182 tee, and Matt in a black Fred Perry top.

‘Air Hostess’ is greeting with yet more screaming and singing. They play… a bunch of other songs. Look, you know what they’re going to be – all the singles, plus album tracks. But what is this? Why, it’s ‘Teenage Kicks’! Yes ladies and gentlemen, this is the novelty section of the show where The Dads can sing along! And there are a lot of parents here with their kids. A LOT. To make it really obvious he’s not out to try and shag the band too, one man even helpfully has “I’m The Daddy” painted on his shirt (hmm, that could have all manner of meanings).

The aforementioned Undertones classic is a mess. It’s usually the same when played by any pub rock band. There’s probably a band playing it at a gig or rehearsing it as you read this right now. Balls to obvious covers, as Busted have something better up their sleeve. The fellow ‘Who’s David’ (SCREAM!) B-side gets an airing too – a cheerfully punky version of Black Eyed Peas’ ‘Where Is The Love’, played much more brilliantly than most punk covers of its ilk. Oh, and Charlie played drums. Woo!

As far as a stage show by a pop-come-rock band goes, it really can’t be faulted. The session musicians (oo-er) and their loyal drummer (yes, drummer) are tucked away at the back; Charlie gets to play a sorta solo song without the other two running around behind him, making fools of themselves; Matt gets to make an utter, utter, utter tit of himself and his boyband ambitions as he turns into a whirling dervish to perform a dreadful song co-written with Gareth Chambers – it was car crash ‘entertainment’, my friend; there is a drum playoff with Charlie (whose drums didn’t appear to be mic’d) and the regular drummer; Matt wasn’t allowed a bass solo; James said “boobies” a few times and moonwalked; Matt shows why he’s the one all the dirty older women want when he introduces ‘Fake’ with “this is NOT about a real life experience and it’s something we’re all VERY good at really!”. Good all round then. Sorta.

Where they unfortunately fall flat on their arse are the sheer number of Blink 182-lite songs they possess. It doesn’t help that most of them SOUND THE SAME and are played at the SAME PACE, and it gets a bit weary trying to keep up with where they’re running to onstage. The pacing of the setlist, however, is almost immaculate. Saving up three No. 1 hits for the encore was the only bizarre move, as a number of people were leaving to get picked up by their parents or just avoid the mass of 12,000 bodies trying to leave the building and flooding the tube.

I almost bought a bootleg T-shirt.

But they didn’t have any McFly ones.