This weekend The Saturdays joined the mob of beauties covered in flowers that stormed V Festival. The atmosphere was heavy with the weight of hot women and thick with the sweet stench of rejection.

Obviously we worship the Saturdays, so their presence in hot pants was greatly appreciated. And even better is that you could be shaking it like a Polaroid picture in a drunken haze and The Saturdays would still just form a blur of deliciousness.

Rochelle got up on stage and was all like ‘uh we can actually sing, yeah’ because they’re all sick and tired of people (not us) moaning and girl bands not doing enough singing (Ashlee Simpson how could you). So they did actually sing and do some other fantastic things like jigging about in hot pants. Frankie even sacked off the hot pants and just wore the gusset of a pair of tights.

Off stage they didn’t have such a great time. Frankie ’s boyfriend bloody Wayne bloody Bridge got Frankie and the girls kicked off the main stage where they were watching Rihanna. He was being a bloody hooligan and tried drunkenly scaling the stage to join them. In his attempt to put together a hot lady jigsaw, the bouncers chucked the lot of them off the stage. Oh Waaaaaaaayne.

Although to be fair, if there was even the dimmest chance we could wedge ourselves geographically somewhere between all of The Saturdays and Rihanna we would happily sacrifice a minor non-genital body part.

Poor old Mollie King had problems of her own in VIP as her boyf , woman-nip and all round (legitimately) smug chap, David Gandy was hanging out with his ex squeeze FHM cover girl Laura Whitmore who is also ridiculously hot and Irish.

What on earth could these beautiful women be seeing in him?


Oh right, OK then.