CLUMSY old Dave Grohl, eh?

His band Foo Fighters are on a high, and sold out Wembley shows and a headline slot at Glastonbury are looming.

So what does this veteran of more than 20 years in the eye of the rock 'n' roll storm do?

He plummets (or does one need to fall further than 12 feet to 'plummet'?) off the stage at the Ullevi Stadium, in Gothenburg, Sweden, just two songs into Foo Fighters' set.

The result? A broken right fibula - snapped clean through, ugh - six metal screws inserted as part of the treatment.

And, despite Grohl's initial insistence that the remainder of the band's tour must be completed with him sitting down or propped up or whatever it takes, the cancellation of a series of planned shows, including the appearance at Glastonbury, is then announced.

OK accidents happen, but really someone who has racked up so many years' experience of treading the boards should by now have at least a rudimentary idea of the dimensions of various stages, be they small, medium or large.

That sort of attention to detail is surely the least one should expect from someone who so enthusiastically flings themselves around the stage every time the band performs?

Like I said, you're clumsy Dave, very clumsy - and though I have looked again and winced at the x-ray of the aforementioned broken fibula, published in the aftermath of the show cancellations, I find it difficult to be in complete sympathy.

The reason? Florence & The Machine.

The latter act will be replacing Foo Fighters in the coveted opening headline slot at Glastonbury next Friday evening, and as a consequence the grumpy teenager rating in our house has increased a thousand-fold.

My 19-year-old son has been looking forward to Glastonbury for months and the thought of seeing Foo Fighters has helped him through endless hours of A-Levels revision.

When the other two headliners are Kanye West - of whose music he can hardly be called a fan - and The Who, admittedly legends but as he pointed out when they were announced as the festival's Sunday headliners "they're older than my dad!" then it is clear why Foo Fighters were his number one must-see.

At first, he wasn't overly concerned by Grohl's fall, as the evergreen 46-year-old announced his intention to soldier on, but after the cancellation, he fell to speculating about replacements.

His mum didn't help matters by suggesting that Neil Diamond might fill the void, and though my declaration that Blur would make ideal replacements was better received, it was clear that whoever the stand-in would be, hopes had been dashed.

Then he raised his head from his mobile phone earlier this week to state glumly "its Florence & The Machine." Such was his disgust, he might as well have declared he had trodden in something disagreeable while out walking the dog.

I can see his point. While I find it hard to raise any gut-level objection to Florrie's blustery hippy-indie noise, I can't summon up any enthusiasm either.

Doubtless she will go down a storm but in our house at least, her appearance has already assumed the status of a damp squib.

Though the festival must go on, and I'm sure that the downing of a few cans of cheap lager and a scandalously-overpriced steak sandwich when he's arrived at Glastonbury will change my son's mood for the better, it's hard not to feel some of his disappointment.

One small consolation is that Grohl and co were looking forward so much to performing at Glastonbury that it is a pretty good bet they'll be back next year to fulfil their obligations.

As Grohl declared to the Gothenburg crowd in the seconds after his fall, "I’m going to fix my leg and then I’m going to come back" and he did just that, completing that show before medical advice and common sense took over. Clearly this is a man who does not give up easily.

To misquote the lyrics of a Foo Fighters' favourite: "It's times like these you learn to walk again."

In the meantime, it's churlish not to wish Grohl all the best for his recovery so, break a leg Dave... oh, you already have.