We Built This Village On A Trad Arr Tune

Punked-up morris men dancing around Holloway Circus. A Scouse mariachi band tuning their trumpets in a car park. Passers-by wearing Dukla Prague away kits, the odd Barnstoneworth United shirt, even a King of Hi-Vis fluorescent jacket. Tucked into a pocket, a pair of homemade Joy Division oven gloves. Either the world has turned into a Fast Show sketch, or Half Man Half Biscuit are in town for the night.

They may have been going for a grand old 28 years, but Britain's most underrated musical gem haven't lost their appeal as an antidote to the pretentious world of rock & roll. From the moment they take the stage in the packed venue, hundreds are waiting eagerly to hear Nigel Blackwell's opening patter. Lesser frontmen would favour something along the lines of, "Good evening BIRMINGHAM! Are you ready to ROCK?" But that's not the Biscuit way, and never has been; instead, Nigel coughs awkwardly, before announcing to the entire O2 Academy: "The sink's blocked backstage. Dunno how that happened. I don't think we did it. But I'm just saying, whoever's job it is to unblock the sink...yeah, the sink's blocked." And with that, we're straight into opening number A Lilac Harry Quinn; everyone's hollering along to the line "if God had meant for us to work, then I'm sure he would have given us jobs", and it could be 1991 all over again.

In short order, we're treated to the old classic Fucking Hell, It's Fred Titmus, the gloriously silly korfball anthem Joy In Leeuwarden, and middle-class-hippie-baiting favourite Totnes Bickering Fair. More banter from Blackwell between songs, including his views on local TV personality Adrian Chiles ("Voodoo Chiles"), his primary school nickname ("Bakewell Tart") and his first experience of Stafford Service Station ("I wouldn't normally stop there - I'm a Hilton Park man - but, you know, Ken really needed a piss.") When the time comes to offer his thoughts on the city, where most acts would favour words to the effect of "we played last night, and it was awesome, but you guys are WAY better!", Nigel favours telling the truth: "I came here last year when Tranmere played Walsall. I went to the museum and saw the Staffordshire Hoard. Then Tranmere won! Nice day, that was." It's simultaneously quirky, mundane, and utterly sincere, and therein lies the whole joy and appeal of Half Man Half Biscuit.

We get a two-hour set from the band and leave happy. Hopefully a new album won't be too long in coming, and after that another tour; the music industry is pompous enough that it needs to be mocked on a regular basis, and there is no band in the world better at doing that than the Wirral's finest.