O Holy Night, it's Christmas and The Darkness are in town for some festive frolics.  It was exactly a year and four days ago they supported Disturbed at Brixton, where they were pelted with bottles.  Wobbling his arse at the heavy rock crowd "a bit too much" was a brave thing to do but tonight he wobbles it with pride.

Off-key bag-pipes (that drone on for what seems like forever) prepare for the band's arrival.  As the curtain falls, huge explosions erupt before the feet of Justin Hawkins, who stands arms aloft in the air with his hands crossed.  Launching straight into the now legendary instrumental opener, he hogs the spotlight from the first riff, strutting along the edge of the stage, like Jagger only with sackloads of sex appeal.  

The skimpy white jacket he's wearing is stripped off seconds later with the 'flame grilled whopper' creeping above his crotch.  The tightness of his PVC trousers amusingly shows off his own Christmas cracker, leaving many females with a desire to lick his stick of rock – well, two sticks – I am referring to his legs wrapped inside the fluorescent striped flares.

Album opener 'Black Shuck' heralds the first sung of the night, tying straight into 'Growing On Me', which results in a jig from Justin's behind at the point when he shrieks "sleeping in an empty bed".  Other than his rear end revving up, playing the guitar on the back of his shoulders and a couple of star jumps, the head-stands, flexing of muscles and sniffing his armpits are the only things absent from the set-list tonight.  

In their place tacky tinsel line the amps and giant baubels hang off them, proving kitsch is most certainly cool.  Bounding back onto the stage in costume number two (by far the most glamorous) - a sparkly white cat-suit, partially see-through with the back covered in tiny sequins - 'Friday Night' is given a good seeing to with ping-pong balls flying over the heads of the audience.  It gets feet stamping, hands clapping and sure enough, a lot of dancing.  On a Friday night too.

With Justin doing all the verbal squawking, sibling Dan remains silent but sparkles in a silver glittery Thin Lizzy t-shirt and figure-hugging white trousers.  Bassist Frankie still looks like a dodgy smuggler with his handle-bar moustache and bandana, while drummer Ed remains safe behind his drum-kit.

Diversions come in the form of b-side 'Makin' Out' (with the hilarious lyrics "Makin' out, back seat's getting wetter/ Makin' out, I think I'll take off my sweater") and 'Best Of Me'.  The falsetto screams do not disappoint, accelerating on 'Get Your Hands Off My Woman' ("If there are any kids in the audience, cover their ears and seeing as it's possible to lip-read the rude words, put your hands over their eyes too", advises a helpful Justin), 'Stuck In A Rut' and beautifully for 'Love On The Rocks With No Ice'.  Sure enough, the toothsome grinning frontman is hoisted onto the shoulders of a beefy and mean-looking bouncer who proceeds to push the crowd aside like a tidal wave to let him complete his lap of honour. 

"It's fucking Christmas!", Justin reminds us.  So it is - the sound of my ears ringing only confirms it.  It's a fine way to wrap up 2003 and no doubt, it's the icing on the cake for these Lowestoft lads.  Suffolk and good indeed. 
(4/5)

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Photos: Afsheen Shaikh