When Robin Hood (allegedly) took on the Sheriff of Nottingham and the County's aristocracy some 700+ years ago, he probably wouldn't have bargained for 2000 people singing "Don't give me love, I want none of that stuff cos it's your MONEY I'M AFTER BABY!".

Likewise, when Miles Hunt and his Wonder Stuff were champions of the luvvy circuit and hamming it up with Vic Reeves at the turn of the last decade, it's highly unlikely that even a man of his undoubted self-belief would have expected this kind of fanaticism ten years after their supposed sell-by date.

Remember, The Wonder Stuff stopped making records just as Britpop was in its infancy, so the subsequent ascendancy of Oasis, Travis, Coldplay et al (not to mention the numerous passing fads) should have consigned their Black Country fraggle rock to a long forgotten history book. Yet despite an ever-changing world of fashion and the abhorrent glut of stigma that goes with it, I bet there's nobody reading this who's been out on a Saturday night and not spilt the odd pint of Strongbow bouncing around to one of their songs.

Whether they be the "big hits" - the aforementioned Reeves collaboration 'Dizzy' or 'Size Of A Cow' - neither of which gets an airing tonight, or the delightful 'Welcome To The Cheapseats', which for four whole minutes actually provides a legitimate argument why fiddle solos should be allowed on pop records, The Wonder Stuff have always sounded equally at home whether it be in an indie club or a Yates' Wine Lodge.

Which probably explains the distinct mix of dreadheads in battered Pop Will Eat Itself t-shirts, Liam-coiffeured indie boys, several of Avril's slightly older sisters and a smidgen of Stone Island beerboys.

And so onto the songs, all stompathon classics the lot of 'em.

'Poison' and 'Ten Trenches Deep' melt The Darkness' spandex trousers down to rubber bands and then flick them at young pretenders like InMe for pleasure, while the alluring 'On The Ropes' and 'Caught In My Shadow' carry a predominant swagger that suggests Noddy Holder wasn't the only all-conquering bolshy bard of Wolverhampton after all.

When Miles Hunt sings "I wish you were here" at the start of 'Wish Away' and then dedicates 'Piece Of Sky' to the late Bob Jones (aka "Bass Thing"), I swear the poignantometer just turned the sky grey.

'Circle Square' and 'Unbearable' are reminders of a time when it was a major achievement for an "indie"(God I HATE that word) band to get into the lower reaches of the Top 40, while the esoteric mantra 'Song Without An End' bursts The Warlocks' veins from the inside and releases a deadly cocktail of Marston's bitter and blackcurrant to soften the blow.

If Robin Hood's spectre was hovering over Sherwood Forest this evening, he'd surely have reached the same conclusion as me - that The Wonder Stuff are one of the most criminally underrated bands of the last twenty years, and when they finally return for a full-blown tour at the end of the year, it would be sacrilege not to pay homage one last time.