“Just because I’m swearing, that doesn’t mean you’re allowed to,” Sleaford Mods’ vocalist Jason Williamson told the crowd at Concorde 2 with blunt irony, as they hurled affectionate insults at him during a pause between his expletive-riddled rants.

“I haven’t had a drink or taken any drugs today,” he continued wryly, affecting a hurt ego. “This is my job. Don’t spoil it.”

There is actually nothing pretentious about Sleaford Mods. As a man in his 40s Williamson’s been around, building up the rage and despair of a working man in modern Britain, and the anger focused into his lyrics and delivery was extreme and frequently hilarious.

Reminiscent of Johnny Rotten, Jello Biafra or Henry Rollins at their vein-popping best, Williamson has brought the punk vision into focus for the 21st century with shocking energy.

His partner in the band, producer Andrew Fearn, did little on stage except press play on his laptop to deliver the thundering beats over which Williamson delivered his invective.

His participation amounted to shaking his head, mouthing the words and apparently texting friends as the music played. But this contrast with Williamson’s furious intensity contributed to one of the most vital performances I’ve seen in years.

Five stars