Though it brought out the chaos-savouring beast in The Clash, many of those thousand or so young punks, jostling, spitting and often fighting, seemed like a manifestation of the tabloid press' s shock-horror reports. Support band Model Mania were pelted with spittle and beer cans, necessitating a plea for peace from Strummer, watching horrified in the wings before jumping into the mosh pit. Then French female band The Lous got the same, prodding Topper to come on and clobber the worst culprits with a mic stand. By then, police were in the building while ambulance crews tended to blood-soaked punters.

Backstage, Joe wrapped his traditional 'strum-guard' around his arm in gaffa tape, contemplating doing the same all over for protection. From the moment they launched into Complete Control, it was obvious this was going to be one of those supercharged special gigs which spurred The Clash into becoming the most exciting band on the planet. Its members seemed oblivious to the cans that continued to rain around them, Strummer contorted like a man possessed.

'Here' s another new song you won' t like, it' s called Last Gang In Town,' he growled. A full-but-opened can of beer whizzed past his ear, depositing its frothy contents over the already foamy stage. (I know, I was standing in it.)

After more new songs, including Tommy Gun, English Civil War and Guns On The Roof, and some recent singles, the fireworks soared several notches with Janie Jones and Garageland, as limp crowd victims were carried out. Topper crashed through his snare skin, Joe dropped his guitar, Paul ripped strings off his bass, while Mick ran about with a devilish grin on his face. The power Strummer held over the crowd that night was frightening. If he' d told them to burn down Dunstable, they probably would have. He started Career Opportunities as a gentle, unaccompanied ballad, the crowd taking it up terrace-style, before the group crashes in. Predictably, White Riot broke what' s left of the dam, around 100 punters suddenly appearing on stage. Mick and Paul could only climb on the drum riser, guitars held aloft, while the crowd really did start a riot of its own. Joe joined them, beaming with delight as they momentarily bask in one of the most unbridled, no-holds-barred, fuck-the-consequences rock' n' roll moments I' ve ever witnessed. Afterwards, as Mick bathed a can-gouge in his cheek, the hall resembled a battlefield; another venue about to ban punk.

"We just wanted to keep our hand in," said Mick Jones. "There's a lot of people in Luton and Dunstable who wanted to see us.

The Queensway Hall itself is a coliseum-like oval ballroom. The Sex Pistols - The Jam, would you believe once played by- before 70 people at the same place. Tonight it's packed. A top heavy punk audience.

The bar at the back of the hall is stocked with no glasses - plastic or otherwise - just those long, economy size ring pull cans. A ludicrously naive move on the part of the hall management.

The first band, Birmingham's Modelmania, come and go. By their third number, the sporadic can starts flying towards the stage. The situation gets worse until, after the set, the road crew face a struggle to shift the gear offstage against a torrent of cans.

Joe Strummer walks onstage to cheers and makes a worthy effort to calm down the fans as a can bounces off his head. Joe steps into the swelling mass at the front of the crowd and a kid who a moment earlier had aimed a can at a roadie rushes up and vigorously shakes his hand.

Just when it seems things are cooling down, the worst scenes of the evening begin.

Female French quartet The Lous take the stage. On their night,The Lous are a great little band. They play bouncy, rocking rhythm `n blues, and enjoy it like no-one else around. On the last full Clash tour, they surprised a lot of people by their tough resilience to life on the road

Tonight, they don't stand a chance.

Dunstable? To The Lous it was more like Dunkirk.

The cans and spit rain onstage. Rhythm guitarist Raphaele shouts something incomprehensible at the audience. But The Lous' main problem ain't one of communication . Some of the things going down in that crowd would disgrace Inter Milan verses Lazio.

"Here, why did you throw that can?

"Cos they're crap, that's why.!"

If this is audience participation, count me out.

Drummer Sacha - the Lou with the best English - braveIy steps out from behind her kit to the front of the stage and tries to reason with the audience. We witness the sickening sight of a can striking her full in the face.

In their second song. "No Escape' (all too appropriate), they have no choice but to leave the stage. They don't come back.

An incensed roadie swings a steel mike stand above the heads of the front three rows. I later learn he is Steve English, former Pistols bodyguard. Next it is the turn of Mick Jones and Paul Simonon to try their hand at cooling down the loonies. They are met with cries of "We Want The Clash."

You lot hardly deserve them.

Anarchy in the Queensway Hall. A White Riot. A mindless one.

The lights go up. The promoter tells everyone that the gig is cancelled. But The Clash, above all else, are about playing, and minutes later they take the stage.

"We've just come to play some rock n roll," shouts Mick, and the band are into "Complete Control". A crazed "London/Dunstable's Burning", which used to be the show opener, follows.

A funky drum intro from Topper, and Mick Jones takes over vocals for the old 101'ers song "Clang Clang (Go The Jail Guitar Doors)". Then it's "Clash City Rockers", the forthcoming single (with The Blue Oyster Cult's man Sandy Pearlman as a likely producer scoopfreaks)

Joe's vocals are as hard to mix as ever, helped by the echo on the PA, but what hits you is the overall intensity of the performance.

It was as if they'd rediscovered themselves after the poncing and posing of the last tour - adverse conditions bringing out the best in the band.

Two new songs were previewed: "The Last Gang In Town", and a staccato two-minute gem called "Tommy Gun", in which Topper's mean kitwork took him right through his snaredrum, and finally buried the ghost of Terry Chimes.

They played it a bit safe by leaving out the two finest - but unfamiliar - of the newer songs, namely "The Prisoner" and "White Man In Hammersmith Palais" . But the vitality and noise of the Harlesden gig, the I00 Club and the ICA was there again for the first time in months . . Aaa'h,

The audience now had what they wanted - indeed, they were won over from the first song. Even "Career Opportunities" - a song The Clash should now drop as fast as they dumped " 1977" - was touching. Strummer leading the crowd unaccompanied through the first verse before the rest of the band joined in.

Yet even now the can - throwing hordes are giving a new meaning to Heavy Metal. The cans, now squashed flat into lethal weapons, continue to drizzle stagewards, and Mick Jones is bloodied on the cheek by one.

A popgoing mass invades the stage for the swift encore and then The Clash are gone. after facing an audience from which most rock ‘n' roll bands would have run a mile.

Their heads are still well above the waves.

ADRIAN THRILLS