Manchester's Throwing Stuff kicked things off with a set of short, sloppy, none-too-serious 80s-style hardcore. Lead singer Ben Small bridged the gap between band and slightly standoffish crowd by stomping around the floor, yelling into the microphone as if his life depended on it. The 9-to-5 disaffection of "Steve's Job" stood out, as did their sped up cover of Joni Mitchells's "Big Yellow Taxi", which raised a chuckle if only for the Anglicisation of the lyrics (they put up a car park rather than a parking lot, and the tree museum costs a couple of quid not a dollar and a half). And they won brownie points for their "Not My Chancellor of the Exchequer" t-shirts, emblazoned with George Osborne's punchably smug face, parodying Fat Wreck's George W. Bush-era "Not My President" design.

The magnificently bearded English singer songwriter Sam Russo was up next, his well-crafted acoustic storytelling a marked contrast to what went before. He seems to rarely be off the road, and while the songs on 2012's Storm sound great on record, they really shine in a live setting. His set was rarely upbeat but never less than entertaining. "Holding On" was melancholy but never mopey, with "Dry Shampoo" another obvious highlight. "Arguably the UK's best singer songwriter", says the label bio, and it's hard to disagree. Plenty for fans of John K. Samson or any of the Revival Tour regulars to enjoy.

Glasgow's own Murderburgers got the hometown crowd moving again with a set drawn largely from last year's solid full length These Are Only Problems. Their set kicked off, as the record does, with the one-two punch of "Another Way Out Of Here" (sample lyric: "I'm just trying to find a way out that doesn't involve tying a noose and kicking a chair") and "Everything Is Muted And Brown". Things rarely let up, even when singer Fraser's voice started to go towards the end. Their influences are fairly obvious and they fit neatly alongside hooky self-loathing punks like Dear Landlord and Off With Their Heads, but with a Scottish charm all their own.

Then it was time for the main event. Masked Intruder hit the stage and tore into "Stick 'Em Up", which immediately got the crowd dancing and singing along. They ran through four or five tracks from their self-titled debut album, separated only by a curt "Cool" from Intruder Blue, before blasting into "I Fought The Law" from this year's M.I.. Officer Bradford, who until then had been watching the band disapprovingly from the stage, at one point describing their performance as "mediocre", took the opportunity to come forward and break some heads in the front row.

Discounting the intro, they played all but one song from the self-titled record, and about two thirds of M.I.. While some have accused the band of sounding overly saccharine on record (it's pop punk, what do these people expect?), they do have a slightly rougher edge live, without sacrificing any of their sweet hookiness. It's hard to pick out highlights from an hour of non-stop singalong fun, but the Nerf Herder-esque "Weirdo" and the blink-and-you'll-miss-it Ramones-aping "Hey Girl" deserve a mention, and they pulled off the doo-wop harmonies on "I Wish You Were Mine" with aplomb. They delved into their back catalogue for "ADT Security", and the two girls brought on stage to sing the female part in "Heart Shaped Guitar" did a surprisingly good job. They also threw in a cover of the NOFX classic "Linoleum", which the crowd went crazy for.

Blue's banter was predictable but amusing, and behind the gimmick the band were pretty tight. But Officer Bradford's antics really made the show memorable. He came down into the crowd to dance with anyone that wanted to, and some that didn't, before getting back on stage to do press ups while Blue sat on his back during a solo. He climbed on the bar, carried people around on his shoulders, and ended the show sweat-soaked and stripped to his boxers, at which point no one really wanted to dance with him any more. Who knows if Masked Intruder's schtick can sustain a third full-length, but their live show remains a stupidly fun night out, as demonstrated by the grins plastered on the crowd's faces as they left.