The culture shock is high for the U.S crowd tonight. Instead of an ambassador from Richard Curtis-land, we appear to have sent a representative from Green Street.
"Let's see some of you industry types down here" front-man Frank Carter proclaimed, obviously disappointed at the somewhat more sterile crowd than he's perhaps used to. "Don't worry about your Blackberries."
Stripped down to his trousers, traipsing through the crowd and swearing with the frequency of a Miley Cyrus photo apology Carter was waging a war against crowd complacency. "I wanna see a circle pit, right now. If you don't do it, I'm gonna come down there. Only I might start throwing some punches."
"Now come on Texas, You can read and write can't you? This is basic geometry. I said a circle: that's a rectangle!"
Carter's efforts were greeted with some measure of success once you got past the sea of photographers, fixated upon his every move, but fitfully trying to avoid the band's water-spit, nose clearances, impromptu stage dives and barb remarks.
Songs were curtailed frequently due to many and varied reasons such as: "I'm bored of this one.", "We've forgotten how to play this", "Ahh, you get the jist, it does that heavy bit a few more times."
What was clear that although they weren't perhaps the best endorsement for a Britain devoid of far-leaning stereotypes, Gallows did cement their fearsome reputation as an unpredictable, energetic, forceful and riveting live presence.