Like a lot of re-formed Eighties acts, the Pogues always hit the road around Christmas, when fans are up for a sozzled singalong, and a set of old songs sounds nostalgic, rather than passé. It’s a cash-in, of course, but even after four years with no sign of a new album the Pogues can put up a couple of tinsel-draped trees and sprinkle the stage with fake snow and still steer clear of seasonal cheese.

It probably helps that in their heyday the Pogues were neither a big chart band nor part of a fashionable scene. On the first date of a three-night stint in South London, they sounded surprisingly fresh and feisty. It helped that Shane MacGowan, the group’s talismanic frontman, stumbled on in his usual state of disarray. Had he strode on straight, the spell that keeps his cult status intact would have been instantly broken.

That said, the set opener Streams of Whiskey was not only tightly played by the seven-strong band, it was tightly sung too, with MacGowan coming in right on cue and imbuing the song with an energy that had the crowd clapping, dancing and singing along from the start. If I Fall From Grace had almost audible lyrics and Turkish Song of the Damned even had the singer howling in tune. Then came a moment of panic. Having slumped on to a green Irish flag draped in front of the drums, MacGowan got up, wandered off stage and, two minutes later, had failed to return. A surprised Spider Stacey put down his tin whistle and tried telling jokes and when that fell flat, Terry Jones took over on vocals.

MacGowan returned, pint in hand, for a great Rain Street, but looked lost during White City, hitting his mike stand with one hand and trying — and failing — to catch it with the other. He did a bad robotic dance, then was off again, leaving Stacey to sing Tuesday Morning.

Bizarrely, though, the gig only got better. A MacGowan-fronted Sally MacLennane was superb and Dirty Old Town inspired a singalong. During the first encore the crowd grew crazier, reaching a peak of arm-waving and hugging for an awesome Irish Rover. MacGowan promised that that was it, but of course he was back for Fairytale of New York. He was joined on vocals by Ella Finer, daughter of the band’s banjo player, and as they waltzed through snow drifting from the ceiling, it was hard to imagine a better Christmas gig.

Brixton Academy, tonight; The Point, Dublin, Friday