I was never much of a fan of the band Police, whose rapid rise to fame in the late 1970s coincided with my realisation that I was getting too old for pop music - new varieties of it, at any rate. Thirty exceeds the age at which one can stand with dignity amid a crowd of teenyboppers applauding the latest rock sensation. That said, I was happy enough to hum along with Police hits when I heard them on the radio. I particularly liked So Lonely, which always sounded like a hymn of praise to the then Nationwide presenter Sue Lawley. A friend also gave me their single Message in a Bottle, thinking (wrongly as it turned out) that I might like it.

The pictures on the page coincide with the release of that record in September 1979. The main photograph shows the members of the band signing copies of it on a visit to a record shop, now long closed, at the south end of Oxford's High Street. They are, from the left, drummer Stewart Copeland, singer Sting and guitarist Andy Summers. The picture beneath shows Sting outside the shop, with the unmistakable face of The Oxford Times's former motoring editor, Roy Cooper, peering out from behind him.

Curious to know what he remembered of the occasion, I contacted Roy who has now retired to life of sun and leisure in Crete. He emailed me: "It was a punk rock record shop. Loads of fans turned up, queuing all the way up the High Street to meet the band. The news desk sent me to do a piece and off I went on my trusty motorbike. I got to meet Sting and co, who were quite charming apart from the rather arrogant Stewart Copeland, who ignored all questions and was videoing the whole thing. When they came out of the shop, we wanted a pic of the police (Thames Valley) holding back fans trying to get to Police, if you'll excuse the pun. Copeland was lagging behind and didn't get into the picture at all. In fact, the photo made it look as if I was the third member of the band! Nearest I have ever been to being a rock star."

After the photoshoot, Police went on to perform at the New Theatre. The concert also made news, because of its premature ending following a stage invasion by skinhead 'fans', as the Oxford Mail reported. "Several were hurried off the stage, but soon returned to try the patience of lead singer 'Sting' he still required inverted commas in those days who made several appeals for space. The unrepentant fans were loudly booed and jeered by the rest of the audience. Police the band, that is ended their concert after only an hour and did not return to the stage."

In fact, the stage invaders were not fans at all, indeed very much the opposite. I found this out recently from Andy Summers's excellent autobiography One Train Later, which has just been published by Portrait at £18.99. Here is what he has to say about an unpleasant incident, which I am sure will be remembered by any of my readers who were present that night.

He writes: "Halfway through the show, the doors at the back of the theatre burst open and a gang of about 30 skinheads in black leather, bovver boots and a host of swastika tattoos march in. They come to the front of the theatre and stand in a line below us. After a few minutes they begin chanting, 'Sieg heil, sieg heil,' up at us. By now the auditorium is crackling with tension. Sting takes his life - our life - in his hands and invites them up. All 30 of them mount the steps and come on to the stage with us. Meanwhile, we have never stopped playing. The skins begin pogo-ing all over the stage and turn it into a mosh pit. The curtains close, so now it's just us and them in a small enclosed space. The violence as they smash into one another and crash into the drums and amps is intense, But Sting is from Newcastle and has seen plenty of this stuff before. He takes control of the situation, lets one of them sing into the mic and then basically tells them to f*** off. He's faced them down; they seem to accept it and now, having done their bit, leave the theatre to make a problem somewhere else."

The end of the affair? Not quite, for there is a sequel that was never reported, and probably not known about, at the time. Andy writes: "The promoter of this show is a very tough guy from the East End of London. The following week he visits Oxford with a few friends and delivers divine retribution. 'They're not gonna f*** up my shows,' he says."

Now that's the way to do it . . .