There's a whiff of religious fervour in the main concert hall tonight.

You can feel it among the audience. You can see it in the wholesome support band One World.

Three young female vocalists gamely take on harmony pop staples such as Horse with no name and I'd like to Teach the World to Sing and lose.

They are replaced by the sassy backing singers who rattle through a collection of soul and disco classics with more confidence, raunch and vim. It's the crucial difference between women and girls.

Its also the juxtaposition of the sacred and the secular the collision which creates soul music. To prove the point, when O'Neal's band take the stage they are all dressed in white.

These young guns look hip and play tight, providing the right blend of professionalism and enthusiasm which cannot help but bring out the best in O'Neal.

Then the big man himself appears, In the attire of the modern dark-suited preacher with a white towel in hand; with which he mops his sweating brow.

For a big fella, Alexander is nimble and quick. He may be notching up his half century on this planet but his posture and athleticism is a testament to his days as a college sports star.

Despite having a new single and album (out this week), the accent is purely on nostalgia this evening, but one heavy in irony and good humour.

He immediately establishes a rapport with the crowd, picking out folks he has bumped into. He ventures into the audience shaking hands and dispensing kisses, and in a memorable moment shares a hug with a large female fan. A sweet moment.

He admonishes another member of the audience to which a wag shouts out "Don't you criticize!"O'Neal's laughter fills the hall.

Back on stage, his attempts to speak in a cockney accent are hilarious and cannot be repeated in a family newspaper!

As are digs at Al Jarreau, James Brown and Victoria Station only 30 minutes from Croydon' he chirrups!

Then the crowning glory the legendary motorised bed is wheeeled on stage and he plucks one lucky lady to join him. He is in turn camp, romantic, sincere then comical.

She leaves with a glass of champagne and a single red rose.

Then the finale. Following a stomping version of Criticize, he invites the audience on stage for Fake. It's like the ultimate family house party on stage as he grooves with his fans including a couple of tiny girls.

The congregation have invaded the pulpit and a higher connection has been made.

He leaves the party while the band play on and the audience dance on.

No encore given. No encore neccesary. This is as good as it gets.