The Footsteps of a Rag Doll Dance

If Sharon Osbourne were infected by a zombie, then coerced into being an extra in a Blade Runner re-make, she wouldn't look too dissimilar to Siouxsie Sioux on stage last night. The crowd of pierced bikers, skinny goths, pervy IT managers and butch lesbians certainly made us feel we had stumbled upon something futuristic and decadent. How beautiful to see so many people making an effort: black suspenders, bowler hats, shiny tattoos and clumsy hands up in the air when the heroine came on stage.

It's unfair to compare Siouxsie to Sharon - they only share a closeness in age and a predilection for a swearword. In truth, Siouxsie is a million times cooler, with her cobweb hair that melts an hour later from too much sweat and flicking; her shiny metallic outfit that clings to her lithe body as she high-kicks through "Hong Kong Garden" or "Spellbound"; her smoker voice that croaks through two classics at the start then warms up to a full-blown roar and a demand we stop staring and start moving.

But here's a mistake she made: she shouldn't have started with four strong, heavy songs, then drifted into a mid-set filled with slow, sleepy numbers. It should have been a mixture of classics with new songs, with only one or two slow numbers thrown in. She came back for two encores, one of the songs being a Doors cover, "Hello, I Love You." Before she left us for good, she asked if anyone knew the rugby result. I didn't hear the answer. And with a hand wave, she was gone.