She insulted George Bush, simulated sex and suspended herself from a giant mirrored crucifix, head adorned with a designer crown of thorns (provided by Cotter Church Supplies, LA) in an all-out attempt to get someone, anyone out there, riled. Before one can go further, mention must be made of her body - the most amazing feat of engineering since the Golden Gate Bridge.

The show, a mixture of old hits plus numbers from her last album, Confessions On A Dance Floor, was split into four themes, starting with the Equestrian Section.... Proving she has no ill effects from last year's fall from a horse, images of Madonna, riding crop in hand, and horses cantering across windswept plains were played on big screens for her first number, Future Lovers, looking like a kinkier version of a Lloyds TSB ad. And as Madonna appeared in vaguely horsey black bondage gear, a group of male dancers crawled around, leather bits in their mouths, simulating, one assumes, the movements of horses.

So far, so very S&M. Dressed in black Jean Paul Gaultier trousers and lacy blouse, Madge didn't take long to whip out her suggestive groin movements to the big screen accompaniment of her writhing on the floor, showing off her well-honed physique. Well, if you spent three hours a day exercising, doing Ashtanga yoga, weight training and cycling, you'd want everyone to see your body too. But she gave the insurance men palpitations by clambering on to a motorised saddle high above the crowds in Yves St Laurent highheeled boots while hanging on to her microphone and performing simultaneous acrobatics.

*****

Next, a montage of world leaders was flashed up as Madge sang: "I've listened to your lies", images including Nixon, Pinochet, Hitler and Blair. But Madonna had bigger fish to fry, in the shape of George Bush. She urged fans to perform a certain sexual act on the President. More writhing around on the floor and simulated sex ensued for her rendition of Let It Will Be. By now she looked a bit tired. And no wonder. A boundlessly energetic performance over two hours with seven costume changes would tax someone half her age. Indeed, one worried what effect such gyrations would have on her convalescence from a recent hernia operation. She exhorted us to sing along. But few did. A visibly irked Madonna screamed: "Come on you lazy mother******s! Sing!" The show ended - rather abruptly - with no encore and with the lights immediately going on, leaving us all looking at one another in a slightly embarrassed fashion, as though we'd just been caught doing something we shouldn't have been.