Jamie Foxx has such a rapport with the opposite sex that his show starts with the announcement: "At the request of Mr Foxx, can we have all the ladies up front, please." The way is thus paved for the man himself to swivel on stage, safe in the knowledge that there are no rival alpha males to intercept the pheromones that cloud the air as soon as he appears.
He has only been a headline singing attraction for a few months, but he has already established himself as the man to see when other R&B stars don't cut it in the smuttiness stakes. His UK debut presents him as an insinuating, hip-twitching love god who could accommodate every girl in the room without knocking his porkpie hat askew.
This is the same Foxx whose performance as Ray Charles in the film Ray won the 2005 best actor Oscar, and who, at 38, should theoretically be toning down the pre-coital gasps and squeals. If he did, though, we would be left with one serviceably pleasant voice and a gaggle of tunes - from his million-selling album, Unpredictable - that are more rambling jams than songs. So it's just as well that he seems constantly to be on the verge of ripping off his clothes. It certainly keeps things ticking over.
"Let me kiss your lips between your hips," he croons, plucking a blushing girl from the audience. She turns out to be the rapper Estelle, but her mortified giggles make it clear that she hadn't been expecting this.
His best musical moment is the simmering slow-burner Do What It Do, simply because he weaves in a rough-and-ready bit of Gold Digger, his fantastic collaboration with Kanye West. And then it's over, Foxx exiting jauntily as his wrung-out audience pull themselves together.
