I CONFESS it was an exciting prospect to see Ms Bassey at the Armadillo (aka Clyde Auditorium), which probably coloured my judgment of ''very special guests'', the Vibrations. A cross between the Gypsy Kings and the Shadows, these swarthy men in puffy satin shirts play live muzak. Not my cup of tea, especially in a state of Shirley expectation.

Then there she was - dressed in a revealing black number, slashed to the thigh, with finely brocaded bodice and the inevitable diamonds dripping from her ears. Perhaps it took our Shirl a couple of numbers to warm up but when she got going she was absolutely fabulous. Obviously most comfortable with the big belter numbers that describe loves lost and personal survival, songs such as You'll See, I Who Have Nothing, and My Life are not sung, but lived and performed as dramas, with clenched fist and gritted teeth, chin defiant to the songs' woe. It's all very life-affirming. Shirley may never have fulfilled her dream of singing with Sinatra but she made My Way her own, bringing a tear to many an eye, including her own.

The inclusion of History Repeating, her chart hit with The Propellerheads, might have seemed risky, but the orchestra brought their own funky arrangement to what should become classic Bassey. I could have done with Goldfinger or Ne Quitte Moi Pas, but we did get glamour, passion, and the voice, which at full flight is extraordinary. She indulged all those who rushed down the aisles with blatant flirting, especially with the boys, because Shirley herself is the spectacle - the pinnacle of unashamed camp personified.