Searching audience members with metal detectors as they file in suggests the authorities are expecting trouble. But the rapper who was once up on a murder charge is perhaps no longer a threat to everything decent and upstanding. These days, Snoop doesn't attract audiences of fiendish gun-toting homies; it's largely teenage girls. The only crowd trouble is people fainting, although there's a moment of terror as one poor young lady is faced with either abandoning a prime position to go to the toilet or peeing on her shoes. She takes the respectable option but doesn't miss a thing as Snoop is very late on, neatly adding to fantasies about the Bad Guy.

It's a curious career trajectory from rap's dark side to a mainstream entertainer with almost as many ghastly films as Elvis. However, Snoop has become expert in delivering gang culture with the nasty bits sent up. His opening numbers tackle murder, drugs and pimping, often at the same time. The devilish charmer generates enormous applause by smoking something that under current UK law is only slightly naughty.

He can deliver suave raps and infectious melodies (many of them inspired by his favoured 1970s soul tunes) in his sleep, and wearing a hip-hop version of a nightshirt, suggests he is doing exactly that. But this slick outing - with excellent renditions of Pimp and Gin and Juice - is a cut above many rap shows. In 70 minutes, there are few breaks, although admittedly there are only so many times "motherfucking Manchester" can put its "motherfucking hands in the air". What's missing is any sense of the man behind the myth, although a tribute to slain pal 2Pac is palpably sincere and perhaps suggests that Snoop diluted his own gangsta rep for his own safety. But when he leaves urging "peace and love" there's a hint that the 33-year-old married man might be maturing into a respectable member of society. Don't tell the schoolgirls.