The screams that greeted the headliner Noel Fielding could have shattered the stained glass windows of Islington's Union Chapel. In white cowboy boots, tight red jeans and a sparkly scarf, it was a rock’n’roll greeting for a rock’n’roll comic at what was referred to more than once by host, the comic and 6 music DJ Jon Richardson, as a rock’n’roll gig.

Back for a second season, the monthly Live at the Chapel event takes place at soup kitchen, music venue and active church, the Union Chapel. The atmosphere, despite the pews, is relaxed. There's a long-haired funky house band. An over active smoke-machine, disco lights and, for tonight at least, lots of Fielding-inspired silver boots and leg warmers.

Opening was Stephen K. Amos. A supremely relaxed and experienced comedian, he nevertheless saw his travails of a middle-class black man misfire due to the young, liberal audience. 'I am a black man,' he intoned slowly to a twenty-something from Milton Keynes to general silence. He soon got the measure of a Mighty Boosh fan club, however. One lady will definitely regret leaving early for the bar after Amos quipped 'Tsk. Nice silver dress. Sale on at top shop?' And there was a collective, delighted titter as Amos singled out one gentleman who wasn't enjoying the set, "You're 22 and a guitarist in a band. Ooh, not working Saturday night?'

Amos's antagonisms aside, this was an evening characterised by its niceness. MC Jon Richardson needn't have bothered apologising for the fact that he has a high-pitched voice (think chipmunk with a blocked nose), this wasn't a heckling crowd. Dressed in jeans and comfy brown suede slip-ons, Richardson's beta maleness (he's single, lives in Swindon, is tghe proud owner of a privet hedge) is the butt of most of his jokes. “I am aware most men in here could batter me with their eyebrows,” he claimed at one point, which probably meant he couldn't see much due to the smoke machine, as there weren't any tough guys about.

The second act, the sketch comedy troupe Pappy's Fun Club, were a hit at last year's Edinburgh Festival. They like a sing-song and have a great hall of mirrors sketch about undercover journalists over-running hospitals. Too much corpsing at their own hilarity, however, gave them a whiff of the student revue. A minstrel-based joke about unicorns seemed especially lame considering that most of the 800 or so people were there for a comic who has made a career out of his love for a certain horned mythical creature.

There were in fact no unicorns in Fielding's act. Constantly mussing his hair and rubbing his eyes, he didn't appear to be lying when he said that he now regretted only clocking up only four hours sleep since the NME awards party two days earlier. That admission of course only made all the Fielding acolytes in the place swoon even more. You could almost feel the shoulder pads swell up with pride as he looked out and said approvingly, " Oh, yes. My kind of crowd. Good boots, glitter and good hair."

His laid-back set meandered from childhood memories about Lego, tropical fish and going to see Kiss aged 7, dressed as Gene Simmons, via musings on Hackney chavs and Greek philosophers. Of course all ended up 2,000 light years from where they started. The Kiss anecdote saw him taken for a shrunken Simmons by the band, whisked away on tour, then dumped for someone even younger.

Overall, Fielding's rock’n’roll lifestyle seemed to have caught up with him on Saturday. “God, I'm like a tragic juke box,” he said after messing up an old gag involving his granny, Jimi Hendrix and jammy dodgers. But even a tired Fielding who fluffs his finale can do no wrong as far as his congregation is concerned. They'd come to worship. And that they did.

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