Well, Shane MacGowan did make it onto the stage… just. Along with all the other performers at last night’s music of Disney concert at The Royal Festival Hall, he lurched onto the platform an hour later than scheduled. This had nothing to do with Shane’s long-term love affair with glass and bottle but was down to electrical problems that delayed the proceedings, giving the Irish troubadour a little longer to indulge his liquid excesses in the hospitality room.

Jarvis Cocker’s idea to put on a two-hour concert that had a mixed bag of musicians performing songs and instrumental works that have featured in Disney films was ambitious, both in thought and on paper. The realisation was to confirm this. Due to the sheer scale of the undertaking and the ins and outs that took the confirmation of participants right to the wire, I had anticipated that the results were likely to be patchy. I was right.

The earlier technical difficulties didn’t take long to resurface. The first half of Roger McGough’s short contribution was lost through lack of volume from his mike. Shame. The second half – all two to three minutes of it - had him at his deadpan, funny best. After that things did settle down and the concert managed to ease into its stride.

And stride is what the long skinny legs of Jarvis did to propel him from the wings, or the place where the wings would be if the Festival Hall had them. Not mentioning the delay and probably getting away with it, he announced his first contribution to his very own Meltdown Sunday by saying that the song he was about to begin merely confirmed what we knew to be so, then launched himself – all legs, arms, elbows, knees and bums-a-daisy – into ‘I’m the king of the swingers’. Although sticking closer to the original than a lot of what was to follow, he managed to inject more than a hint of sardonic irony into the sing-along lyrics, especially the lines ‘Oh, oobee doo, I wanna be like you, I wanna walk like you, talk like you, too’, which he addressed directly to the full-house audience. Personally, I didn't believe him.

Other performers strayed further from the lighter side of a sunlit clearing, taking us deep into the dark, dark woods. Something that Disney repeated in passages in most of his animated movies, the scary bit that had us kids covering our eyes and ears. Not easy to do simultaneously, as I recall.

Nick Cave managed to turn Heigh-Ho into a Zola-like incubus, swapping coal for precious stones with miners trapped in a brutal capitalist regime of endless toil and exploitation: ‘We dig dig dig dig dig dig dig from early morn till night, we dig dig dig dig dig dig dig up everything in sight, we dig up diamonds by the score, a thousand rubies, sometimes more, but we don't know what we dig 'em for, we dig dig dig a-dig dig’. An adult nightmare indeed, old Nick's way.

Grace Jones, closing the first half, came very close to stealing it with her imperious rendition of ‘Trust In Me’ from The Jungle Book. When done, she swept from the stage on nine-inch heels, the ‘hurrahs’ ringing in her ears. If red roses for divas had been brought along, they would have been showered down upon her.

My own enjoyment of Act 1 was only marred by a frightful woman who was seated beside me. She talked incessantly to her partner throughout, hardly pausing for breath. Unable to stand it any longer, I was moved to ask her, in no uncertain terms, too kindly keep quiet. For about thirty seconds this appeared to do the trick. Then, off she went again. Short of strangling the bloody woman I was out of ideas. She was obviously deranged. Thankfully I was not forced to extreme measures as the pair failed to take their places for the second half - hopefully as the result of a fatal plunge from the terrace to the flagstones below during the interval.

In Act 2, Peter Doherty, as he was billed, turned in a touching and heartfelt version of ‘Chim Chiminee’, for once in his life, choosing to do it straight. Bravo young man. Then, there was Shane. He shambled to centre stage; each step planted uncertainly, as if to make sure that the floor was still there, the walk of a man blind drunk. With glass in hand, black suit rumpled, white shirt shining, he somehow managed to roar his way through ‘Zip-a-dee dooh dah’ from beginning to end. The crowd roared back, encouraging him through it and he took his exit, blowing extravagant kisses our way.

Other highlights included Beth Orton and several virtuoso players in the band. Due to the late start, we had to leave before the Cocker finale, ‘When You Wish Upon A Star’. A pity, as it’s a personal favourite. But, heigh-ho.