Punk rock legend turned spoken word artist Henry Rollins may have been forced to downsize to the O2 Academy due to the closure of the Regal (the original venue for this gig), but in the confines of the packed downstairs at the O2 he gave a flawless performance in his increasingly primary role as a public speaker. Arriving on stage at 8.00 pm on the dot, Rollins wrapped the mic lead round his hand and launched straight into his almost-two-and-a-half hour spiel, not once pausing or stopping for a sip of water.

Whereas his previous ‘routines’ (a loose term, considering the man’s ability to riff on a subject with clarity and intelligence) had been vitriolic – particularly regarding the Bush administration and the War on Terror – peppering his sets with ‘ain’t Bush a jackass’-style jibes for laughs, this time Rollins’ performance was more humanitarian, more sedate, but no less on-the-ball or funny.

Of course, he couldn’t help himself but dedicate a small section of his time to George W’s recent autobiography, Decision Points, and the current US Presidential elections (noting that ultra-conservative Republican candidate Rick Perry is so homophobic that he has to be gay). Indeed, his anecdotes about American life and the national proclivity to consume were delivered with an equal combination of frustration and love, a conflict that in many ways mirrored the late Bill Hicks and his juxtaposed tirades about the American South.

To use a tired phrase, the first hour of his performance was a veritable tour de force, full of charming recollections of his early days as a poor, touring musician in Black Flag, having to check the weight of chocolate bars to ensure that he was getting the most value for his fifty-five cents. Other memorable passages involved some deceptively tough ‘working boys’ on the Santa Monica Boulevard, the pitfalls of stage-diving, Black Flag’s total lack of groupies, meeting a young, enthusiastic Metallica (“I’ve not followed their career since, but I heard they’ve done pretty well for themselves”), and reciting lines from Blue Velvet to an unwitting and, naturally, terrified Dennis Hopper.

But it was his life-changing experiences in India, Korea, Vietnam and Tibet that informed the majority of his set, blending social and cultural commentary with a great deal of warmth and humour. His ruminations on the brainwashing of North Koreans and China’s military presence in Tibet were particularly poignant, especially the latter, which was told through the eyes of a young Buddhist woman, sobbing about the absence of the exiled Dalai Llama. But the tone of the show was balanced beautifully – the next moment Henry recalled being given a tour of Vietnam by a hilarious gloating Vietnamese historian, pointing with pride to where John McCain’s plane crash-landed.

Self-proclaimed stand-up comedians rarely deliver shows as full of intelligence, genuine belly laughs, humanity, warmth, self-depreciation and sincerity as Rollins did tonight, let alone with such professionalism and for more than two hours straight. Not even the twats in front of me who were talking loudly, farting and getting up every two minutes to go for a fag could ruin the evening for me. Absolutely superb.