Undoubtedly, the 46664 concert, named after both Nelson Mandela's prison number and his Aids charity, marked the end of an era. For the desperately frail Mandela himself, who turns 90 on 18 July, this 46,664-ticket jamboree was probably his final British appearance.

At an age where merely getting out of bed is a Herculean effort, Mandela would probably have chosen something other than being serenaded by a gaggle of mostly Eighties pop acts. And hopefully Mandela joined the mass cringe when excruciatingly giddy presenter June Sarpong anointed him as "the greatest man to ever walk the face of this planet".

With Naomi Campbell excommunicated, the usual suspects muscled in. Geri Halliwell tried to lead Mandela on stage before security pushed her aside in favour of the undeniably more relevant Graca, the third Mrs Mandela. Later, Annie Lennox shamelessly attempted to hijack the singalong finale, Jerry Dammers's Nelson Mandela ("I wrote a song; some people gave their lives," he noted in a moment of sobering perspective), with attention-seeking kung-fu kicks.

The undemanding line-up was ideal for a pre-birthday bash and expertly utilised backing vocalists the Soweto Gospel Choir provided a link between Hyde Park and Johannesburg. Simple Minds (seemingly collectively following cake-based diets) and Eddy Grant brimmed with righteous vim, while Sudanese rapper Emmanuel Jal was electric.

Miraculously restored from her sickbed, Amy Winehouse was still suffering from a cold. With a heartshaped hairgrip namechecking her imprisoned husband (although Blake Fielder-Civil's GBH-related weeks in Pentonville may not carry the moral weight of Mandela's incarceration), Winehouse hitched up her shirt through Rehab, sauntered imperiously through Valerie, said not a word and looked distracted but far from bowed.

And then there was the mindbogglingly inappropriate bill-toppers, half of Queen. Whether Mandela a fan remains unclear, since his thoughts on Seventies British rockers are poorly documented. But back then he had more pressing concerns than speculating how long Bohemian Rhapsody would remain Britain's Number One.

The key question of Mandela's British stay was whether he would condemn Robert Mugabe: Queen's was whether they would evoke the spirit of truth and reconciliation and apologise for taking the apartheid rand and giving the regime rare cultural legitimacy by playing Sun City in 1984. And, if they had a few spare moments, I'd have appreciated a sorry for We Will Rock You, too.

Typically, Mandela had already delivered; Queen unapologetically (in both senses) rocked. Hugely, joyously enjoyable all the same.