INSIDE Tim Burton’s head, on a night when he’s had too much sugar, it probably looks quite similar to Katy Perry's live show: think Charlie and The Chocolate Factory with added sauce.

Katy is the self-appointed poster girl for naughty pop, not so much pushing the boundaries as nudging them with a hyper-curled eyelash wink.

But you can't knock it; it's a niche that was vacant and with such an enthusiastic reaction to her girl kissing breakthrough, she can hardly be blamed for diving in, outrageous burlesque meets panto costumes and all.

Any suggestion that she's just a jokey gal with a decent set of lungs and an over-sexed celebrity husband is wide of the mark, though. She might revel in the whole Mae West for the Twitter generation tag, but two albums in, she's worth far more than that.

Beginning the night as she meant to go on, Katy arrived on stage in a voluminous pink puffball skirt, topped with jewelled heart corset – the star of her very own candy-laden fairytale, told in a montage of fantasy footage.

It was the first of a multitude of outrageous outfit options, signalling that this was more about overall entertainment than just vocal vanity, but a crammed to capacity Arena seemed perfectly happy with that; it's the full package that counts (are the double entrendres catching?).

What followed was a near two-hour set full of hits and as camp as a Glastonbury weekend.