London, England - Every Sunday the London theatre which hosts the Queen musical We Will Rock You opens its doors to a different crowd - the youthful worshippers of a vibrant Australian church called Hillsong, where rock is as important as prayer.
Across the country abandoned churches have been renovated, converted and reopened for a purpose entirely different to that for which they were originally built. Wine bars, restaurants, apartments... I've even visited a pet shop in Cheshire that was once a church.
This is one kind of conversion that seems a clear symptom of the decline of British church. Until, perhaps, you realise that the opposite is happening too.
There are churches meeting not in traditional consecrated buildings but in schools, cinemas, business premises, and even a (covered) swimming pool. I've been to one in a pub, though never yet in a pet shop.
So the crowds milling outside the Dominion Theatre in London's Tottenham Court Road this Sunday will not be there for a matinee of We Will Rock You, the Ben Elton-penned homage to Freddie Mercury and Queen.
They'll be there for church. Hillsong is an Australian church which was founded in Sydney in 1983 and started spreading franchise-like, with branches now in London, Leatherhead, Paris and Kiev.
Its emphasis is on modern, vibrant worship, high production values and personal commitment.
The pavement outside the Dominion is busy with shoppers as ever, but a stream of young people are turning aside from the worship of mammon and stepping through the legs of a giant Freddie Mercury hoarding, into the venue.
There is no clue from the street of what this is about, except the intensely friendly door staff in corporate puffa jackets; and they hardly look like church wardens.
In the foyer, attractive, smiling young people carry trays of sweets and Hillsong brochures. Rock music fills the air. Stalls sell Hillsong CDs and DVDs.
Once in the auditorium/sanctuary, the Dominion no longer seems such an incongruous place for a religious service because this is not church as you might know it. Rather than pre-matins hush, a pop video full of challenging messages plays on a huge screen, while the stage is set out for a concert. No pulpit, no altar, just lots of guitars.
An urgent beat begins. The congregation is on its feet clapping. The band leaps on stage and segues seamlessly from the video into the first song.
There follows a full hour of music, so solid I can't tell where one song starts and another ends - especially as they only do their own songs. It's like Abbey Road. It's the first time I've seen a church music group with two drum kits.
The Anglican Book of Common Prayer says, "Lead me to the Rock". There are no prayer books here, but the sentiment couldn't be put better. And the congregation need no convincing - their hands clapping and waving and faces beaming.
The scene is a far cry from when Hillsong started in Britain in 1992, brought over by a small team of members who emigrated to London.
Believing the capital was in urgent need of Christian mission, the first meetings were in members' homes. It graduated to a school, then a series of colleges and theatres, before arriving at the Dominion, slap bang in the heart of London's West End.
Back at the service, the only interruption to the music is for the offering. It is introduced with a 10-minute pep-talk from the casually dressed vicar on the importance of giving generously.
Mixed, but young crowd
God greatly rewards those who do, he says, and not just in the spiritual sense, but the financial one too. He expects 10% of their income to go in the bucket.
There's such a buzz here - the worship's really amazing, and the talks are inspiring. You go back feeling really ready for the week ahead
Debbie, aged 22
Hillsong claims a weekly attendance of 6,000 worshippers across its three Sunday services in London. The crowd appears to be largely aged 18 to 30, middle-class and multi-ethnic.
"We go to church in Bromley, where we live, and come to Hillsong once a month or so," says one congregation member, Debbie, 22.
"It's too far to come every week, but it's worth it, 'cause there's such a buzz here. The worship's really amazing, and the talks are inspiring. You go back feeling really ready for the week ahead."
Others, like Debbie, are visiting from their local church, says Paul Nevison, Hillsong's leader in London. Some are weekly members who also go to the mid-week teaching and social events in local homes, cafes and pubs. Some just drift in thinking it's We Will Rock You.
It seems like an expensive way to worship, and couldn't the money be better spent? Mr Nevison points to the mission's many projects, from a homeless charity in London to orphanages in Uganda.
He plays down the cost of the services, saying they use equipment that is already there, although the financial giving page of Hillsong's brochure makes a big thing of the costs of the sound system and media equipment.
After the congregation has dispensed with its financial duties, the band quit the stage for the Rev Gary's sermon which is about commitment in one's spiritual life.
It's quite unlike any church I know, but Mr Nevison believes Hillsong's unique style is crucial in reconnecting young folk with God.
"Hillsong," he says, "is fundamentally about creating a new impression of Christianity for a generation who have turned away from God."