 It is therefore fitting that in the evenings, during the brief spell in which we emerge from the lazy river, we will, at karaoke hour, belt out her famous torch songs, full-throated, already drunk, content in the knowledge that later, much later, when all of this is over, these same beloved verses will be sung at our funerals. But karaoke was last night. Tonight we have a magician. He pulls rabbits from places, unexpected places.