Just before midnight, in what might be described as an old industrial lock-up, a tall Portuguese man makes his way up to the stage in the corner of the room and proceeds to sing, with unexpected panache, AC/DC’s Highway to Hell. It is one of three perfectly pitched songs he delivers that night. Turns out he’s a professional, semi-retired.
The stage is a performance in itself: ramshackle karaoke equipment in the corner, tangles of fairy lights, an old wooden guitar hanging from the wall behind, and a large green shield bearing a roaring lion under the letters “SCL”.
