Where Beyoncé embodies the unattainable zenith of pop perfection and Rihanna is an R-rated dervish daring you to be scandalised, Alecia Beth Moore is the arena headliner you could go for a beer with. That’s the impression she toils hard at projecting anyway, with songs about the drudgery of married life (see new album The Truth About Love) and a bar-brawler media profile. So it’s strange how she – very literally – turns her biker babe image on its head in concert.

Set in a high-production gothic baroque fantasy land, on her latest tour Pink variously stars in a mock dating game, clambers into a Lady Gaga-style torture porn cage, singing while shirtless beefcakes dangle outside and, for good measure, belts out several soft-rock power ballads as she swings, trapeze-artist style, high above the room. By any standards, it’s a gawp-inducing turn – even more so considering that, as per her occasional gasps for air, Pink appears to be doing most of the vocals live (she has recorded tracks and backing singers to help, sure – but the bulk of the heavy lifting is by her).
In fact, the show only stumbles when the FX are put back in their box. A straightforward reading of Chris Isaak’s ‘Wicked Game’ prompts a rush to the bar; a pre-encore acoustic set tells us that, whatever else, Moore must never, ever be let near a James Taylor torch-song (she visits unspeakable horrors upon ‘Fire & Rain’).