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The atmosphere at An Evening with Kerry Katona and Katie Price at the Clapham Grand felt like a cross between a bachelorette party and a trauma survivor’s support group that had somehow been double-booked into the same room — and decided to just roll with it.

The venue, draped in plastic cobwebs and haunted-house décor for Halloween, looked appropriately possessed by ghosts of the British tabloid 2000s.

The crowd’s temperament was somewhere between Vegas party bus rowdiness and churchlike reverence: shrieking laughter punctuated by long, uneasy silences whenever a punchline curdled into confession.

It was, in every sense, a séance – one where the spirits happened to s

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