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They were Republicans, Nixon Republicans, and so didn't subscribe to the notion that laws are supposed to apply to all people equally.

Most experts today subscribe to some variations of the incongruity theory, the idea that humor arises when people discover there's an inconsistency between what they expect to happen and what actually happens. Or, as seventeenth-century French philosopher Blaise Pascal put it when he first came up with the concept, "Nothing produces laughter more than a surprising disproportion between that which one expects and that which one sees.

Adelaide was a funny sort of feminist in that she believed, fiercely, in reversing and subverting stereotypical gender norms, but often subscribed to them herself.

The biggest myth about comedy is that it’s magical, unknowable, unteachable. Those who subscribe to that myth believe that the world is divided into two parts: those who are funny, and those who ain’t. And if you ain’t, well, sorry Charley, that’s all she wrote. I have a simple response to that: Bull.

That video is… well, extraordinary,’ she says. ‘And I mean absolutely extraordinary. The first time I watched it, shivers went right through my spine. I couldn’t sleep all night for thinking about it.’ She lets out a trembling sigh and then leans forward across the table, so close that I can see her pores, clogged with deathly pale face powder. With the jet-black hair and scarlet lips, she looks more like a forgotten bride of Dracula than a forties movie star, which I imagine was the original intention. ‘Tell me,’ she says. ‘What was your first reaction? I mean, did it bring back any memories?’ I shake my head. ‘No. Not at all. But then, I was only four.’ ‘Hmm… That doesn’t surprise me.’ The waiter pours our wine and Isobel takes a generous glug. ‘Children usually forget their past lives once they reach five or six. That’s normal.’ It doesn’t sound normal to me, but Isobel leaves no space for my opinion, embarking on a mini lecture about reincarnation, as if it factually exists, like cancer or heart disease – or death itself, for that matter. I drink my wine and let her talk. Not all of us reincarnate, apparently; it only happens when there’s ‘unfinished business’. I assume by that she doesn’t mean incomplete kitchen extensions or not reaching your weight-loss target. She tells me that, despite being ‘very drawn’ to Buddhism, she doesn’t subscribe to the karmic interpretation – disabled people, for example, being punished for wrongdoings in former lives. She thinks that’s cruel and utterly ludicrous. Her jury’s out on whether people ever reincarnate as domestic pets and believes it probably only happens occasionally, in exceptional circumstances. But the notion of dead people’s spirits floating out of their bodies and wandering around the ether looking for new, unsuspecting hosts appears to make perfect sense. She’s talking a load of crap and yet I seem unable – unwilling even – to contradict her. I just sit there, listening and nodding. To my shame, I even interject the odd agreeing noise. Isobel Dalliday is enchanting me. I find her warm, funny and extremely entertaining. And I mustn’t forget, she’s paying for lunch.