"It's the freakiest show"

All recent attempts to reignite my once insatiable appetite for blogging have failed, but I am determined to make this one work.

Last night I ventured to a local drinking hole to celebrate (?) the departure of somebody I have considered a friend for the best part of 18 months. He's a very friendly and generous chap, and plus he has an amusing Northern Irish accent which causes him to say many things in an amusing and mockable way.

Anyway, upon arrival at the said establishment, I discovered to my horror that it was a 'karaoke night'.

Now I must explain. I am 27 years old and I have never undertaken Karaoke. Why? Because I'm a music snob. If I were to be invited to deposit some items into Room 101, I would obviously put marmite, celery, lager, Richard Madeley and Birmingham City Football Club straight in. However, I would also put in karaoke.

Let's consider this from a balanced perspective:

1)It's just a bit of fun. People enjoy it, the point is to sing badly, but it gives everyone who has no hope of performing in any context a chance to sing a song they like and amuse their friends and anyone else who happens to be in the room.

2) It is the lowest form of music, it promotes mediocrity, and is often accompanied by irresponsible drinking. Plus the selection of songs are so predictable and tasteless (13,000 Abba sings, no I didn't know there were that many either)... NO Divine Comedy. I would have expected a bit of National Express action as a token acknowledgement at least,

Anyway, in my pride, I have never undertaken karaoke, but last night I started to melt. I realised that my boycott of karaoke was doing nothing to halt its inevitable popularity, and in fact my participation may at least introduce a room full of people to something known in my voacbulary as a 'decent song'. If you can't beat 'em.... My pride had to be dealt with. I felt the increasing urge to 'have a go'.

So I did.

Even I was quite impressed how long I could sustain a fully tuneful 'MAAAARRRRS' at the end of the chorus, and my knowledge of the lyrics to the second verse proved useful when the words machine broke:

"It's on Amerika's (sic) tortured brow / Mickey Mouse has grown up a cow....

God bless Bowie....