Peaches and scream.
I was in my early twenties, and I was (as so many of my stories start) lusting after a girl. We all do stupid things when we combine unrequited lust with alcohol.

My stupid thing was karaoke. Her favourite pub happened to be staging a karaoke night. She convinces me to sing a song with her and her mate. Never mind that I can make ears bleed at fifty paces with my singing, and never mind that a tune to me is a cough sweet. I agree and we choose a song. We choose that Millions of Peaches song, or whatever it's called.

We chose wrong.

So the three of us take the stage, the two ladies so very kindly falling back to make me centre stage. The song starts and it's some slow, romantic love song. I think - hang on, this doesn't sound right. I look at the screen and some dodgy lyrics about beaches and sunsets show up. Oh shit. I look round, and my partners in crime are nowhere to be seen. I look out into the audience in time to see them disappearing into the crowd. I'm all alone, spotlight on me, completely unable to sing even if I wanted to, and there's some cheesy love song playing. I sheepishly take the mic and say "sorry, wrong song" and shuffle off the stage.
( Damocles wants no part of your debauchery, Thu 27 Nov 2008, 20:09, Reply)