Karaoke in The Duke...
Third year of Uni, and two of my friends somehow manage to get themselves barred from the college bar (one of them was sick on the jukebox, the other one was sick on the barman when he came to throw them out - they couldn't remember this, the barman told me)

We needed to find another, affordable drinking hole, and fast. On the walk from our third year accommodation to town there was a weird pub that seemed to be left from another era, and now had a car park built around it, leaving it looking like a sort of boozy lighthouse in a sea of concrete. No one ever went there - it just didn't look like a studenty place. Plus, it was a pub in the middle of a car park.

However, it did have a huge great banner proclaiming that they did pitchers (of Harp) for £6.45, so we adopted it.

First couple of visits were Sunday football or early afternoon in the week (hey, we were students), and apart from the fact the landlord was the dirtiest man you'd ever seen and kept his dog in the kitchen, it was welcoming and comfy. Then came karaoke night...

I don't want to sounds like a snob, but even for someone with a familiarity and affection for scummy pubs, this was a rough-looking crowd. I think we were the only young blokes in the room without tattoos and shit eyebrow piercings. The old guys mostly had limbs missing (I'm not exaggerating, I counted). The women don't bear thinking about.

We found ourselves a table in the corner and settled in. It was a brilliant evening. Some terrible singers, some great singers, but a good atmosphere and lots of friendly banter. We all relaxed and started clapping the acts and getting a few rounds in.

There was another table that didn't quite fit in. A couple. We have since christened the guy Pissed Ian, because he was pissed and we heard his girlfriend call him Ian.

From their demeanour we reckoned they hadn't been together too long and this was an early venture out. They weren't a natural couple - he dressed like a teacher, she was a bit Goth. He was a small man, and weighed about half as much as her and clearly couldn't keep pace. She was jolly, but he was legless. As the drinks kept coming, he developed a demonic gleam in his eye, and we could hear the tone of conversation change from relaxed chat to her desperate pleading.

Looking as determined as only a drunk man on a frst date can, Ian pulls himself to his feet and makes his way to the karaoke set-up. He has words with the operator, who looks like he's not sure whether to laugh or worry, and takes the mic.

Prince: 'When Doves Cry'

Fucking hell. It was the most rapt audience I've ever seen. Some people were puzzled. Many were just looking around to see how others reacted. After a few moments, everyone just sat there and listened.

He was great. Absolutely fantastic. Could barely stand but he belted it out like a true showman. When he finished, it brought the house down. A standing ovation in a pub!

Ian lopes back across the room to his girl, with a look on his face that says ‘Oh yeah – I told you I was a performer’. At which point she punches him so hard he goes down like a sack of shit, and is woken by the landlord with the contents of the ice-bucket.

There's no impressing some girls.
(SnowyTheWereRabbit the Leporid from Hell, Thu 5 Feb 2009, 23:46, Reply)