Carry on karaoke

Tonight was the monthly company social, and as usual I went straight home from the office to put my kids to bed. Feeling guilty at this misanthropism, and keen for a bit of stupidity, I left the flat and took a taxi up to Liang Court, where everyone was at a karaoke bar.

Liang Court is a funny sort of mall. There’s a Japanese supermarket in the basement that sells Swiss cheese, an expensive beer shop up in the middle of a bunch of Hello Kitty resellers, and a place called Club Posh. I like it not.

Wandering around, trying to find the entrance, I saw a man jog past me, wearing a woollen cap. I don’t understand what kind of person needs to wear warming headgear this close to the Equator. I carried on, made ingress to the mall and then slowly got up to the second floor where Karaoke Planet Party, a slightly gloomy, very red place full of small rooms with people singing badly inside them was situated. I got lost for a while in the labyrinth and then found my workmates, singing terrible songs and drinking gin.

I didn’t think that this close to my 40th I’d be singing Aerosmith songs, or indeed David Bowie’s Life On Mars (lyrics transcribed for the karaoke screen by somebody with a tin ear). My own little tribute to Bromley Dave was to ruin Life On Mars, then walk home again, sweating profusely. It’s a good life, if you don’t weaken.

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