Thursday night thrills: karaoke at Dylan’s

It’s 8.30pm and Dylan’s bar is not even half full.

In the corner a sports team drink pints and talk loudly about women, elsewhere groups of students order food and pretend that the dreaded karaoke machine isn’t set up at the front.

No one dares put their name down to sing.

The night wears on and a few brave, die-hard karaoke fans step up to the mic and begin to wail a mixture of songs ranging from cheesy pop to power ballads, with the odd clap at the end.

Of course, there are a few talented contestants but they’re overlooked by the people who are willing to make a fool out of themselves for 2-4-1 cocktail vouchers.

As people get drunker, more confident and therefore willing to put themselves through the ultimate humiliation of karaoke, the level of talent drops severely.

Here is a shining example of the kind of ‘talent’ found at karaoke night:

Groups of students put their names down for horrific hits such as Madonna – Like a Virgin and Robbie Williams – Angels.

Singing becomes wailing and it’s clear that half the group are unaware of the lyrics as they make strange noises that mildly resemble the melody.

The highlight of the night comes from a blonde guy in a knitted jumper who sings Wrecking Ball in a voice which sounds like he’s constipated, demonstrating how terrible the night really was for an onlooker.

It gets to 10pm and I decide I’ve had enough karaoke for one day – for one lifetime in fact – so I head home and let them get on with it.