Lost for Words (nearly)

For once I am quite literally struggling for adjectives. I refer to the karaoke on Saturday night at pub. Hardly anyone there, but I imagine those that turned up were frustrated singers. Well, not singers actually. Howlers and the tone deaf. Two was reduced to gibbering wreck, quite unable to control his merriment as we were subjected to two elderly gentlemen taking it in turns to murder various well-known songs. And I do mean murder. One gentleman who was imbibing large amounts of alcohol, was howling into the microphone, holding his notes (the wrong ones), for increasingly elongated periods of time, eyes closed, presumably in ecstacy. The other gentleman, who put his name down for a large number of songs, sang? very quietly and impressively flat. After each performance he nipped outside to sit on the bench with his pint, reappearing with alacrity each time his name was called out. It was all very very funny. Two actually said he thoroughly enjoyed himself, hadn't laughed so much for years. He had to go outside a couple of times because his shoulders were shaking so much, and tears were streaming down his face. I managed to behave with a bit more decorum, but Two kept popping into view in the window, convulsed with laughter, which set me off as well. Funny thing karaoke, bit like the X Factor in some ways. I mean, do these people really believe they can sing?

Eventually a party came in with More Experienced Karaoke Singers, two of whom gave us amazingly good performances. This did not however deter Howling Wolf and Impressively Flat, who continued to serenade us ad nauseum. Think will practise singing a bit, cannot possibly be any worse. Two said he might have a go, if he knew any songs. Hmmm. Anyway, good night out, but bit tired having been out Friday night as well.

Am running on to Sunday morning now, as noteworthy event occurred. Was sitting in living room with Two, riveted by the news of Fergie's latest indiscretion, when bird suddenly flew past me and landed on top of curtain rail. Was Great Tit! Back door was wide open as very hot day again, and in he flew. Two immediately took charge, being much in tune with Our Feathered Friends. Great Tit took off and flew into window with bang, then blundered back to curtain rail. I suggested with draw the curtains to avoid recurrence of this, and then Two insisted I leave the room as He Would Deal With It. He seemed to think the bird was one that had become particularly friendly. Tame almost. I was intrigued, had the Great Tit popped in for coffee and a chat with Two? To discuss the contents of the bird-table in detail? I disappeared upstairs to await developments. Surely Two's expertise would triumph. Nothing happened. I went back down to discover Two had laid a trail of peanuts towards the exits, namely the back and front doors. Great-Tit remained like statue, now on top of my precious Art Deco mirror. Apparently he had taken off again and landed on top of my polished table, where Two described him as Scrabbling For A Foothold. Horrified at possibility of scratches on polished surface, I stared at Great Tit, willing him to take off and fly back outside as soon as possible. After an age, the bird suddenly took flight and landed on top of the open front door. He hesitated here, (completely ignoring the trail of peanuts), and then to my relief, flew out and away. Two picked up the peanuts, (of which there were many). Came very close to calling Two a Great Tit, but restrained myself.