I am hopeless at karaoke. I can't sing. And I'm not one of those nervous types who will eventually take the microphone and struggle through an endearingly timid performance. I just have an unpleasant singing voice and I am always out of tune.
My lack of talent, before I entirely recognised it, led to some uncomfortable evenings in Hong Kong. Persuaded to come along to the karaoke lounge after a meal, I would eventually pick up the microphone and have a go at one of my favourite songs. Fifteen to 20 seconds in, the clapping would fade away and everyone would start to pay very close attention to their drinks. The conclusions of my performances were generally met with uncomfortable silences and polite smiles.
Realising this, I have now come to fear karaoke. It's hard to enjoy doing something that you are completely useless at, but doing it in front of other people is about a thousand times worse. So I make every effort to avoid situations where singing might be called for. I simply decline invitations, feign illness, or slip quietly out the door pretending that I need to join a conference call. I do this not just for myself, but for everyone else, too. As hard as it is for me to sing, it must be even harder for people to listen to.
But it is difficult to completely avoid the karaoke lounge. Let down your guard and you can be quickly plunged right into the middle of a karaoke nightmare.
While visiting Tokyo last week I attended an excellent dinner in an unbelievably expensive teppanyaki restaurant where the lobster is still moving when it is placed on the grill, even despite the fact that it has previously been sliced in half. My hosts were clients, and in an unusual break with protocol, it was they who settled the bill. So I could hardly refuse when they invited me to go for a drink afterwards.
Going for an after-dinner drink in Tokyo quite often means sitting in a lavishly decorated club trying to communicate with hostesses dressed in evening gowns whose only word of English is 'shopping'. But tonight we went to what looked like an ordinary bar.