So, another Saturday evening rolled around, and I had no plans. Male Housemate decided, therefore, to challenge me to a game of SingStar.
And, yes, cider may have been involved.
Now, apparently, he's amazingly good at this game; and was threatening to trounce me with his dazzling musical performances. I confess, however, that I was quietly confident.
The outcome?
Well, perhaps he's not quite as good as this game as I had been led to believe. Either that, or I am considerably better than I had previously thought.
Either way, I am now the proud owner of a memory card save featuring Male Housemate singing along to Sophie Ellis Bextor's Murder On The Dancefloor, whilst sounding alarmingly similar, in both voice and pitch, to Miss Piggy. And, as if that wasn't pure comedy gold on its own, it's also followed by an exasperated and beautifully enunciated "F–cking hell!" over the fading music at the end.
I'm still deciding what I should do with this. Your thoughts?
0 comments:
Post a Comment