I'm Rubbish

• Sock Monkey hasn't told you about the holiday in Dublin.
• Sock Monkey hasn't told you about the trip to Paris.
• Sock Monkey hasn't even got round to writing the report of when my sister came over from America and that was in April! (but then I only just sucked the photographs out of my camera the day before yesterday and naturally I have to illustrate my report with pictures).

Sock Monkey can however tell you about a recent night out.

So we all meet up and plan to have one drink then go for dinner. We have two drinks and decide to go for dinner but got waylaid into a cocktail bar instead. It was packed upstairs so P suggested that we sit downstairs even though we had seats upstairs. This was her sneaky way of getting us into the room where they do the karaoke.

P likes singing so off she went whilst we sat and watched. Well of course we had to look at the song menu and pick stupid songs for her to sing. Then I saw something entirely suitable for a Sock Monkey to perform!

I wrote down my song title and track number and gave it to the lady. This is where my evident psychosis and split personality obviously took a turn for the worst. The name I wrote on the slip of paper I gave the lady was 'Sock Monkey', not my real name. Sock Monkey never comes out! Sock Monkey only ever writes reports on here. Its a bit like Jekyll and Hyde - we are two completely separate personas.

Anyway, the lady said, "Now Sock Monkey is going to sing".

Sock Monkey jumped up to the microphone and started the song. Please bear in mind that Sock Monkey couldn't carry a note in a bucket and shouts, as opposed to 'sings'. I dragged P up for moral support and made her stand there like my Able Assistant. Like a magicians assistant (although I had no intention of sawing her in half).

Then I launched into my song which, frankly, I don't think people appreciated anything like as much as they ought to have done.

Its quite a difficult song and the lady said that only one other person had ever chosen it. It was really the last verse which was the killer, I was running out of breath and there was the slight possibility of passing out or throwing up afterwards as its a bit like running very, very fast. But Sock Monkey managed all of the lyrics which went as follows:

"Now if you want to take some pictures of the fascinating witches who put the scintillating stitches in the britches of the boys who put the powder on the noses on the faces of the ladies of the harem of the court of King Caractacus...

...you're too late! Because they've just... passed... by!"

I can confirm that "The Court of King Caractacus" is a bloody difficult song to sing. But 1 gin & tonic, a margarita and a bucket of sea breeze helps.

We did have dinner in the end. We got to the restaurant at 11pm.