Karaoke brings out the best and worst in some people, mention it to folks back home and they groan like a Luddite at a combine harvester or a hypochondriac who was cured by a placebo. Others, however, take to singing like a duck to football - me for example. In Japan, it's not how good you are but how hard you try, I try very hard and get progressively worse. But do I care? Yes.

In the chequered room of pain where all evil music lovers are sentenced to an eternity of penury and the whole "Puffy" back catalogue translated into Croatian, some obviouslly don't give a toss. From the left are the two twins, though logically, being twins there would... you know, er, be two of them. Next in line is Shino trying to smile bravely even though her hands are being sat on and she can only see her beer and not get to it. Next, sleeping comfortably with her finger in the air is Punky, though sometimes called Milky, and sometimes Hippy. Next week, who knows. Leaning on her is the completely un-drunk Maki, who is taking advantage of the confusion to steal Shino's beer.

Maki makes an unprovoked, pre-emptive strike on the Bruce and the Brit while the flying lady of happiness launches herself off the TV to who knows where.