‘Maybe we could walk on a bit and see what we find?’

‘Good thinking.’

We quickly continue along the street, but not without being propositioned by a couple of men and a woman. There’s a man throwing up in a bin, and another taking a pee just round the corner of one of the bars. He keeps poking his head round the corner to check the police haven’t clocked him, which makes me wonder why he doesn’t just go to the men’s toilet inside – and whether his shoes are still dry.

As we pass a side street, my attention is drawn down it to a hub of activity. It’s another bar, but the punters standing around smoking outside appear a bit more sober.

‘What about there, Sash?’

‘Seems all right.’ She peers along the street, trying to get a better feel for it. ‘Saves us walking any further, at least.’

‘Let’s take a look.’

We make our way towards the bar, nodding at the punters outside as we enter. It’s closer to a pub, with more traditional decor and upholstered furnishings that, while a bit tatty and worn, further add to the charm of the place.

‘It’s my round,’ Sasha informs me. ‘What would you like?’

‘I’ll just have a Coke, thanks. You have a proper drink though – if you want one.’

She nods her understanding and makes her way to the bar, while I make a beeline for the only vacant table in the place. I sit myself down on the fixed bench-style seating, facing into the room. It’s packed out with high-spirited Friday night revellers, giving it a warm and welcoming feel. The energetic dance track pumping through the ceiling-mounted speakers doesn’t quite match the decor.

It’s very much a bar that attracts all types. I’m just sizing the place up as a potential Friday after-work drinks venue for my team at work when a booming voice comes over the PA.

‘Right, then. Who’s up next? It’s… Shanice. Shanice, up you come.’

As the room breaks into whooping applause, my karaoke radar goes into overdrive. I crane my neck to get a better view of the other side of the room. There, I spot the owner of the booming voice, as well as a television screen emitting full ‘karaoke blue’. A beautiful woman in her twenties, jet black hair piled high on her head and wearing a figure-hugging gold dress, makes her way across the room. She plucks the microphone being offered to her from the karaoke compère and poises herself, ready to sing.

I watch with interest as the opening bars of a well-known upbeat Whitney Houston song begin to play. No one generally attempts a Whitney Houston number unless they have some level of vocal competence. I’m not disappointed. The second she starts to sing, it’s clear that Shanice was born for this. Her pitch is flawless, the strength in her voice evident but perfectly controlled, her breathing well measured. She moves seamlessly through the first verse and chorus, making it appear completely effortless.