Marcel Winatschek

Evidence of a SingStar Night, Recovered

I was sure there was no footage. I’d told Anne there was no footage. And then I found it on the memory card—a short video from late in the evening, shot by no one in particular, featuring both of us telling what I can only describe as a joke in the structural sense of the word. The punchline lands somewhere off-screen. We are very pleased with ourselves.

Anne is coherent. I am operating on what I described at the time as multivitamin juice, which is the kind of claim you make when you want plausible deniability about your state at 1am on a Tuesday. The camera adds nothing. We have not won any awards.