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Every British karaoke night follows the same predictable arc, from the bloke who 'doesn't do singing' to the 11:47pm rendition of Wham! that unites the whole room. Frank Popp charts the full descent.
For one week, every decision — dinner, arguments, whether to text the ex — was settled by whatever song my music library spat out first. The results were chaotic, occasionally wise, and frankly biased towards Meat Loaf.
Frank Popp spent four consecutive Saturdays eating his way through every kebab shop, chippy and burger van within stumbling distance of town centre. The results are scientific, defamatory and possibly actionable.
Everyone hates the herring gull. Frank Popp disagrees, loudly, with chips. A mock-serious defence of the coast's most feared criminal, plus a definitive ranking of the boldest chip heists ever committed.
Frank Popp banned himself from spending a penny on entertainment for a month and lived off library lectures, back-room open mics and whatever Margaret's pottery club actually is. The result is a ranking of the five free events hiding in every UK town — and a surprising amount of feeling.