So put another dime in the jukebox, baby

God bless the jukebox. I've been fascinated by them since I was a child. And during a summer job working behind a bar, the jukebox kept me sane (well, just about). Standing there choosing the songs is a thrilling experience. I have a very methodical approach to them. I stand there eagerly scrolling through the various pages (are they pages? Well, I think so) to see what is on before making my choices. And I choose all of the songs I want to hear before putting any money in. I've made the elementary mistake before of choosing the first one and then spending the whole of the song stood there choosing the next 4. What a waste! And then there is that awful sinking feeling of whether or not you have entered the numbers correctly...

Perhaps the best thing about them is the fact that you can put on a few guilty pleasure songs - those pop songs that you publicly might disdain, but deep down you love. Or something that you haven't heard for ages. Or, and this might depend upon how much alcohol has been consumed, one that will get you and your friends singing.

However, of late, I've come to the conclusion that jukeboxes and me are not the best of friends. One of my favourite pubs has a fantastic jukebox. It's a bit of a RAWK pub, and the jukebox is pitched accordingly, with more than its fair share of goth too. My last 2 attempts at choosing songs have resulted it them playing 4 out of 5 before I had to leave (and leaving out No-One Knows, in spite of it being the first song I had chosen) and then choosing not to play any of them, but instead play wall to wall Pantera (OK, it was a Saturday night and the place was heaving, but still).

So, fast forward to last Monday. I am in a quiet pub in a smallish village. It's not busy and the barstaff switched on the jukebox just for us. So no-one had got in there before me. I know this. I stand there, going through all the steps as described above. I choose the 5 songs and carefully input the numbers and sit down expectantly. It plays my first choice for sure. And my second. And then that's it. No more. But horror or all horrors, it plays You're Beautiful by James Blunt. "Did you put this on?" asks my friend, jokingly (I assume). Now, I can live with not hearing the rest of my choices. But now everyone in that pub thinks I put on You're Beautiful.

I fear I will never be able to show my face there again.