The 2010 D&AD family has become a tight, well-oiled machine that pumps out answers to queries like a Gatling gun and our logging skills could rival even the hardiest of barrel-chested lumberjacks. We had also become pretty good friends with witty and even risqué banter being battered around the office like so many of the now lost ping-pong balls, with, I might add, not one formal complaint or lawsuit in sight. We were standing on solid ground.

But was everything really as good as it seemed? Were we all just pretending to like each other for the sake of a peaceful workplace? Our unity needed to be tested and there is no better way to do this than with the ancient Japanese tradition of ritual humiliation known as Karaoke.

The spot for this experiment was called Epoch, sitting secretly stowed away at the back of a secondhand Japanese bookstore situated in Soho, that itself is disguised as a launderette... anonymity was key you see. I had booked a room for 18 people a week in advance, which is essential if you are planning to make a visit. 18 is the maximum number of people you can have and those that had said they were definitely planning to attend had fretted about whether we could reach that number of people. Because of this it was agreed that friends and friends of friends and in fact anyone remotely connected to a D&AD worker could attend. Even so, as we gathered outside the entrance the prospect of many less than needed turning looked increasingly like a bitter reality. 

I ventured into the little bookstore disguised as a launderette to explain that we had arrived and that we would like to begin singing if that was okay. The owner is a squat Japanese man whose direct and curt manner always gives me the impression that whatever I say or do is wrong. I stammered to him in Japanese who I was and how many of us there were so far. I also explained that more would most likely be joining us later, to which he didn't seem unpleased. I ran back outside and ushered everyone in as quickly as possible while trying to let him have as little contact with them as possible. 

We scurried down stairs and entered the largest of the Karaoke rooms. It was a fairly large space with painted black walls, faux-leather clad benches running the length of three sides and then, at the helm, the karaoke system. A set of speakers were placed at each side of an enormous projection screen that covered the wall. In front of this stood two mic stands each gripping the all important microphones. This was no ordinary karaoke box; this was one with a stage.

At first, as not everyone had arrived and no one was remotely inebriated yet, the room felt very big and only seemed to inhibit further the duty of someone going first. Being the host I decided to break the ice and jump straight in. I managed to rope Katie in to a tentative but ultimately stirring version of Journey's Don't Stop Believing made infamous by the TV show Glee. We sang our little hearts out and by the end the floodgates had been opened. 

Everyone began fervently ferreting through the English language songbooks looking for their favourite tunes. Of course everyone was then stumped by the touch-screen input device, which is in Japanese and could not be made into English. But so spurred on by the desire to sing, people overcame this and with more people arriving and the booze flowing, soon the list of songs to sing stacked up on the screen.

More songs were sung than anyone can remember but there were many highlights that everyone can. There was Jana and my electrifying and heartbreaking duet of I would do anything for love (but I won't do that) by Meat Loaf that made those in attendance truly connect with their inner rock ballad selves and really mull over what they personally wouldn't do for love. It in the words of Meat Loaf, “Don’t ever, ever, ever stop rocking!” Next up we had Jana again, but this time accompanied by Sanne doing an angst ridden and estrogen filled Ironic by Alanis Morrisette. All the men in the room immediately began apologising for anything they might have done/will do wrong. Then, a very sweet moment came when the young lovers Richard and Katie sang a heartwarming rendition of ABC by The Jackson 5. Even the drunkest of us couldn't help but feel all gooey inside. Yum. Following the cute couple the girls stepped up to the plate again lead by Precious in a ghetto-tastic version of Bootylicious by Destiny’s Child. Precious outshone everyone by proving that she could actually sing.

In all the joy and booty shaking however, there was controversy when Sam and I performed a borderline racist rap-along of Punjabi MC's Mundian to Bach Ke. Unable to speak Punjabi and too drunk to follow the phonetic spellings, what came out was a slur of gibberish in the accent of Apu Nahasapeemapetilon. Oh dear. Fortunately no one was offended so we quickly moved on to a round of nu-metal in the form of Slipknot's Wait and Bleed. It's not the best karaoke place in the world considering there was no Stevie 'have you seen my wife because I haven't' Wonder available but more Slipknot than you could shake a manufactured-teenage-rebellion stick at. It was left to the rock goddess Lauren to provided the obligatory death metal roar. Incredibly she also managed to add a death metal roar for songs where it wasn't needed such as the Beastie Boys' Fight for Your Right to Party. Although personally I think it added rather than retracted from the performance.

Other great moments came in the form Akin’s brilliant version of Bob Marley’s Buffalo Soldier that left us all longing for Babylon Zoo’s Spaceman and James' unique style of dancing that kept the party pumping throughout.

The seminal moment that brought the evening to a crescendo of unadulterated love and acceptance by all was the Boys Vs Girls extreme MAX OUT battling choral version of A Whole New World by Jasmine & Aladdin. Boys on one side, girls on the other, each group sang their part with gusto, fuelled by the alcohol in our veins and the love in our hearts.  Even though the boys were helped by the honorary lad Lisa, the girls won out just adding that little bit something extra. Sheer karaoke brilliance.

So has the 2010 D&AD family remained the tight, well-oiled machine that it was before that evening? Simply, yes. Maybe we are even better than we were before. Karaoke is the mighty equalizer so it was unlikely this wouldn’t have been the result. It was a fantastic night, so good in fact we are already planning the next time.

I am going to end this piece by presenting a stream of consciousness/poem (thing!), written by Sanne. Sanne provides a drunken view of her highlights of the evening:

"The overpriced Mexican across the road; the girl's toilet that was so squished you felt like the walls were hugging you as you were forced to rest your head on the sink while you peed; the Japanese bookshop; the taste of beer plus gin and tonic and the way it seemed to triple its alcohol content when drunk in that little black room; the clock that dictated if a song was too long (or your singing was not entertaining enough; the jumping around; the owner peeking his head in every once in a while and counting heads; the sudden kick out (who thought Japanese were so timely!); the trying to open a beer bottle with a lighter, and failing; the oh-my-God-I-can’t-believe-I-have-to-face-these-people-again-when-I’m-sober-Monday-morning-syndrome; the being-told-not-to-sing-Dude-Looks-Like-a-Lady-by-Aerosmith-because-it-would-be-offensive-to-a-mystery-guest-in-the-room; the amount of time it took to figure out how to use the remote; the still cluelessness as to what that gadget with a screen was, which was always in someone else's lap; the way everyone faced the screen which made you wonder if there were hidden cameras... and 'could you really do anything with this space?'; the surreal corridor filled with doors that were separating you from other mysterious people who seemed much more decent than us; the strange almost scared feeling that you were in a film set lurking about the corridors upstairs; the amount of racket we were making; Precious can actually sing! DAMN!; James' declaration of obsessive love for Peter (on a napkin); the way we started by singing songs in an orderly fashion, waiting our turn and how it turned into a mass karaoke orgy shout-out!; the owner's face as we scrounged coins together to pay; the love, the love, the love; the way you feel when you walk out into the open street wondering ‘what the hell was that!?’ followed by a distinct sensation that nags at you saying ‘what do I do next?’ and feel slightly disheartened by the way the group disintegrates so mysteriously... and you realise you are lost; hello bed."