It’s embarrassing to admit, I’ll be honest, but I used to be able to sing.

Why embarrassing? Well, those who know me well enough – that is, those I’ve got drunk with – will know that my 3am 'Mr Brightside' is anything but tuneful. And that’s how it should be – there’s no point singing well in a club or at pre-drinks.

But there’s still – still – a little part of me that wishes I could sing like I used to.

At least, maybe a little like I used to. I was an angelic little child, with the full package of blonde hair, blue eyes, wings, and my voice was almost painfully high. Of course, being a vaguely musical kid meant that I was shoehorned into various choirs and the like, to the point where I even got a solo in our primary school end-of-year play. There’s probably a shitty 2006 vintage DVD sitting on a shelf at home somewhere.

At secondary school, I carried on with the choirs for a little while, first as a treble (very high voice for the mercifully uninitiated) and then as a much less high voiced alto. Shortly after that change, however, my voice broke completely and has remained shattered ever since.

Now, I can’t say I particularly miss sounding like a squirrel on helium, but the singing was another matter entirely. What probably made it worse was that music was starting to become really easy to discover. Remember Bluetoothing songs on the school bus?

I made the mistake of casting my musical net a little wider than most, and between Freddie Mercury and Mika, I both convinced half the year group I was gay and realised/decided/assumed just how bad my voice really was. This became a bit of a problem given that I was trying to pass music exams – if you’ve ever had to sit one you’ll know there’s an aural component involving some singing.

In all seriousness, it was terrifying for a short, spotty teenage kid who hadn’t practised his violin nearly enough as it was…

Stepping back from my tale of woe for a moment, I was hardly the only one whom this happened to – there were plenty of guys who suffered a debilitating case of can’t-tune-it-itis. In all honesty, the House Choirs of our school music competitions were always made of an outsized number of mimes. That doesn’t change the fact, though, that if you can sing – male or female – then you’re a lucky bastard, and, while you can train your singing voice, it certainly comes easier to some than to others.

I guess what it boils down to is whether it’s best to have sung and lost, or to have never sung at all.

Editor’s note: this is the first in a short series on choirs. Keep an eye out in the coming weeks for the next installments. If you’d like to share your experiences, email music@varsity.co.uk