Well our daughter Becksy is staying a few days with us, which is lovely. She’s a big music fan and she was delighted that our daughter Ems set up Spotify on her mobile phone/Bose speaker yesterday after our belated Xmas dinner. We’ve heard quite a lot of Westlife booming out from her bedroom since. But we don’t mind. It takes us back to when the girls were all young and blasting out 3 different lots of music from their rooms. Happy days eh.
C wasn’t feeling at all well yesterday so I ended up watching TV alone last evening and found myself zapping across the channels in search of something – anything – interesting to watch. And I chanced upon the Eurovision Song Contest. Oh boy I know it sounds desperate but it was a not the worst thing I’ve ever, ever seen. That said the UK’s entry was a dire little ditty penned by those hit-makers from the 80’s Mike Stock and Pete Waterman and sung by a Rick Astley look-alike, 19 year old Josh. It sounded like something Rick might have recorded and rejected back then as a B-side. Perhaps you won’t be surprised that our entry came in a very creditable last. At least we got a whole 10 points this time. That being the total number of points cast by the voting public from 25 countries.
News reaches me that the BBC have only gone and scraped the absolute dregs from the bottom of the Saturday night light entertainment barrel by commissioning old rubber face Lord Andrew LLoyd Webber to write next year’s UK entry for the Eurovision song contest. Of course there’s more to it, sadly, as the Beeb will turn this into yet another prime time programme entitled Your Country Needs You starring all the usual camp followers as they hunt for the next big talent, who will then go on to perform the Webber song at the event. It makes me happy to be a thousand miles away.
Pasta Paulie 