I am slightly preoccupied with the upcoming Eurovision song contest. I can only explain this as being a reaction to having to watch it on the internet in Japan last year as opposed to watching it at home with my Ma as I have done for as long sa can remember (including the first year I was in Japan when I flew home for four days). And so the madness continued as Britain chose its entrant on Saturday.
While my friends were away at a fancy cottage celebrating Mandy's 30th birthday I was pressing redial like a man possessed, just to make sure a French girl singing a dreary celtic ballad didn't end up representing the UK. And who was the other option? Well, after the (s)hitlist had been whittled down from 6 to 2, we were left with French Cyndi and Scooch. Scooch had a marvellous top 5 hit in 2000, then two top 20 hits, then the singer made a baby with their producer and they decided childbirth and fizzy pop didn't mix. And then they came back from Eurovision with a song that you either love or hate. I hateed it until I saw them perform it, and now I love it. It's like a Carry On film set to music. And here it is:
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