Eurovision Joy Contest
It’s been a month and a half since my last blog, and there’s a very good reason: I’ve been way too busy wetting myself in anticipation of the Eurovision song contest to do anything else. Let’s face it, it’s the pinnacle of musical achievement and we all secretly wished we were Norway’s version of Enrique Iglesias, Alexander Rybak, when he smashed the points record and was told by about a dozen recent Miss World contestants, as they revealed their country had awarded him douze points, that he was really cute. Now I’m sure he doesn’t want to be a puppy but I bet his tail was wagging as he was mentally planning his European tour of Miss World Contestants, mapping out his journey over their hills and valleys. But then a scarier woman flirted with him. She looked like she'd been a Miss World contestant in 1970 and she’d done nothing since then apart from eat fish, bench-press railway sleepers and sunbathe as though old Sol might run out of hydrogen any second and ruin her chances in a competition to grow her own stab-proof leathery skin. I swear if she’d wanted a little piece of Nordic boy, if she’d decided to take him off to a secluded fjord and have her ogreish way with him, he could have tried to fend her off with a combat knife and he’d have broken the blade on her tawny hide. Honestly, pure bark. Like Iggy Pop crossed with a walnut.
Rock and Roll Slurpy
Other than that, this month we’ve been writing new stuff and playing a few gigs supporting people more famous than us but not nearly as good looking, like Tommy Sparks and the King Blues. Next month we’re supporting The Streets and I reckon we’re gonna have a straight walk off. Beauty is in the eyes of the beholded and Slurp’s has got some right sparklers. And he’s talented, just check out this video of his unconscious circus act, at Latitude festival, balancing hoola hoops on his conk while he snores as though he’s reinventing wind instruments. He turned up to stage half hour before we were due on that day, after falling asleep stood up in a urinal and then waking up tied to a chair with a dress on and makeup. He’s well rock and roll, thinks he’s Cliff Richard or something: