For the first time in history, the Weasel is going to miss the Eurovision Song Contest.
I am elsewhere on that night.
To be honest, I am not that bothered anymore. It has ceased to be a celebration of camp schlock and become some sort of politically-correct-o-meter of thinly disguised national allegiance voting. It has also become so foully bad. Despite predicting that Lordi would win by a mile two years ago, my interest in it is now at an all time low. Like Sir Terry, I am done with it.
The British entry is, as could be predicted, dire. Total and utter gravy granules from the sick simulator.
It's here if you don't believe me:
The opening words are "I've been down". The woman, Jade, does not go into detail about who she has been down on, but I guess she had to kiss a lot of frogs to get the gig. The song is called "It's my time". Yes, Jade, it may be your time - about five minutes max.
Any hot tips for a winner would be appreciated, but don't work too hard on it.