Angelberk Thumpletit

...And so we find ourselves lumbered with the foolishly named Engelbert Humperdinck as our entry for the Eurovision Song Contest. I don’t know who he is. I suspect my parents would even consider him to be old-fashioned. He sang that awful song “Please release Me.” He was awful in the 1960s. We’re told he’s from Leicester, although Wikipedia reliably informs me that Arnold George Dorsey was actually born in Madras, India. One wonders why he chose the silly name. I’m not interested enough to actually find out. The whole business is desperately tedious. The British public haven’t had any sort of say in the matter. A group of execs from the BBC with no interest or love for Eurovision obviously sat around a table to brainstorm an artist who might represent us. They started with the big names – all of whom said no – and then they went further and further into the past for “has-been/ never-was” inspiration. The job of writing the song goes to one of the fifteen thousand people who claim to have written “You’re Beautiful” with James Blunt. He’ll obviously not try very hard to write something decent, because he’ll no doubt hate Eurovision and think it would be a waste of a decent song. One wonders also why his CV is pinned on a ditty (which he co-wrote) ten years ago. Has he not had a hit since? Anyway, the result of all this is frighteningly obvious... Humperdinck, botoxed and glowing with fake tan, gets lumbered with an expensive sub-Amy Winehouse number, and Europe, yet again, laughs at us. The ONLY thing you need to know about Eurovision these days is that you’ll only win if you go in it for the right reasons... We haven’t gone in with the right reasons since 1998 - the year after we last won.
 

As a dirty protest to this ghastly news, I squirted toothpaste all over the sink whilst shouting “die Tinkletwat, die!”

Does anyone else share in my dismay that it’s already March?

And what of Pepys 300 years pre-eurovision? Well, he spent the morning chatting to Elizabeth in bed, telling her that they needed to lead a more frugal lifestyle. The incentive? Pepys was currently worth about 500l... but if he were to become worth 2000l, he’d buy a coach and horses, and they could lord it over everyone in London!