Sunday, 4 March 2012

Eurovision - Chu Me Takes The Hump

Hump for Great Britain.
One’s faithful houseboy, Chu Me, entered the breakfast room with a puzzled look on his face. This, combined with the erratic slapping of his flip-flops, and the history that he normally bumps into things when such puzzlement takes hold, one thought one had better investigate. One finished munching on the tip of Mr. Peppercorn, the Butcher’s, meaty sausage; swallowed; placed the silver fork on one’s plate and dabbed one’s mouth with the starched, white cotton serviette lifted from one’s lap.

“What troubles you so, poppet? You look a little distressed.” One enquired.

“Bumpy dick” He replied.

“Goodness! Have you caught it in something, dear? ”

“No! Any dirt bumpy dick!”

One slumped back in one’s chair and look at him completely dumbfounded.

“What on earth are you talking about, dear?! Have you had a stroke this morning? (he blushed) Do you wish one to call Dr. Pedic … and more importantly, after the reaction to the previous question - and bearing in mind we are taking breakfast – have you scrubbed your hands with Swarfega?”

The puzzled look on his face changed to one of frustration. His flip-flops carried him, like a soldier marching on parade, across the floor to the television in the corner of the room. Switching it on to BBC1, he skilfully navigated to the text page to clarify the confusion, by pointing at the screen.

“Ah! Engelbert Humperdinck, dear! Goodness, has he died? … again?”

Reading further into the story one discovered that Humpy was, in fact, very much alive! Nevertheless, one could not believe what one’s eyes were digesting as they scanned the lines of summarised text. At 76 years of age, it had been decided that he would be the person to represent Her Majesty’s realm in the upcoming Eurovision Song Contest on the 26th May.

Chu Me and I looked at each other … then to the screen … then to each other … then to the screen … then when we faced each other once more, he simply held out his hands at the side of him, shrugged his shoulders, turned and left the room shaking his head. The power of his silent gesticulation summed up the situation beautifully.

Only this week, on BBC Breakfast, one had heard the gorgeous Sian Williams and the delicious Bill Turnbull tell of a recent independent report that said our elderly were not being cared for as they should be. One hadn’t realised that the solution was to put them on a stage in an international song competition in front of millions! What next? Wheeling Dame Vera Lynn out on a pallet truck, getting her to sing There’ll Always Be An England, then reversing back during the applause with a rhythmic warning-beep-beep-beep-pallet truck reversing-beep-beep-beep to then take her back for tea, biscuits and a game of Whist before bath time?! One thinks not!

This year’s contest is being held in Baku, in Azerbaijan. This must not, of course, be confused with Ba’ku; the M-class planet from the Briar (no relation to Richard) Patch in Star Trek. That, you will all remember, was the planet that had a ring saturated with metaphasic radiation and kept the populous from aging a single day. One fancies Humpy’s ring has been saturated with an altogether different type of radiation (possibly sunbeds) and alas the secret of eternal youth has eluded him.

Humpy rehearsing: "Stop! Let's not do close ups, guys!

Though quite the hotty in his youth (one suspects making many a lady-fan’s undergarments disintegrate with admirational pleasure) he has sadly fallen into a state of disrepair. In some recent library pictures one has even noticed the waistband of his trousers resting higher than that of Simon Cowell! What will the world think of us? All the world’s yoof parading around with their low swinging gussets and buttocks hanging over their jeans and we’re doing the very opposite with the belt loops practically being slotted over an aging man’s ears! Is it the right contrast of styles one wonders?

Anyhoo …the BBC have decided on Humpy for his appeal throughout the world and the chance that the realm of Her Majesty may be saved from disgrace with all the Euro shenanigans and global interference that are currently going on. Let us pray they are right!

There is no information, as yet, as to the song that our veteran crooner will be performing, but let us hope it is nothing too racy; one over-eager thrust of his pelvis may result in an embarrassing onset of hip dysplasia … and that is most definitely not what one wants to see on the international stage from an icon of yesteryear.

Further more, unless the song is of a Latin nature, one would recommend he stands very still while performing. Too much movement may reproduce an unacceptable sound of castanets from the clicking of his knees and may very well penalise us on points.

Needless to say, our gladiator has been chosen and one wishes Humpy good luck. The nation is behind you offering their support ... and a chair should you need to have a sit down.