Engelbert For Europe!

After the astonishing and totally surprising news this week that Russia had re-elected Vladimir Putin to the Presidency, and that Chelsea had sacked another manager, came the relatively banal announcement that the BBC had decided to select Engelbert Humperdinck to represent the UK in the Eurovision Song Contest, to be held in Azerbaijan in May.  Clearly this is a stroke of either outrageous folly or extreme genius.  Given that the very last thing the UK would want is to actually host the damned thing in 2013, I reckon that this is the BBC deliberately making absolutely sure (if there had ever been any doubt in the first place) that the UK will not win.  Mind you, The Hump is supposed to be very big in Eastern Europe, so you never know...........

Euro Old Vision

Dave Cameron’s had a bad time in Europe,

And lost his old credibility,

So decided he needed a new push,

And that’s when he rang the BBC. 

“It’s Eurovision soon,” he told them,

“And we’ve got to get back into the game,

So get your thinking caps on, right smartish,

It’s time we gave them a very big name.”

So the Tristrams and Jocastas pondered,

And they had themselves a big think,

And the star that they came up with

Was that crooner Englebert Humperdinck.

It was the biggest name they could think of:

They had to check he was still alive,

But they tracked him down to Hollywood,

And there they found him, aged seventy-five. 

Now it’s forty years since he last had a hit,

And I can’t admit to being a great fan,

So you won’t be surprised if I wonder

How well he’ll get on in Azerbaijan. 

With his sideburns, tight trousers and frilly cuffs,

His aging good looks and suggestive wink,

What will the Poles and Lithuanians

Make of our Englebert Humperdinck?

He’s really Gerry Dorsey from Leicester,

A club singer with plenty of schmaltz.

He calls himself “The King Of Romance”,

But this idea smacks of The Last Waltz. 

Not since the glory days of Cliff Richard,

Lulu, Sandie Shaw and Mary Hopkin

Have we ever had much of a chance,                   

By entering someone who knew how to sing.

But he could surprise all of the pundits,

With his crooning, gurning and emoting.

He could pull in the “old geezer” vote,

And overwhelm all the tactical voting. 

If you’re set on Making Your Mind Up,

Before he’s even had a chance to sing,

You could be in for a big surprise

And find he’s no Puppet On A String.

This contest amongst the Brotherhood Of Man

Is full of excitement, glitter and whizz,

And should he pull off the impossible,

We’ll celebrate with a glass of Buck’s Fizz. 

Please Release Me, Let Me Go to the contest,

Let me wear some Black Lace or some Blue,

Let’s get past the award of “Nul Points”,

Let it not be his Waterloo. 

Save All Your Kisses for Old Ember,

As the results in the balance hang.

Don’t forget his Lesbian Seagull,

And go out with a Boom-Bang-A-Bang. 

Let’s tune in to this International farrago,

Let’s support our very own chump,

Let’s get past all tastelessness,

And stop all Europe from getting The Hump. 

Well, There Goes My Everything, I guess,

Let’s not discuss this with malice,

But we don’t want to host the next contest,

Nor drink from this poisoned chalice.

Perhaps genius, or desperation -

We’ll see when Humpy takes his bow.

They won’t be laughing in Europe –

No – they’ll have to take us seriously now!!

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2012