Sunday, 27 May 2012

Leave Engelbert Alone!

He's Jeanne's favourite singer, we've met him a few times and he's a really nice man. The only criticism that I have ever had of him is that he agreed to sing in the Eurovision Song Contest, a circus which over recent years has become little more than a showcase for untalented wailers and political voting. Europe hates the UK because of the way it's been treated by our government. Whoever we put into it is never going to win. Had Enge sung the same song, but for Albania (instead of the screeching woman with an onion on her head) the result would have been different.
And now they are attacking him. Kiwi entertainments 'expert' Dan Wooton mocks Enge for 'limping' past the finish line. This young man, who hails from Hutt, New Zealand, but sits on Lorraine's sofa looking like the Jabba variety and would have a hard task rolling past the finish line, let alone limping, thinks that Cheryl Cole is a great entertainer, therefore should never be taken seriously. He is however polite in his denunciation--unlike Frankie Boyle who tweeted last night:
Frankie Boyle@frankieboyle
We should throw Humperdink into the flames to start the Olympics

Frankie Boyle is a Scottish 'comedian' and recovering alcoholic whose only hope of ever making me laugh would be if I were to watch him being decapitated in a Glasgow shopping mall. This is the vile creep who made fun of people with Down's syndrome, who made dreadful comments about Katie Price's disabled son, and whose 'Jesus masturbation' sketch last year should in my opinion see him banned permanently from our television screens.

And of course, despite coming second-last, Engelbert wins hands down. The gentleman--and he is every inch so--has been around for fifty years, whereas ALL of the 'artistes' in last night's fiasco will undoubtedly have been forgotten by this time next year--pretty much like most of the X Factor/Voice/Britain's Got Talent contestants that Dan Wooton gets all mushy about. As for Mr Carbunkle, let's just hope that, like the equally puerile Bernard Manning, he will one day self-combust.

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