Well, if you're going to get Pete Waterman to write a song, of course it's going to be a poppy seeded cheesefest. Our Eurovision entry, chosen last night, is exactly that. It takes you right back to the days of Rick Astley, Jason Donovan when he had the floppy hair and, basically, in my case, my youth. Those songs are the soundtrack to my late teens and early twenties, the time when I met and married Bob. I know, I could have chosen the path of decent music, but you really should go with what makes you feel good, and if that happens to be trash, well, c'est la vie!
However banal and cheesy those kinds of songs are, you actually can't listen to them and not smile. It just isn't possible. And if you really can't stand it, turn the ound down and look at the singer, the yong and not at all unpleasant looking Josh Dubovie. He was the only one of the 3 finalists who could actually sing the song in tune so it was probably good that the public voted for him.
There isn't a hope in hell of us winning with this song - it's too weak, and unless we pad out the peformance with some serious gimmicks, I doubt it will stand up against some of the other finalists. I expect it'll end up midfield - we'll pull in some points for the smile factor, but that's about it.
This is the guy we've all got to get behind before the final in Oslo in May:
I should probably apologise to Jennie, because this is the type of thing that might make her ill again just as she's starting to get better.