Here we are then. We’re a collection of countries faced with an Engelbert Humperdinck song, designed to win us the Eurovision Song Contest against all those tactical voting swine who hated us since we invaded some oil-rich nations.
Not tanning oil, which Humperdinck is so clearly fond of.
And you’re probably willing us to stop stalling for time, and get on with playing you the damned record he’ll be performing while wearing a Union Jack tanga-brief under his expensive suit that inevitably reeks of Hai Karate. Click over the jump and you’ll hear it then.








