Miscellaneous

Not that impressive, I've seen many far more massive tents.

Well, what did they expect when they put a "Massive Tent Display" banner on the side of a large tent? I think they meant "Massive Display of Tents".

It reminds me of the recent Brighton Argos headline: "Gunmen shooting dead seagulls in their dozens". Why would dozens of gunmen want to shoot dead seagulls?

Well, at least David Laws could relax and enjoy Eurovision without worrying about the deficit.

Up until a few years ago I would never have watched Eurovision. I hated it. I detested the concept, hated the music, and found the people insufferably irritating. To an extent that's still true, I'm still too much of a lover of music. The concept is still ridiculous and the people are still moronic, but at least I can laugh at them and their crap music now. My rage has subsided. Either I'm more in touch with my inner gay or I've got to an age where I'm resigned to the fact that crap like this exists and there's no point objecting to it. It's like I've realised that most people just have dreadful taste in music and I may as well join the morons, or perhaps; most people also think it's painful to watch but don't actually like music enough to rail against this annual festival of lowest common denominator Eurotrash.

For what it's worth I most enjoyed the Armenian entry. Fit bird, nice bit of Armenian flute, a guy doing interpretive dance with a pot and, most importantly, the song was about my favourite seed: The apricot stone.

I've always thought that there weren't enough songs about apricot stones. The winning song (sadly not about a bit of fruit that you throw in the bin) was sung by a very annoying girl from Germany, and I was astounded to find that I not only recognised her song but knew it very well - it's been playing on MTV across Europe for weeks and I must have heard it at least twice a day when I was on holiday.

How fucking annoying is that? Both the song and the fact that it has the advantage of being well known all over mainland Europe.

Canadian readers of this blog will probably now better understand British euroscepticism.

She's Claire. She's from Lewes. She makes stunning jewellery. And last night she was on the BBC's High Street Dreams.

She's also a friend of mine. It's a shame that the programme was on opposite England's game against Mexico, so in case you missed it there's a link below to watch again.

Website: Claire English
Watch Again: High Street Dreams on BBC iPlayer

While you're waiting to discover which knob-end will be Prime Minister, enjoy some La Gomerian whistling, recorded last week at Hotel Jardin Tecina.

Yes, yes...it does sound a bit like the Clangers, but it's actually an ancient form of communication that predates the Spanish colonisation of the Canary Islands, by how long no one knows. It is now under threat and has been recognised by Unesco as part of the Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity. Explanatory Silbo Gomero video here and Facebook fan site here.

As you may have guessed by the lack of blogging, I am away on my hols, and missing the General Election. But, belatedly, I would like to wish you all a happy May Day - I trust that you were out procreating, as is traditional, rather than smashing up city centres.

This is Tam Lyn Retold, a folk tune from the Scottish Borders given a superb contemporary English reworking by Eliza Carthy and Benjamin Zephaniah.

Visit: St Georges Day Game

I'm not usually a fan of England football songs, but this is brilliant, and infectious enough to make it onto the terraces if it gets picked up.

Post it around the internet, make it a hit or end up with something shocking.

Vote for your favourite England World Cup Song.

There are three English Free Press bloggers mentioned in this peculiar article by Michael Bywater. They must be doing something right.

They're all at it. Self-proclaimed masters of the shadowy international scandium oligopoly (a.k.a. Tim Worstall) are doing it economically. The bloke from The Devil's Kitchen is doing it by saying "fuck" a lot, and who can blame him?...

It is oddly comforting, as we approach the most dismal general election in living memory (with a Government that has presided over war, sleaze and economic collapse facing an opposition which has presided over the Bullingdon Club) to know that anybody with an internet connection can read Not Proud of Britain or Slugger O'Toole, Man In A Shed or Never Trust A Hippy, as well as drop in on more established mainstream commentators such as the BBC's political editor Nick Robinson or the Adam Smith Institute.

Michael's piece reads like a thinly-veiled promise to hold bloggers to account in the same way that bloggers have been holding the 'received opinion' of traditional journalists to account. Great, bloggers love a good old ding-dong with the press almost as much as they do with the political classes. This could be fun!

There's nothing I like better than the cut and thrust of intellectual debate, which is why I was delighted to receive this email from Henry Le Boyer:

you are a fucking moron, and a nationalist freak. You yourself are no better than a Nazi and I would not be surprised if you were on the BNP list.

A future Labour Party MP in the making.

I've always been a fan of Mr Scruff's line drawings, but a singing lemon - now that's genius.