I went to a concert last night.
I know some of you think that my definition of culture is knowing how to drink a pint of Guinness properly and others of you think I never have anything positive to say about anything, but I would like to point out that I can be extremely cultured and refined when I so wish.
Last nights concert consisted of a choir of 520 kids [yes – that’s right – five hundred and twenty] all around the age of ten or eleven, and an orchestra. That is one hell of a belter of lungpower. Much to my surprise, they all sang brilliantly and in tune, and I thoroughly enjoyed myself.
The Granddaughter, Puppychild was one of the 520 and you can clearly see her in this photograph what my daughter took –
She's over there in the far bank just to the right of the cellist, but there's no need for me to point out the obvious?
The one drawback to the whole experience was the seating. I really hate those fucking plastic chairs. By the end of the concert my arse was completely numb and I couldn't even walk in a straight line after. Naturally I am all aches and pains today, but it was worth it.
At some point yesterday I was misfortunate enough to hear Ireland's entry for the Eurovision Song Contest. God love her but our singer is crap – lousy diction, she sings through her nose and her singing is as bland as a bucket full of yogurt. The song is shite too, but surely that goes without saying? The thought occurred to me last night that it would be a great idea to enter those 520 kids to represent Ireland next year. Their singing is a thousand times better that the usual crud that's entered and they would make a very refreshing change from the idiotic farce pieces that countries enter these days. 520 kids is a lot easier on the eye that a fucking bearded transvestite?
Ireland would have to win.
Can you just imagine the combined fury of 520 irate mothers?
Video courtesy of our K8