"Haterz Gonna Hate"

I've just about managed fourteen posts this month. You know what that means fact-fans, I'm 45.16% of the way through the month! Celebratory woop, moderately enthusiastic party popper, wave miniature flag on a cocktail stick, recklessly open champagne accidentally blinding random passer-by with the cork. I actually have none of these celebratory items, so am currently imagining them with my brain (and I sincerely hope you are too, otherwise the rest of this may well be hugely pointless) and the results are unspeakably hilarious. There's far too much going on, which is ironic as it's in stark contrast to what's happened to me lately.

Yes, the reason I've not been writing about anything is because I haven't had anything to write about. There's always the possibility I can witter on about the idea of sitting in public for the sake of sitting in public. I could go on for a bit about how when I ordered a glass of coke and was asked "ice and lemon" - to which I replied "no ice" - I was disappointed when I got a solitary glass of coke, even though by stating no ice specifically, it implied I still wanted lemon. The yellow half-moon wasn't to be though and kept said glass of coke at a consistent level of bland cokeyness. (That went on longer than it could've done). I could go on about the telleh-box in't corner, who sits and shows me things like the people on The Apprentice being even douchier and more cringeworthy than last year (a feat never thought possible), the surprise of relentlessly watching Deal Or No Deal actually paying off when someone actually won the top prize for the first time in years, or my ever increasing fascination with this year's Eurovision coming to fruition and the "thanks be to God" exhalations that followed after the Jedward brothers (I don't care what anyone says, that is their surname to me now) didn't make it to victory... although, I must commend their backing singers on such an excellent performance! However, having the winner's song (from Azerbaijan, di'nt ya knoo?) stuck in my head for the best part of 27 minutes only made me realise it's just like that song by that Rihanna-botherer and the girl what won American Idol, except they've both turned white and neglected to include any emotion they once had.

We Brits, in fine form, have taken to our patented moaning sesh about how everyone else hates us, which is the true cause for our Eurovision failures. Apparently, the fact that people in 25 different countries managed to give the UK points this year got lost on some people. As much as I love a good moan, and a good bitch, and a good racial slur and xenophobic rant every now and then, the sane part of my mind refuses to deny that actually not coming last and actually not scoring nothing means that we have to face up to the fact that somehow, somewhere, people actually do like us. It just so happens that they don't like us enough, or at least as much as ten other countries.

In true Internet-style though, "haterz gonna hate", each to their own, the occasionally rational part of my inner monologue ain't gonna change the world. So while I try and put what is essentially an inoffensive piece of yearly entertainment into a decent perspective, I'll just bypass anyone and everyone who moans about how we would never win Eurovision again, even if we sent a supergroup comprising of Elton John, Queen, The Beatles, Leona Lewis, The Rolling Stones, Iron Maiden, Take That, Ozzy Osbourne, Cheryl Cole, that other one from Girls Aloud what isn't Cheryl Cole, The Spice Girls, Cliff Richard, Justin Bieber, Busted, the bloke from the Go Compare adverts, Bullet For My Valentine, The Saturdays, Coldplay, Lily Allen, La Roux, a parrot in a stylish fedora, Margarita Pracatan, the same people who won it this year, and a tin of spaghetti hoops.

Then again, we wouldn't really be allowed to since the rules dictate that each country can only have six people on the stage.