Can anyone explain to me what the bejeezus is up with Barry Manilow? He was on the Royal Variety Performance last night thrashing through the most knuckle-bitingly terrible 60s medley ever witnessed while grimacing like someone was pushing hot horseshoe nails under his eyelids."Here are sum myor HITS frum the MOEDOWN CATALARGH," he screamed like a man possessed by hatred as the lamest, most tinkly-tonkly version of some hackneyed old crap spooled out around him.
I stood there by the fridge (eating gorgonzola and breadsticks) with a look of sheer horror on my face (I'm guessing here, I mean, I can't be sure, but it felt like horror).
It was truly astonishing. There was a moment during What The World Needs Now Is Love Sweet Love when I thought the brutally tightened skin stretched over his face was going to burst and a vicious, people-eating lizard was going to pop out and devour OUR GRACIOUS QUEEN. But then James Morrison came on so, naturally, I put the cheese away, grabbed some seeds and turned off.
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