I’m organising the talent contest at youngest’s school. Think of me as Simon Cowell without the money or the chest hair.
It is taking over my life. There is no time for writing or parenting or even much smoking.
We are now almost at the end of the audition process and I can confirm that children have NOT got much talent.
Gymnastics feature heavily. Also groups of nine-year old girls mumbling along to highly inappropriate sexual pop lyrics. Many boys want to streetdance in a way which doesn’t resemble any form of dance, but is a curious and disturbing mix of gyrating and shuffling awkwardly whilst picking their noses.
Where’s the cute girl singing ‘Somewhere Over The Rainbow’ with a toy dog in a basket? Where are the boys tap-dancing to ‘Singing in the Rain’? Essentially, why are our children no longer singing about simple pleasures like the weather?
Instead the girls say they ‘wanna know what it is make the boys want more’ and the boys tell us ‘I drink too much and that’s an issue’.
Mind you, in my youth we warbled along to Abba’s Dancing Queen which features the lines, ‘you’re a teaser, you turn them on, leave them burning and then you’re gone.’
And Duran’s Save a Prayer, ‘some people call it a one night stand but we can call it paradise’ which is surely the only lyric of theirs which ever made any sense.
Oh, and how I burned, aged twelve to Sam Fox’s Touch Me, ‘like a tramp in the night, I was begging for you, to treat my body like you wanted to.’ Ah, when page three girls were our role-models…thems were the days.
We are drawing the line at songs about taking drugs or killing people with guns. I’m actively steering one or two of the better singers towards musical theatre, just to give us a break from all the whoring. And there’s a handful of cherubs who can actually play an actual instrument.
The final show promises to be an evening of agonising through-your-fingers viewing, punctuated by flashes of talent and wonderous cuteness.
My own solo performance will set the tone as I kick off the night with a live rendition of Touch Me, with full learned-from-the-video moves, dressed in a plunging lycra swimsuit.
Well you know what they say, if you can’t beat ’em, you might as well show ’em how it should be done and leave ’em with a totally nsfw traumatic memory…