Burbling on.

Last night I got involved in a tape of Simon Schama extolling the poet John Donne and completely forgot the footie in Rome. Google is being very cagey about it but I gather we lost. Oh dear! My Dad would not be pleased but at least he’ll be delighted about Burnley’s success – along with Alastair Campbell.

How fickle are the public – and the judges of ‘Britain’s got Talent’ One minute you are the best thing since sliced bread and the next your champion Piers Morgan allows he may be a dough nut.. It’s hard for the young – first they are flavour of the month and then it’s’ kindly leave the stage.’

An unlikely act of a buxom lady singing arias whilst her partner arranges flowers was defended by Piers Morgan asserting that we didn’t know much about the Queen ( the winner will perform for her) but two things she was passionate about were flowers and classical music. Really? Gee gees, little yapping dogs, her duty to her country and possibly flowers but classical music? I don’t think so.

The surprise finalist is a portly Greek father and son doing a bare torsoed Greek dance with charming gusto, possibly familiar to Her Maj as she has been married to one since the fifties.

The Apprentice continues to fascinate; the awesome Deborah was actually given a kind word from the mentor Nick and James, the likeable clown was asked,

‘Was you nervous?’ by Sir Alan.

A riveting programme IMO and there is always at least one good laugh. The other mentor Margaret appeared later on the follow up programmes. What an attractive person she is.