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Copyright 2010 Kris Mole

This book is dedicated to the memory of two people

My aunt Susan Proto 1952 - 2007

For whom I completed the challenge


My father Kevin Mole 1956 - 2009

For creating me


Terry Wogan plants a seed

I dont like the Eurovision Song Contest. I love it. And despite the loss of Terry Wogan, and despite being a heterosexual male, I always will. You see, for me as a young boy growing up poor firstly in South-East London and then Brighton, the Eurovision Song Contest provided me with my only glimpse of what the continent across the water had to offer: Jolly fat men with moustaches and the beautiful girls who loved them. And smiles. Big, cheesy and most importantly, genuine smiles. Europe took on mythical status in my pre-pubescent mind as, come the end of the annual Saturday nights entertainment, I would drift off to sleep with dreams that one day I too might get to experience that Promised Land. That one day I might be able to smile like the Europeans. I wasnt yet eight years old but already I was a confirmed Europhile. And this in itself was quite some feat, because at that age my limited vocabulary didnt yet include the word Europhile.

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