England - Glee or Porgy & Bess

Mrs M seems to be having withdrawal symptoms from the remote control. This object, once so regularly used to flick between various episodes of Next Top Model, has hardly left my side during the World Cup.

Realising her pain at such a loss I suggested she chose something good for us to watch whilst a less important match was on last night.

To my horror her remote controlling finger stopped pressing when we arrived at the latest American import known as Glee.

I had seen the odd trailer for the show so knew that it might be the type that I wouldn't fully appreciate. Nothing, however, could have prepared my for what I was about to witness.

For those who haven't seen it let me explain. It is set in a stateside high school and uses all the usual reference points to carry the story. Their are jocks and geeks and other groupings of American teens showing an unhealthy amount of disrespect for one another.

This series has a twist, however, in that it takes one such group and draws them together around their passion for performing arts, making them more Gleeks than Geeks.

This is where the show takes a turn for the worse as we are subjected to cheesy song after cheesy song set in a storyline that adds further helpings of savoury dairy products.

For this middle aged nothern male it represented sheer pain.

When I was at school the only musical we came near to performing was Porgy and Bess. That was because we had a substitute drama teacher for one term. She was full of enthusiasm and convinced that the boys in the class should experience the joy of singing in front of other people.

In truth, most of us were secretly drawn to the idea but we had to maintain our usual air of disdain for fear of being ridiculled.

Cast in the lead roll I was required to sing 'nobody knows the trouble I'm in' using my best deep south accent.

I didn't have such an accent and the teacher kept asking me to make it sound less like a football chant.

The following term our substitute teacher had disappeared along with my embarrasment at having to sing in front of the class.

Perhaps this is why I revile at the sight of these over enthusiastic American teenagers turning every mundane incident into a song.

I mentioned to Mrs M, in passing, that I preferred the football and she sang, with full musical actions, the main song from Glee as she went to make a brew.

'Don't stop believing'

'You might need that song when you watch the England match tomorrow' she said with a smile.

As long as I don't end up singing 'nobody knows the trouble I'm in' I replied hoping that my footballing dreams won't be shattered.