Anyhoo (yes "anyway" was already taken).

Fulfilling the stereotype, I noticed an entry on one of the Guardian's blogs [it's vanished so here's the Londonist thing it linked] about this year's entries in the Eurovision Song Contest and was bored enough to plough into the Youtubed mire. Not only does previewing the entries eliminate most of the point of the Eurovision, which is to watch in ever mounting awe (largely in the old fashioned sense), noting musical influences (often through singing the words to that ripped off), suppressing sniggers at the highly rehearsed impromptu moves, and trying to guess which countries have a local Wogan (that and avoiding asking "is that a country now?"), but it simply extends the agony. Predictions so far: the continent will experience a spike in electricity demand during the Polish entry as most of the audience puts the kettle on or goes to the loo. This year's Ye Gods Award will go to Ireland, whose entry may cause Wogan to collapse into a coma unable to unpatriotically lampoon what ought to be a nil-pointser except it'll gain the pisstake vote (can you tell Ireland don't want to win the bankrupting ordeal?).

And seeing this year's Israeli entry is a cover of the Sugababes' Push the Button (well, the highly phlegmed Hebrew bit might be), albeit using the Mushrum Kloud remix version, and so is unlikely to gain the Iranian vote (what's the betting they'll be in it by 2010?), what other songs lurk out there? Greece could do drawn inspiration from the theme to the Italian Job with The Cyprus Adoration Society, Malta could do Boom banga bang and never forgiven you for it, France could do I want to teach the world to sing: en français, naturellement, the Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia (the one not in Greece) could do Neighbours (yeah, ok, half the continent could do that with One Big Country/Many Little Countries as a B-side), Moldova could do Over Here, No, Down a Bit and we could do Don't Mention the War (whichever one you choose).

But moving on: genes for jeans. I apparently have the wrong ones, because I cannot find a pair of jeans which are not repulsive in the extreme or fit so badly that I look like a MC Hammer tribute act. Even the astoundingly boring M&S stuff induces such a abominable degree of abdominal crushing that I end up thinking peanut butter on kippers is a good idea. And before any of you suggest I might be trying on the wrong size, the M&S 34 slinked downwards yet the 32 was a misaligned corset, although the 31 and 33 inch inside legs both were the same length, so I guess the makers have mislaid their vacuum packed two-hundred-and-ninety-nine-million-seven-hundred-and-ninety-two-thousand-four-hundred-and-fifty-eighth of a second of light.

But getting away from the tear inducing (that's as in liquid not rent asunder) jeans - the lachrymosery was swiftly cured by being classed as a 32 in Gap (I know they are probably just outpsyching me by using a generous cut, but it works as long as I don't remember I used to be an unbuyable 30) - I just want some that aren't hideous or which make me look likewise. Thanks to the enduring whimmery of an industry which thought reinvention too taxing and so which settled on the eternal accessorising of the wheel, it seems nigh on impossible to buy just jeans. Trousers made of demin cannot now be bought without smiley faces on the pockets, whiskers round the genitals (medically known as the "crotchal area") or artistically engineered fur-lined ventilation holes (those I already have combine trends by having ventilation holes in the crotchal area). It would also be nice if they were not cut for those who have suffered vastly more gravity than I have and hence did not look like blue jodhpurs.

And yet I refuse to believe that the more callipygian among us are either expected to submit to distressing pre-stressed flammery (coffee-stains are very now) or look like a half-launched spinnaker (or both). While I may not be the purest paragon of pulchritude (ooh nice, if only I could learn to say the last word without finding myself saying "putridtude") the sideview of my thighs and buttocks is more a P than the D, B or O apparently used as a model by most shops. Is the obesity epidemic really so bad that now even adult clothing comes with room to grow?

I tried to get all 2.0 and so found a video which told me I need a low-rise bootcut as well as why the wider woman should not tuck, but I'm not sure I want to take advice from a man who is such an ardent devotee of the attention grabbing use of complementary colours that his skin is enhanced to bring out his blue eyes (do I need to add a "think about it" or have you got there?). And what counts as low rise anyway? Because on me all trousers sit with the top of the waist band just below the top of my hip bone, and yet some people are odd enough to wear the waist at the waist or, odder still, think it should be supporting the mons pubis or otherwise girding their loins (always great to see them try to run up escalators).

So once more I turn to you, dear, faithful, occasionally deranged readers. Where do you get yours? Because I just want something fairly simple and not even the most boring and therefore reliable shop on the high street does them any more (and by the looks of things, mostly the novel interpretation of stitching, Burton's current stock probably will not survive for the best part of a decade unlike those I currently have on). So any ideas for where to get jeans that look like jeans and fit like jeans? Actually, opening it up a bit more, what defines if a pair of jeans fit (yes, this is me wondering if I've missed the memo telling me they're meant to look like that).

But enough of this because I'm fairly sure none of you will say anything (barring the one who invariably finds something to say regardless of how mundane the post). However a random fault in the digital transmission last weekend meant I saw part of BBC News 24's technology programme, which included a section of time wasting websites of the week. One is songtapper.com which Ronseally lets one tap out the rhythm of a song and it will tell you what it is. Presumably the point of it is that it helps if one cannot remember the name, but it's mildly diverting even if you can.

But only on the third attempt did it recognise the second song I tried (the first was Tom's Diner). I'm not sure if it keeps the midi files of the attempts after I've left the site but in case it does, here's the first it recognised. Can you tell what it is yet? Here's the answer, which it only got after I dropped the final line which proved too convoluted for something in the finger, aged spacebar, chunter-prone computer, the internet in general, their site and interpretative software chain.

I've just noticed the other results include the Raiders of the Lost Ark and There's No Business Like Show Business, which suggest it just grabs popular names and flings a few out in the hope of one will be right.

And as my lack of musicality is once more too apparent, I'm stopping (just as soon as I get it to give me a Vega).

Anyhoo,

PS. Just checked TD by SV was in the database: their version sounds like they're avoiding copyright issues. And I did one that sounds like the song yet it still thinks it's either Mariah Carey or Lilly Allen.