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AAt this point, the majority of Britons know that we should not get excited about the Eurovision contest. After all, we do not need a sparkling international gala to remind us that we are without friends and alone in the world, because we have everything that happens in the news for that.
But in spite of everything, in the midst of all this despair hides a tiny ray of hope; a little reminder that we still have something to offer to Europe. That's right: Rylan Clark-Neal will read the British votes.
It is a small role, but nevertheless prestigious. In recent years, Scott Mills, Richard Osman and Nigella Lawson have done the same, but this time, the fit is perfect. More than that; it looks like a coronation. I did not expect to hear those words from my mouth, but Rylan is pretty much our last national treasure.
His departure could not have been less propitious, like the candidate for the bland joke, the nuclear complexion and bleach, of the 2012 X-Factor. At the time, he was a larger badog of Wagner, a little more self-conscious, destined to collapse his meager life early by waving like an anesthetized mermaid among disinterested Butlins until he disappears from the map.
A beginning less than propitious … Rylan in The X-Factor.
And yet, miraculously, he climbed the ladder at breakneck speed. He co-organized a spin-off of Big Brother. He played a role in This Morning which consisted mainly of monitoring Kim Kardashian's Twitter feed. He presented a TV game show of the ITV series on the theme of the Russian doll, short and truly disconcerting, called Babushka. But then the BBC co-opted it into the big league; giving him host spots on The One Show, co-host of Strictly: It Takes Two and his radio show 2, last weekend. He is part of the establishment now. He is involved in our culture. It should be sewn on flags.
His rise is unlikely, but it makes sense. What had pushed him through X-Factor all these years was not his voice, but his charm and quick wit. He possessed a good dose of self-depreciation, falling back whenever he became too confident or emotional. And he seems to take his job very seriously, identifying and working on his boundaries at every turn. I met Rylan exactly once before, and he repeated, word for word, what I had written about him years before. Which was mortifying to me, of course, but showed a dedication to his profession that you do not find often.
Representing the country during the evening of Eurovision is a strange and thankless job. Hold on to the role and you'll get lost in the spokespeople's soup, but inject too much personality into your relay and you'll become the most hated person in Europe for 30 seconds. To really succeed – especially without the international recognition of a Nigella – you have to be a murderer. Introduce yourself, do your work, mark and disappear again.
But I think it may be the job that Rylan has always been meant for. He has a distinctive look, like General Zod in the moonlight on TOWIE, who will point it out. He has a keen mind, so he can comment on the events of the night in an intelligent and succinct manner. He is smart enough to read numbers on a screen. He has everything.
Rylan may be the only thing that can cheer us up. Who knows, he could also cheer the whole of Eurovision. It could do so well that the whole European people get together in an act of compbadion and forgive us for everything. Without exaggeration, Rylan could become nothing less than the man who saves Brexit alone. No pressure.
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