1)set the scene b4 u set the table between my legs zad hehehe

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The thought of watching the Eurovision each year excited me. It wasn't even a tradition anymore - it was a ritual. Each year, my family and I sat by the tv each night egging on our dear country, sighing when they'd be cheated out of points (in our opinion) and cheering loudly when they'd top the charts and even sometimes, hail that stocky clear trophy above their heads while crying with joy.
   My singing career has been an almost total flop thus far and so you can only imagine my absolute horror at being selected to represent my country this year.

User1019380192:  Times are bad for Great Britain !

             Dilfhunter30290: Pathetic! Who even is this bitch??

Redditdaddylookingforakitten2619: Another loss for England already! No need to even turn the TV on!!

Scrolling through the pits of Twitter probably was not the best idea for my self esteem but I really couldn't help it.

'Ugh bitch if you don't put that phone down!' , my sister smacks her heavily glossed up lips together with an eye roll as she slaps my hand. I'm shaken back to the awful reality and the fact that I'm sitting in the back of a long, black car on my way to the rehearsal center.
'Seriously! Who cares what those Twitter freaks are saying ! Your up and coming okay? There's nothing wrong with that!'

I sigh heavily and turn away from her to look out of the window at the quickly passing street fronts. It's so busy in Rotterdam, and the blurred faces of the people on the street do nothing but add to my knowledge of the fact that we are fast approaching the venue.

'Wow... I gasp, as suddenly the Rotterdam Ahoy venue comes into view. It's huge..bigger than anything I've ever performed in before. (Not hard considering it's only been pubs, clubs and a once off small feature at a festival)

There's so many limos parked outside trying to get into the underground parking, I look like a peasant in this beat up van looking hire. I sink into my seat and cover my eyes in embarrassment.

'Dayyymmmm...' my sister hums as she perks up in her seat, looking out of the semi tinted window at who I presume is another contestant hopping out of a limo. I glance over. He's all dressed up some kind of expensive outfit that glistens subtly in the sunlight. I'm literally wearing a tracksuit.

'I can't wear this!' I shriek to my sister, my makeup free face which is FAR from seamless turning red.

'Tssk...girl!' She rolls her eyes, 'not my problem!'

I feel tears begin to whell up in my eyes and at my visible discomfort she thankfully begins to crack.

'Ugh!!' She huffs, violently grabbing her rucksack from her feet and digging through it.

'There.' She grunts, throwing a mix of random clothes at me that she carries around for "fashion emergencies"

'If you dare lose even one sequin or bead...I'll literally kill you.'

———-

The run into the bathroom after discreetly proving my identity to the legion of security set ups at the entrance to this huge building was the fastest I've ever done.
My sisters clothes barely fit me and instant in shock as I look at myself in the mirror. A painfully tight mini skirt in white that hugs every inch of my lower half accompanied by a full length skintight bodysuit that dips to the belly button and is embroidered with small, glistening specks of holographic glitter. I look like I'm on my way to the local strip club. I try everything! Letting down my hair and re tying it before letting it fall loosely down again, squatting and stretching to try make the material bond to me more naturally, but nothing works. I look out of place, frumpy and like I'm cosplaying as somebody else.

I'm about to collapse onto the ground and frantically pray to my ancestors when there's a sharp knock at the door.

'Hello? Is anyone in here? It's been occupied for a long time.' , a mans voice with an obvious accent calls out.

I hold my breath hoping he will just leave and think that the lock is broken but he knocks again seconds later.

' Hellooo?' His voice wavers before he loses his patience and I hear him walking off. His habitual clanking of the keys around his neck allow me to pin him as a security worker.

I sigh forcibly and huff in frustration as I rise to my feet again. I look awful. But I could look worse.

'It's fine.' I whisper to myself weakly in the tall mirror attached to the wall.

'Y/N representing Britain ? Please to the main hall.'

Yalll idk this is finna b a short and sweet story so I'm sorry it's so rushed compared my *other* work

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