...would like to ...erm... Adopt, actually!

It's official.  The Hubs and I would just like to make it formally known that we *heart the pants (not literally of course) off* of Sir Andrew Lloyd Webber.  He's such a screamingly delightful star.  Isn't he, though?  He's like the Royal Family's equivalent of the Queen having a damned good knees up in your local pub.  After having had a bash at Bingo beforehand.  And helping herself to a little polystyrene pot of cockles and whelks.
I suppose what I'm trying to say  is that although he's got a Lordship and he's obviously from a very privileged  background, that he's just so flippin' well normal and nice and squizzles of fun, that you just want to have him in your front room with his demi-royal slippers on having a bloody good laugh with you - well don't you?
Well, we do.
It's the faces he pulls that make our evening's entertainment so much fun.  He doesn't seem to mind that the world and his wife are watching him gurning with such spontaneous vigour and contagious delight, and we love the man to bits.  So much so that we'd like to adopt him please.
And his chair.  I mean throne.
We can't wait for another episode of 'Dorothy' tonight.  In fact my pulse quickens at the very thought.  It has everything.  Sob-stories, talented hopefuls (where were THEY when the X-Factor did their auditions, because most of these are far, far superior in their singing capabilities than some of Simon's finalists?)  The Lord making us laugh our socks off - oh, and the cheeky, chirpy relationship he has with Graham Norton is just the dazzling icing on the Saturday night Cake.
Ahhh... life couldn't get much better, could it?