Recently on tv was to be seen a shocking thing: three youngish men attempting to carry on the Three Tenors tradition. If you've ever heard the original of Pavarotti, Domingo and Carreras, you'd know that it would take something very special to come close to being in the same league.
Try, they did: The Three Tenors, New and Improved. Or perhaps they're going for Next Generation. 3T/G2? They were three tanned, gleaming-toothed, flowing-haired, grinning Italian men. Buff and square-jawed, and golden-throated. Well, gold-plated anyway.
They perched on a tiny stage in the middle of what resembled - to the eyes and to the ears - a mariachi band. The stage was decked out like a Bollywood extravaganza: hot pink, orange, gold, purple and green.
Meanwhile, the three grinning singers launched into Italian classics - O sole mio to start with - while disconcertingly scanning the audience from top to bottom, left to right. No doubt they were looking for Mama, cause they'd never hear the end of it if they didn't at least wink in her direction.
They gave it their all, those long-locked lads, but it was rather too cringe-making and absolutely begged for negative comparison to the tenors who had gone before.