‘Quite frankly, we have nothing to lose’: how the UK is going weird for its 2026 Eurovision entry

Look Mum No Computer is an inventor, musician and founder of a museum in Ramsgate. His YouTube videos range from restoring 1920s cars to creating synthesiser odysseys

Truth be told, this probably isn’t going to be a great Eurovision. Five countries – Iceland, Ireland, the Netherlands, Slovenia and Spain – are boycotting the contest over the continued inclusion of Israel. Additionally, and perhaps not coincidentally, television viewership is falling through the floor. In 2024, the BBC’s coverage lost a quarter of its viewers year on year, and last year another million deserted it.

But there is good news on the horizon. The UK has just announced its entry for this year, and it seems like we’ve reacted to all this existential uncertainty by going weird. This, it turns out, is going to be the year of Look Mum No Computer.

Described by the BBC as “a multitalented solo artist, experimental singer/songwriter, live electronics performer and composer, inventor of unique musical machines, and self-proclaimed Eurovision fan”, Look Mum No Computer is the alias of former Zibra frontman Sam Battle. He has built a dedicated army of subscribers on his YouTube channel, which includes videos featuring him restoring a 1929 car and composing an instrumental track for abandoned synthesisers, AKA The Binmen’s Lament.

Now, depending on how you look at things, this is either a very smart move by the UK or a clear demonstration of everything that’s wrong with the world. To those in the latter group, the Eurovision song contest is still the respectably mainstream music competition, the home of Cliff Richards, Lulu and Brotherhood of Man. I suspect that one reaction to the Look Mum No Computer announcement will be along the lines of: “Why don’t we just enter Oasis and smash it?”

Which would be missing the point a bit. For starters, the last thing Oasis want is to come 15th in a European singing competition (which they would, because European mistrust of the British runs deeper than any love of nostalgic 1990s indie music). Also, Oasis would stick out like a sore thumb at Eurovision, much more than Look Mum No Computer.

Just look at some of the acts that other countries have announced this year. Greece has entered an 8-bit techno song performed by someone who looks as if his day job is entertaining children dressed as Elmo. Denmark has put a goth in a fish tank. Moldova has entered a song that is literally called Viva, Moldova!, a move that will only feasibly resonate with Moldovans.

The point is that Eurovision is no longer the home of Abba. It is now the home of entries such as Latvia’s 2022 song Eat Your Salad, the original version of which featured the lyrics “Instead of meat, I eat veggies and pussy” and, quite frankly, it’s about time we tried to keep up.

In the last 15 years, the UK has cracked Eurovision’s top 10 just once, with Sam Ryder in 2022. Aside from that, none of our strategies have worked. We tried nostalgia, only to watch Bonnie Tyler come 19th and Engelbert Humperdinck come 25th. We tried entering reality television acts, and watched as Lucie Jones came 15th and Michael Rice came last. Even lining things up perfectly with the current mood of Eurovision, as we did with Olly Alexander in 2024, couldn’t get us any higher than 18th.

So, quite frankly, we have nothing to lose. And if that means entering a guy who runs a museum for “experimental and obsolete scientific and musical technology” in Ramsgate and whose name makes me die a little bit every time I have to type it out, then so be it. We’re going to lose anyway, so what the hell.

That said, let’s retain some hope. All we know is that Look Mum No Computer has entered Eurovision. We haven’t heard a song yet. It may be a banger. It may go on to redefine what Eurovision is. It will, I predict, certainly be singular.

The most recent video on Look Mum No Computer’s YouTube channel is a clip from a concert, where he attempts to piece together a Blur song on the fly, all by himself, on a bank of ancient electronic instruments. It’s fascinating to watch, it’s as if Ed Sheeran had accidentally joined the BBC Radiophonic Workshop. Plus, it has to be said, the (German) audience went nuts for it. That has to be worth a shot, right?