Renee & Renato: Say Cheeeeeeeeeeeese ...

I've been watching a show of vintage music videos and just HAD to share this one with you.

Apparently this is what the Brits decided was the best song in existence at Christmas in 1982 (I can't believe us sometimes)

* Disclaimer: The author does not take ANY responsibility for any mental scarring, disturbance or downright trauma in any way, shape or form that may ensue as a result of viewing the attached clip




PLOTLINE:
As far as I can tell, the "plot" is that hapless Renato, an italian sausage maker, maybe a little too fond of his own wares and of ill-fitting knitwear, meets (possibly through a prisoners pen-pal network) and falls in love with what appears to be a female impersonator with the most dubious wig and hands like a WWF wrestler. I suspect that Renee the shemale has busted out of jail and is on the run, unable to wait for the tickle of Renato's moustache any longer (which could explain his .. sorry, her reluctance to face the camera).

He wines and dines his love, doing all the things he swore he would, even fulfilling his number one fantasy of serenading the lovely Renee under the moon and stars above and chucking her the reddest rose he could find, (complete with comedy slide whistle effect) all under a dreamy, fuzzy wuzzy haze of soft focus.

Ahh, who said romance is dead?

But ... Oh No! Heartbreak awaits our lusty lothario. Following a night of semi-naked staring at each other, Renee decides she's off, probably to Vegas where s/he's heard Barry Manilow is auditioning for Copacabana boys, leaving a devastated Renato to sob into his Mortadella.

However, all's well that ends well ... as they bid their touching farewells they realise they're just not right for each other; his garlic breath makes her eyes water, endangering her carefully applied blue eyeshadow and she nearly discovers the fact that he wears a weave. Suddenly parting isn't such sweet sorrow and with both breathing big sighs of relief they wave fondly as Renee flies into the smog ... er sunset, never to meet again.

But they'll always have Rome.