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One of my former neighbours in my home town of Newark-on-Trent, Nottinghamshire, was a widow whose son was a sailor in the merchant navy.

He did not like to tell his mother when he would be coming home on leave because he was afraid she would wor

ry if he was delayed on the way. But his mother always knew anyway — thanks to the family cat.

This pet was very attached to this young man and, an hour or two before he arrived, it sat on the front door mat and began miaowing loudly as if equipped with some sixth sense which told it that he was on the way.

The cat was never wrong and this early-warning system gave our neighbour time to get her son’s room ready and prepare him a meal in the certainty that he would turn up soon afterwards.

This is just one of many examples of animals displaying the apparently psychic tendencies more normally associated with some of their human counterparts.

Many cats seem to know, for example, when they are going to the vet’s — hiding away in the hope that their owners might get bored of looking for them and give up on the idea.

More dramatically, some animals seem to sense when their owners have had accidents or have died in distant places — as documented on my database of more than 5,000 case histories involving psychic phenomena in animals.

This includes 177 cases of dogs apparently responding to the death or suffering of their absent masters or mistresses, mostly by howling, whining or whimpering, and 62 accounts of cats showing similar signs of distress.

Conversely, in 32 instances people knew when their pet had died or was in dire need, even when they were many miles away at the time.

As we will see, these paranormal powers are of potentially huge value to human beings in the prediction of natural disasters, such as earthquakes and tsunamis.

And yet, as someone who has spent his entire adult life working as a biologist, holding senior academic posts both here and in the U.S., I am constantly surprised and frustrated by the refusal of my colleagues in the scientific world to take them seriously.

Without acknowledging such phenomena, it’s difficult to see how we can fully understand the behaviour of not just cats and dogs, but wild animals such as wolves.

The latter were studied by naturalist William Long who, in 1919, wrote a book that described the behaviour of a pack he had followed in Canada. He found separated members of wolf packs remained in contact with each other and responded to each other’s activities while many miles apart.

On one occasion, a limping female became separated from the pack Long was tracking and lay recovering in a den while the rest of the wolves moved on. Days passed, then suddenly the female reappeared among the pack.

The wolves’ responsiveness appeared to involve far more than simply following habitual paths, tracking scent trails, or hearing howling or other sounds, and Long wondered whether the same abilities might be found in pets.

He described some simple experiments with a friend’s dog which showed a knack for predicting its master’s return home. The dog would go to stand at the door soon after its owner had started his journey from work.

No one followed Long’s lead in researching this because, among scientists, the subject of telepathy has always been taboo. But in the Nineties I began asking friends and neighbours if they had ever noticed that their animals could anticipate when someone was coming home. I soon received dozens of reports, and by 2011 my database included more than 1,000 accounts of dogs and more than 600 of cats behaving in this way.

In telephone surveys in Britain and the U.S., I found that in about 50  per cent of dog-owning households and about 30  per cent of those with cats, the animals were said to anticipate the arrival of a member of the family. And it was not just dogs and cats that were involved. More than 20 other species showed similar behaviour, especially parrots and horses, but also a ferret, several bottle-fed lambs raised as pets, and pet geese.

Many of those I spoke to made it clear that the animals’ responses were not simply reactions to the sounds of familiar cars or footsteps in the street. They happened too long in advance of the person’s arrival, and often even when they came home by bus or train. It wasn’t just routine. Some people were plumbers, lawyers and taxi drivers who worked irregular hours, but still their pets were ready to welcome them when they got home.

Intrigued by this, I carried out experiments. The most extensive were with a terrier called Jaytee, who lived near Manchester with his owner Pam Smart. Initial observations showed that he was at the window on 85  per cent of the occasions when Pam returned home.

I wanted to be sure that this was not down to Jaytee learning Pam’s routine, or picking up on other clues, so in a series of more formal tests, we arranged for Pam to be at least five miles away from home during each test.

I then set up a camera to film Jaytee’s behaviour and each day selected a random time for Pam to return home, asking her to travel by taxi so as to avoid any cues which might have come from the engine noise of a familiar car. She did not know in advance when she would go home, but was informed when to do so by a pager.

On average, Jaytee was at the window only 4  per cent of the time during the main period of Pam’s absence, and 55  per cent of the time when she was on the way back.

I did similar experiments with other dogs, including a Rhodesian Ridgeback from Manchester called Kane.

He looked out of the window, with his paws on a front table, when his owner came home — but whereas Jaytee’s vigil began shortly before his owner set off, Kane took up his post only when his mistress was already homeward bound. Both these and the many other cases I have investigated suggest that these animals have some kind of telepathic bond with their owners.

Alongside telepathy, animals also seem to have a sense of impending doom. Since classical times, people have reported unusual animal behaviour before earthquakes, and I have collected much modern evidence.

In all these cases there were descriptions of wild and domesticated animals acting in fearful, anxious or unusual ways. Some possible explanations are that they pick up vibrations in the earth’s surface, or detect subterranean gases.

Or perhaps, as I am suggesting, animals rely on something which defies current scientific understanding. In the case of the Asian tsunami on December 26, 2004, they appeared to be aware that something was happening half an hour beforehand.

According to villagers in Bang Koey, Thailand, a herd of buffalo were grazing by the beach when they suddenly lifted their heads and looked out to sea, ears standing upright. They turned and stampeded up the hill, followed by bewildered villagers, whose lives were thereby saved.

Some animals anticipate other kinds of natural disaster such as avalanches, and even man-made catastrophes. During World War II, many families relied on their pets’ behaviour to warn them of air raids before official warnings were given.

The animal reactions occurred when enemy planes were still hundreds of miles away, long before the animals could have heard them coming, and some dogs in London anticipated the explosion of German V-2 rockets, even though these missiles were supersonic and could not have been heard in advance.

With very few exceptions, the ability of animals to anticipate disasters has been ignored by Western scientists, but things are very different elsewhere.

Since the Seventies, in earthquake-prone areas of China, the authorities have encouraged people to report unusual animal behaviour. In several cases they have issued warnings that enabled cities to be evacuated hours before earthquakes struck, saving tens of thousands of lives.

By paying attention to unusual animal behaviour, earthquake and tsunami warning systems might be feasible in parts of the world that are at risk from these disasters. Millions of people could be asked to take part in this project.

They could be told what kinds of behaviour animals might show if a disaster were imminent. If people noticed such behaviour, they would telephone a hotline. A computer system would analyse the places of origin of the messages. If there was an unusually large number, it would signal an alarm, and display on a map the places from which the calls were coming.

Exploring the potential for animal-based warning systems would cost relatively little. If it turns out that they are indeed reacting to subtle, physical changes, then seismologists should be able to use instruments to detect these and to make better predictions themselves.

If, on the other hand, it turns out that what we call ‘presentiment’ plays a part, we should embrace it, regardless of whether or not we understand it. Ignoring it, or trying to explain it away, will leave us less protected against the unexpected ravages of nature.

One of my former neighbours in my home town of Newark-on-Trent, Nottinghamshire, was a widow whose son was a sailor in the merchant navy.
He did not like to tell his mother when he would be coming home on leave because he was afraid she would worry if he was delayed on the way. But his mother always knew anyway — thanks to the family cat.
This pet was very attached to this young man and, an hour or two before he arrived, it sat on the front door mat and began miaowing loudly as if equipped with some sixth sense which told it that he was on the way.
The cat was never wrong and this early-warning system gave our neighbour time to get her son’s room ready and prepare him a meal in the certainty that he would turn up soon afterwards.
This is just one of many examples of animals displaying the apparently psychic tendencies more normally associated with some of their human counterparts.
Many cats seem to know, for example, when they are going to the vet’s — hiding away in the hope that their owners might get bored of looking for them and give up on the idea.
More dramatically, some animals seem to sense when their owners have had accidents or have died in distant places — as documented on my database of more than 5,000 case histories involving psychic phenomena in animals.
This includes 177 cases of dogs apparently responding to the death or suffering of their absent masters or mistresses, mostly by howling, whining or whimpering, and 62 accounts of cats showing similar signs of distress.
Conversely, in 32 instances people knew when their pet had died or was in dire need, even when they were many miles away at the time.
As we will see, these paranormal powers are of potentially huge value to human beings in the prediction of natural disasters, such as earthquakes and tsunamis.
And yet, as someone who has spent his entire adult life working as a biologist, holding senior academic posts both here and in the U.S., I am constantly surprised and frustrated by the refusal of my colleagues in the scientific world to take them seriously.
In 50 per cent of dog-owning households and 30 per cent of those with cats, the animals were said to anticipate the arrival of a family member
Without acknowledging such phenomena, it’s difficult to see how we can fully understand the behaviour of not just cats and dogs, but wild animals such as wolves.
The latter were studied by naturalist William Long who, in 1919, wrote a book that described the behaviour of a pack he had followed in Canada. He found separated members of wolf packs remained in contact with each other and responded to each other’s activities while many miles apart.
On one occasion, a limping female became separated from the pack Long was tracking and lay recovering in a den while the rest of the wolves moved on. Days passed, then suddenly the female reappeared among the pack.
The wolves’ responsiveness appeared to involve far more than simply following habitual paths, tracking scent trails, or hearing howling or other sounds, and Long wondered whether the same abilities might be found in pets.
He described some simple experiments with a friend’s dog which showed a knack for predicting its master’s return home. The dog would go to stand at the door soon after its owner had started his journey from work.
No one followed Long’s lead in researching this because, among scientists, the subject of telepathy has always been taboo. But in the Nineties I began asking friends and neighbours if they had ever noticed that their animals could anticipate when someone was coming home. I soon received dozens of reports, and by 2011 my database included more than 1,000 accounts of dogs and more than 600 of cats behaving in this way.
In telephone surveys in Britain and the U.S., I found that in about 50  per cent of dog-owning households and about 30  per cent of those with cats, the animals were said to anticipate the arrival of a member of the family. And it was not just dogs and cats that were involved. More than 20 other species showed similar behaviour, especially parrots and horses, but also a ferret, several bottle-fed lambs raised as pets, and pet geese.
Many cats seem to know, for example, when they are going to the vet’s – hiding away in the hope that their owners might get bored of looking for them
Many of those I spoke to made it clear that the animals’ responses were not simply reactions to the sounds of familiar cars or footsteps in the street. They happened too long in advance of the person’s arrival, and often even when they came home by bus or train. It wasn’t just routine. Some people were plumbers, lawyers and taxi drivers who worked irregular hours, but still their pets were ready to welcome them when they got home.
Intrigued by this, I carried out experiments. The most extensive were with a terrier called Jaytee, who lived near Manchester with his owner Pam Smart. Initial observations showed that he was at the window on 85  per cent of the occasions when Pam returned home.
I wanted to be sure that this was not down to Jaytee learning Pam’s routine, or picking up on other clues, so in a series of more formal tests, we arranged for Pam to be at least five miles away from home during each test.
I then set up a camera to film Jaytee’s behaviour and each day selected a random time for Pam to return home, asking her to travel by taxi so as to avoid any cues which might have come from the engine noise of a familiar car. She did not know in advance when she would go home, but was informed when to do so by a pager.
On average, Jaytee was at the window only 4  per cent of the time during the main period of Pam’s absence, and 55  per cent of the time when she was on the way back.
I did similar experiments with other dogs, including a Rhodesian Ridgeback from Manchester called Kane.
He looked out of the window, with his paws on a front table, when his owner came home — but whereas Jaytee’s vigil began shortly before his owner set off, Kane took up his post only when his mistress was already homeward bound. Both these and the many other cases I have investigated suggest that these animals have some kind of telepathic bond with their owners.
Alongside telepathy, animals also seem to have a sense of impending doom. Since classical times, people have reported unusual animal behaviour before earthquakes, and I have collected much modern evidence.
In all these cases there were descriptions of wild and domesticated animals acting in fearful, anxious or unusual ways. Some possible explanations are that they pick up vibrations in the earth’s surface, or detect subterranean gases.
The ability of animals to anticipate disasters have been ignored by Western scientists… but things are very different elsewhere
Or perhaps, as I am suggesting, animals rely on something which defies current scientific understanding. In the case of the Asian tsunami on December 26, 2004, they appeared to be aware that something was happening half an hour beforehand.
According to villagers in Bang Koey, Thailand, a herd of buffalo were grazing by the beach when they suddenly lifted their heads and looked out to sea, ears standing upright. They turned and stampeded up the hill, followed by bewildered villagers, whose lives were thereby saved.
Some animals anticipate other kinds of natural disaster such as avalanches, and even man-made catastrophes. During World War II, many families relied on their pets’ behaviour to warn them of air raids before official warnings were given.
The animal reactions occurred when enemy planes were still hundreds of miles away, long before the animals could have heard them coming, and some dogs in London anticipated the explosion of German V-2 rockets, even though these missiles were supersonic and could not have been heard in advance.
With very few exceptions, the ability of animals to anticipate disasters has been ignored by Western scientists, but things are very different elsewhere.
Since the Seventies, in earthquake-prone areas of China, the authorities have encouraged people to report unusual animal behaviour. In several cases they have issued warnings that enabled cities to be evacuated hours before earthquakes struck, saving tens of thousands of lives.
By paying attention to unusual animal behaviour, earthquake and tsunami warning systems might be feasible in parts of the world that are at risk from these disasters. Millions of people could be asked to take part in this project.
They could be told what kinds of behaviour animals might show if a disaster were imminent. If people noticed such behaviour, they would telephone a hotline. A computer system would analyse the places of origin of the messages. If there was an unusually large number, it would signal an alarm, and display on a map the places from which the calls were coming.
Exploring the potential for animal-based warning systems would cost relatively little. If it turns out that they are indeed reacting to subtle, physical changes, then seismologists should be able to use instruments to detect these and to make better predictions themselves.
If, on the other hand, it turns out that what we call ‘presentiment’ plays a part, we should embrace it, regardless of whether or not we understand it. Ignoring it, or trying to explain it away, will leave us less protected against the unexpected ravages of nature.

Source Daily Mail
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Why we ALL have psychic powers: How thought premonitions and telepathy are more common than we think

Like many mothers who feared for their family’s safety during World War II, Mona Miller was evacuated from London to the peaceful seaside

town of Babbacombe in Devon.

It seemed like a wise precaution but, shortly after her arrival there with her young children, Mrs Miller became increasingly uneasy.

‘I had a feeling that I must leave Devon and return home,’ she told me.

‘At first I dismissed the idea; why leave when I was so happy and contented despite the war going on around me?

‘But the feeling increased. The walls of my room seemed to speak to me: “Go home to London.” I resisted the call for about four months then, one day, like a flash of light, I knew we must leave.

‘On a Saturday in late 1942, we travelled back to London and a few days later I received a letter from a friend in Devon.

‘“Thank God you took the children on Saturday,” she wrote. “Early Sunday morning, Jerry dropped three bombs and one fell on the house where you were living, demolishing it, and killing all the neighbours on either side.”’

Mrs Miller was far from the only person to experience such forebodings during the war.

Three years later, in the spring of 1945, U.S. serviceman Charles Bernuth took part in the invasion of Germany and, shortly after crossing the Rhine, found himself driving along the autobahn one night with two officers.

He described how a ‘still, small voice’ within him told him there was something wrong with the road ahead.

‘I stopped, amid the groans and jeers of the other two. I started walking along the road.

‘About 50 yards from where I had left the jeep, I found out what was wrong.

‘We were about to go over a bridge — only the bridge wasn’t there. It had been blown up and there was a sheer drop of about 75ft.’

Both Mrs Miller and Charles Bernuth had experienced presentiments — feelings that something was going to happen without knowing what it would be.

These differ from premonitions, where the person involved has an insight into what lies ahead, as when 16-year-old Carole Davies visited a London amusement arcade during the Seventies.

‘While standing looking out into the night, I had a sense of danger,’ she recalled.

‘Then I saw what looked like a picture in front of me showing people on the floor with tiles and metal girders on them. I realised that this was to happen here. I began to shout at people to get out. No one listened.’

Together with her friends, Carole hurried out and went to a nearby cafe.

As they sat inside, they heard sirens in the street outside. A weakness in the arcade building’s structure had brought its roof and walls crashing down on those within.

‘We all ran down the road to see what had happened,’ Carole remembered.

‘It was just as I had seen. A man I had shouted at was being pulled from under the debris.’

Like Mona Miller and Charles Bernuth before her, Carole was convinced she owed her life to her mysterious sixth sense, a notion which you might expect a scientist of my background to dismiss out of hand.

I am a biologist who has studied, researched and taught at both Cambridge and Harvard, and held senior academic posts on both sides of the Atlantic.

Yet I’ve long believed that presentiments, premonitions and other psychic phenomena such as telepathy should be taken more seriously by my scientific colleagues.

My fascination with this subject began during the Sixties when I was a graduate student in the biochemistry department at Cambridge University.

This was not long after the South African writer Laurens van der Post had published his accounts of life with the Bushmen of the Kalahari desert.

Like most traditional societies, theirs was one in which telepathy was not only taken for granted, but put to practical use, as van der Post saw when his hosts hunted down and killed an eland antelope many miles from camp.

As they were driving back in a Land Rover laden with meat, he asked one of the Bushmen how those back at camp would react when they learned of this success.

‘They already know — we Bushmen have a wire here,’ he replied, tapping his chest. ‘It brings us news.’

He was comparing their method of communication with the white man’s telegram or ‘wire’.

Sure enough, when they approached the camp, the people were singing the ‘Eland Song’ and preparing to give the hunters the greatest of welcomes.

Many other travellers in Africa have reported that people seemed to know when loved ones were coming home.

The same would occur in rural Norway, where the inhabitants developed a special word — vardoger — for the anticipation of arrivals.

Similarly, accounts I read of the ‘second sight’ of some inhabitants of the Scottish Highlands included visions of arrivals before the person in question appeared.

But none of this convinced me, converted as I was to the dogma of ‘materialism’ which has dominated scientific thought since the late 19th century, and still does so today.

According to materialists, science will eventually explain everything in terms of physics and chemistry.

And anything that cannot be thus explained can be dismissed as illusory.

Educated in this tradition, I adopted the standard dismissive attitude when the subject of telepathy came up in the laboratory tearoom one day.

I was gently taken to task by Sir Rudolph Peters, one of the doyens of British biochemistry. He was a kindly man with twinkly eyes and more curiosity than most people half his age.

He told me of an ophthalmologist friend who had a severely disabled and mentally retarded young boy as a patient.

Although he was almost blind, he seemed able to read the letters on the optician’s chart very well, but only when his mother was looking at them.

The only explanation appeared to be some form of telepathic communication between the two, and in 1968 Sir Rudolph conducted an experiment in which the boy correctly guessed many of the written numbers or words shown to his mother, even though they were sitting on either side of a screen which prevented him from picking up any visual or auditory cues.

Sir Rudolph concluded that this telepathy had developed to an unusual degree because of the boy’s extreme needs and his mother’s desire to help him.

But, as I discovered, even laboratory experiments involving strangers had produced results which, if less marked, were still compelling.

For example, the years between 1880 and 1939 saw something of a boom in early psychical research, with the publication of more than 186 studies involving trials in which subjects guessed which randomly selected cards a ‘sender’ was looking at.

When the four million individual results were combined in a statistical procedure called meta-analysis, the overall results were hugely significant because they were considerably more accurate than would have been expected from random chance.

Later experiments during the Seventies involved subjects sleeping in a soundproofed laboratory while a ‘sender’ in another room, and in some cases another building, opened a sealed package containing a randomly selected picture and concentrated on it, trying to influence the subject’s dream.

Sometimes the thought transference was very clear: one subject described having dreamed about buying tickets for a prize fight while the sender was looking at a picture of a boxing match.

Occasionally, it was more symbolic, as when the subject dreamed of a dead rat in a cigar box while the sender was looking at a picture of a dead gangster in a coffin. But in 450 such trials the overall results were very significantly above the chance level.

My research has included more than 4,000 cases of psychic phenomena. Many, like Mona Miller’s near-miss in the Blitz, involve mothers.

Hundreds told me that during the months they were breastfeeding, they’d know when their baby needed them, even from miles away, because they began secreting breast milk.

With the help of a midwife, I studied nine nursing mothers in North London during a two-month period, and found that their unexpected ‘let-downs’ of milk when they were separated from their babies very often coincided with their infants experiencing distress.

The odds against this occurring by chance as often as it did were a billion to one, and this telepathic connection makes good evolutionary sense.

Mothers who could tell at a distance when their babies were unhappy would tend to have babies that survived better than those of insensitive mothers.

Such connections often seem to continue even when the children have grown up, with many stories on my database concerning mothers who had an urge to get in touch with their children when they could not have known by any conventional means that they were in trouble.

Many would do so by telephone, the method of communication most commonly mentioned in reports of telepathic experiences in general.

Many people told me they had thought of someone for no apparent reason, and then that person rang in a way that seemed uncanny. Or they knew who was calling when the phone rang, even before they picked up the receiver.

I designed an experiment to test this, a simplified version of which you can try through my website.

This involved asking subjects for the names and phone numbers of four friends or family members before placing them alone in a room with a landline telephone with no caller ID.

I then selected one of the four callers at random and asked them to phone the subject, who had to say who was on the line before answering.

By guessing at random, subjects would have been right about one time in four, or 25 per cent.

In fact, the average hit rate was 45 per cent, very significantly above the level of chance, and these results have been replicated independently at universities in Germany and Holland.

In attempting to explain such phenomena, we need to look far beyond the traditional scientific view that everything is essentially material or physical, including the human mind.

That materialist approach was summed up by Francis Crick, who in 1962 shared a Nobel Prize for the discovery of the structure of DNA.

‘You, your joys and your sorrows, your memories and your ambitions, your sense of personal identity and free will, are in fact no more than the behaviour of a vast assembly of nerve cells and their associated molecules,’ he wrote.

Crick spoke for the scientific mainstream, as did influential neuroscientist Susan Greenfield when she described seeing an exposed brain in an operating theatre.

‘This is all there was to (the patient) Sarah, or indeed to any of us,’ she reflected in a paper published in 2000.

‘We are but sludgy brains and somehow a character and mind are generated in this soupy mess.’

Yet this idea that our minds are fixed physically inside our heads, and that consciousness is nothing but a by-product of the activity of the brain, runs contrary to our everyday experience.

When we look around us, the images of the things we see are outside us, not in our heads. The feelings in my fingers are in my fingers, not in my head.

The human intuitions I have described fit better with the ‘field theory’ of minds.

We are used to the fact that fields exist both within and outside material objects such as magnets and mobile phones, and there is reason to believe that our minds have similar fields which have their roots within our brains, but also extend beyond them.

Extraordinary though this sounds, it’s supported by studies of another remarkable psychic phenomenon — the sense of being stared at.

Most people have felt someone looking at them from behind, turned around and met the person’s eyes.

And most people have experienced the converse: making someone turn around by staring at them.

In extensive surveys in Europe and North America, between 70 and 97 per cent of adults and children reported such experiences.

In a series of interviews with police officers, surveillance personnel and soldiers, I discovered most felt that some people seemed to know they were being observed, even though the watchers were well hidden.

‘A lot of times the crook will just get a feeling that things aren’t right,’ I was told by one narcotics officer.

‘We often have someone look right in our direction even though he can’t see us. A lot of times we’re inside a vehicle.’

Surprisingly, laboratory tests have shown that the sense of being stared at works even when people are looked at on screens, rather than directly.

Our emotional response can be measured by the activity of our sweat glands and this increases in many subjects being watched on CCTV, even though they are unaware of their response.

All this suggests that, whether through direct staring or CCTV, we are capable of ‘touching’ each other with our sight — further evidence that our minds are not confined to the inside of our brains.

With telepathic communication, it seems that these fields somehow interact at a distance, picking up feelings, needs or thoughts across space.

As for presentiments and premonitions, these imply links across time, as we tune into our future mental states.

That such links are real was suggested by a series of experiments in the U.S. and Holland over the past 20 years.

These measured responses to a series of noxious smells, mild electric shocks, emotive words and provocative photographs, interspersed with calming stimuli which had no physiological effect on subjects at all.

No one, not even the experimenters, knew what kind of stimuli the computer involved would produce next, but in a significant number of cases the subjects reacted to the unpleasant stimuli some three or four seconds in advance, somehow connecting with their future selves who would be experiencing the stimuli for real.

These findings are fascinating in themselves but, as I will explain in Monday’s Mail, psychic phenomena are not restricted to human beings.

There are amazing stories of telepathy and premonitions of disaster in many other species, including pet dogs.

As for exactly how such phenomena operate, it may be years before we understand them, but an important first step is for scientists to acknowledge that they exist, and that the minds of both animals and humans interact in as yet unexplained ways.

Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2083279/Psychic-powers-How-thought-premonitions-telepathy-common-think.html#ixzz1il6rKhfH

ASTROLOGER Russell Grant has been asked to represent MALTA at Eurovision.

Organisers from the Mediterranean island got in touch with the flamboyant star after he impressed them with his turn on Strictly Come Dancing.

But Russell i

nstead wants to sing for the UK and has even had a song written especially for the competition.

A pal said: “He was thrilled but a bit perplexed to be asked to represent Malta as he has no link to the country.

“The only Maltesers he knows are in a box of chocolates. But he was really flattered.

“The premise would be Russell singing and then breaking off into a dance with Strictly partner Flavia.”

But a source close to Russell — who released a version of The Supremes hit No Matter What Sign You Are in 1983 — said he would turn the approach down because Russ has set his sights on representing the UK.

Hayley Sanderson, one of the singers on Strictly, has written Russell a song to perform and early talks have already been held with the Beeb.

Article from The Sun