Do you ever have one of those moments where you’re sat on the internet, scrolling through Twitter, looking at cat pictures on Tumblr or using Google to stalk run a 101 on your latest crush and think… “of all the things we could use the internet for, THIS is what I’m doing.” Well ladies and gentlemen, this evening I came across something on the internet which made me poo poo me ever doubting the way in which I spend my spare time procrastinating on Google/Facebook and I felt it my public duty to share it with you.

Ed Sheeran covering Drunk In Love.

Now, you may be recoiling in horror at your screen and be thinking I’ve spent my Friday evening using some hallucinogenic chemicals or, if you’re anything like me, angels may have just been ringing in your ears/your nether regions are feeling like a Pointer Sisters song.

Let me repeat that for you. Ed Sheeran. Covering. Drunk. In. Love.

It’s one of those things which I think has to be seen to be believed. Ready to see it?

Now Ed performed a small snippet of this on On Air with Ryan Seacrest (the pearly white toothed and perma tanned adonis one from American Idol) and there was such a buzz for it that this time Ed’s on the radio, he cracks out the whole song.

Now, as I self confessed Beyonce lover/fan/stalker/worshipper I would be of the opinion that nobody can touch this song. This song screams “dancing on the beach in a long kaftan, with my newly bobbed sea salt sprayed hair, kohl eyes, grinding in the surf, brandishing a trophy and hanging with my husband” and for that, I will forever bow down to Beyonce. But Ed. Oh Ed. There’s no dancing, there’s no grinding, there’s no kohl’d eyes or sea salt hair but what there is this: Ed Sheeran, his pitch perfect vocals, a guitar, some VO5 wax in his ginger hair, a guitar, that straining neck vein when he hits the high notes and well, uhm, a guitar. There’s also the bits that get slightly raunchy and there’s almost a hint of that tell tale ginger blush radiating from a teenage boy-esque smirk on Ed’s face.

If you didn’t spend your Friday evening watching this and having THAT Beyonce video wiped from your memory then quite frankly, I don’t even know who you are.

(You’re welcome, by the way.)