Douze points!

Last night's Eurovision Song Contest was fun. Silly fun, yes, but in this economic climate, we should take all the chances we can get.

Ok, I was disappointed that our own Sinead Mulvey et al. didn't make it to the final. It was a pretty decent pop song and they gave it all they had in the semi-final. And I was also disappointed that the Serbian bloke who looked like Einstein after an unfortunate incident with a split atom in a paint factory didn't make it through either.

But Cirque de Soleil were bloody excellent and the interval act featuring giant suspended swimming pools was just extrordinary. As was the almost 100% accurate Ronan Keating clone who represented Denmark. I always suspected that there was a degree of genetic engineering going on in boy-band circles, and this only serves to confirm my suspicions.

Alexander Rybak's song Fairytale, the overall winner and most popular Eurovision victor ever, did nothing for me I'm afraid. I thought the Swedish mezzo-soprano was superb, as was the Maltese girl, Chiara. Even in spite of my aversion to all things Andrew Lloyd-Webber, I also thought the UK entry was one of the best.

But just to backtrack to Alexander Rybak for a moment...

I mean...

Phwooarrr.....

Jaysus, I'm going to print this picture off and stick it on my desk. It'll be a nice distraction from the forms on a bad day. Yum yum yum yum yum.

Oslo next year I think!!

Pish!

Last night on TV I watched a bloke sniff his armpit as part of a dance routine. Later, I noticed that Elvis had come back to life as a fat Belgian trying to audition for Father Ted and that Freddie Mercury had also been resurrected, this time as a skinny bloke from Eastern Yurp (I can't be bothered looking up which country he was from). Not to mention the almost naked Bulgarian stiltwalkers. Or the Macedonian Bon Jovi.

If you haven't guessed already, I was watching the annual gayfest (gay as they use it in South Park) that is the Eurovision Song Contest semi final.

Is it just me or does it get worse every year? This year, the interval act was the only decent bit because it featured the Red Army Choir in nice uniforms with very, very big hats.

But the worse it gets, the more I watch it! I'm sure I'm in good company.

...right?

Ne Partez Pas Sans Moi ...

... sang Celine Dion some 20 years back. The Eurovision has come a long way since then. (As for Celine Dion, je partirais sans elle, tout de suite! Run away!) I have to say though, when the opening bars of the Te Deum by Charpentier filled my living room at 8 this evening, I still felt that tingle of anticipation.

Even though it's changed drastically, almost beyond recognition (I mean, 43 countries over 3 nights? And no more "un point, deux points" voting as it would drag on for a week), I still love it and tonight was once again an audiovisual feast.

Tonight we had:

• A man with a horse's arse opening the show. That was the worst birth defect I have ever seen. His hind legs weren't even working.
  
• A terrifying Swedish singer. The song wasn't bad, but she scared the shit out of me! I was afraid all the plastic surgery would melt under the stage lights and leave her standing in a pool of silicon for the other acts to slip in or get stuck to.
  
• PIRATES! YARRR! Singing, dancing Latvian pirates. And they got through. Huzzah.
• A health and safety matter arising from a burning Bulgarian turntable.
  
• Flat caps, as worn by Denmark and Macedonia. All they needed was a pint of warm ale and a whippet by their sides and you could call it the Yorkshire-vision song contest. Eyup!
  
• And the interval act. Dancing zombies. Again - Huzzah.
  

Yes, it was another night of silliness and dodgy costumes. But it had pirates and zombies, so that's a big thumbs up to the evening from me.

As for my favourite to win, I think Finland are good, but no doubt one of the Eastern European folk will get the prize.

Don't know if I can sleep tonight. Cheese before bed was a baaad idea.

Piff paff poff!

I was going to write on this last night, but the double bill of Desperate Housewives got in the way (And I missed the last half of the second episode due to falling asleep so have to catch the repeat at the weekend, God dammit!).

Dustin's bid for Eurovison glory was, as you all know by now, quashed last night. And booed at. Philistines. I would go as far as to say that Europe has lost its sense of humour, but having watched the spectacle in its entirety, I'm inclined to think that yes, Europe has a sense of humour. It's just very, very different to ours.

Last night I saw:

• A quartet of knitting Bosnian brides and an ugly git popping out of a linen basket.
• Some Slovenian Sex Slaves.
• Insane Estonians dancing around pictures of cake while looking like "Stalin on speed" (credit goes to a friend for this reference).
• Four Norwegian babe clones.
• A Polish singer who Marty Whelan described as having "the whitest teeth in the contest". Yes, because her skin was fucking orange! Whose teeth wouldn't look whiter against a background of Tango? (Probably the best singer of the lot, though.)
  
• More mental metallers from Finland, who got my vote. We need another Lordi.
• A Russian bloke who looked in pain as he sang kneeling on the ground. Someone give him some morphine for Saturday. I think he got through.
• Lots and lots of near-exposed bottoms and boobies.

You would think that a farting turkey would have a good chance in amongst that silly lot, wouldn't you? Irlande Douze Points is a great, catchy dance number which really made an improvement on the John Waters-penned drivel that passed (probably out of his colon) for an entry last year. For fuck's sake, who puts the word "archipelagic" into a song? Pretentious twat.

Maybe it's time for us to bow out along with Italy and Denmark? We still top the stats in terms of most Eurovisions won. Even with our silliest entry in history, we are not silly enough to beat the knitting needles and the blokes with angel wings (Azerbaijan I think).

I'm still going to watch the rest of the contest though, so there will be more commentary to follow.

In the meantime, here's a link to a clip of my favourite (after My Lovely Horse, and of course, Irlande Douze Points) silly Eurovision entry.

Edit: Don't know where I got the idea that Denmark had bowed out. They're in this year's final...!

My lovely turkey...

Still on the subject of birds... delighted to see that Dustin is representing us in Belgrade this year. Go on ya good thing! It's time Ireland started having fun at the Eurovison, instead of trotting out diddley-eye bands in tweeds and lace. Everyone else is pulling the piss, just because we've won seven times (yes, I like Eurovison statistics) it doesn't mean we have to be all po-faced about it all.

It brought back memories of Father Ted and "My Lovely Horse". What would Dermot Morgan think?