Eurotrash
Hurrah, for one of my favourite nights on telly: the Eurovision song contest. It was not a classic year for Eurovision fans. We did not, for example, have the playing of a song trigger a national revolution, as happened with 1975's Portugese entry. But some of the countries made a good go of it, and drinking games at Eurovision parties across the continent must have resulted in some really wrecked fans.
A special badge of merit this year goes to Spain, who suffered a pitch invasion during their spastic toybox dance number. They had to go a second time and their song was still shit.
Moldova gave us lots of mental dancing and Timmy Mallet on sax. Serbia had some mad Balkan warbling, but couldn't compete with Belarus's Disney princess showdown. The Albanian singer scored points for her Flash Gordon chic and was accompanied by Young Einstein on violin. The Norwegian entry seemed to be marvellously tone deaf.
There were big BIG points for Greece this year, with their infectiously mental dancing, explosions, ethnic instruments and a ringtone solo. OPA! OPA! OPA! We did give thought to voting for them on the basis that running next year's Eurovision would implode their fragile economy into a fiscal singularity.
The Paddies couldn't resist inserting a dreary bit of Celtic twiddle-de-dee into their power ballad. Iceland deployed the volcano for their number. And the Georgians seemed to have a crew of sailors twanging the singer's knicker elastic.
Turkey were one of my favourite acts, a mixture of emo rock and Mrs. Stig on an angle grinder. I actually voted for the French football song, which was a happy moment of catchy, booty-shaking eurotrash.
Thumbs up to the Ukraine for capturing the Vampire vote across Europe (and that of my missus). The Romanians paired a weak-chinned saddo with a PVC-clad fembot with unfeasibly long legs. Legs were clearly in evidence this year. The Azerbaijani singer had pins so long she threatened to topple over at the hips.
I was baffled by the Russians, who were fronted by a yodelling Gallagher brother who looked like he'd been spanked in the face with a frying pan. Other mysteries were the Armenian paean to apricot stones, how the Danes got away with ripping off the Police's Every Move You Make, and the sweet but outstandingly nasal Belgian entry.
The UK was a disaster, entering the bastard love-child of Nick Clegg and David Cameron. It was a coalition song so anonymous that the rest of Europe quite rightly ignored it.
Finally, all credit to Germany for giving us the quirky beanpole Lena and her Lily Allenish warble. The Eurovision CD will be unusually listenable this year.
A special badge of merit this year goes to Spain, who suffered a pitch invasion during their spastic toybox dance number. They had to go a second time and their song was still shit.
Moldova gave us lots of mental dancing and Timmy Mallet on sax. Serbia had some mad Balkan warbling, but couldn't compete with Belarus's Disney princess showdown. The Albanian singer scored points for her Flash Gordon chic and was accompanied by Young Einstein on violin. The Norwegian entry seemed to be marvellously tone deaf.
There were big BIG points for Greece this year, with their infectiously mental dancing, explosions, ethnic instruments and a ringtone solo. OPA! OPA! OPA! We did give thought to voting for them on the basis that running next year's Eurovision would implode their fragile economy into a fiscal singularity.
The Paddies couldn't resist inserting a dreary bit of Celtic twiddle-de-dee into their power ballad. Iceland deployed the volcano for their number. And the Georgians seemed to have a crew of sailors twanging the singer's knicker elastic.
Turkey were one of my favourite acts, a mixture of emo rock and Mrs. Stig on an angle grinder. I actually voted for the French football song, which was a happy moment of catchy, booty-shaking eurotrash.
Thumbs up to the Ukraine for capturing the Vampire vote across Europe (and that of my missus). The Romanians paired a weak-chinned saddo with a PVC-clad fembot with unfeasibly long legs. Legs were clearly in evidence this year. The Azerbaijani singer had pins so long she threatened to topple over at the hips.
I was baffled by the Russians, who were fronted by a yodelling Gallagher brother who looked like he'd been spanked in the face with a frying pan. Other mysteries were the Armenian paean to apricot stones, how the Danes got away with ripping off the Police's Every Move You Make, and the sweet but outstandingly nasal Belgian entry.
The UK was a disaster, entering the bastard love-child of Nick Clegg and David Cameron. It was a coalition song so anonymous that the rest of Europe quite rightly ignored it.
Finally, all credit to Germany for giving us the quirky beanpole Lena and her Lily Allenish warble. The Eurovision CD will be unusually listenable this year.