May Countdown to Copenhagen: memories of Helsinki 2007

Helsinki 2007

Here’s Wikipedia’s take on Serbia’s 2007 winner: "Moltiva was the first time a ballad has won since televoting became the standard.  The song is notable for its stage presentation because it lacked dance routines, revealing or showy costumes, pyrotechnics and other gimmicks. The Eurovision Song Contest is often accused of concentrating on these things instead of the music itself."

Marija throws her glasses off as the modulation kicks in

Or, to put it another way, YAWN YAWN YAWN YAWN YAWN.  Because the main problem with Serbia’s Moltiva wasn’t the Balkan balladness or the lack of bizarre showmanship – it was that it was a bit of a boring dirge.  Music wasn’t the winner here!  (Perish the thought.)  Don’t get me wrong, there’s still some joy to be had at Marija Šerifović’s super caj, Bieber-haired, lesbian-at-a-wedding, bespectacled get up (Heels? My trainers will be fine, thank you Euro judges).  And I did enjoy her terrifying army of imperial sash and suited fembots - with their apparent penchant for curling tongs and stroking (Wikipedia might not think there’s a gimmick at play here, but this performance is how I imagine the show Touch The Truck, only in musical form).  

From what Wikipedia’s implying, in Serbia, Moltiva has a similar status to Candle In The Wind over here – it gets wheeled out at ‘important’ emotionally charged moments.  More fabulously though, Wikipedia has let me know that “the UK oompah band Oompah Brass recorded an instrumental version of "Molitva" on their album Oompocalypse Now, which they premiered at the 2007 Belgrade Beer Festival.”  I can’t find it (*sobs*), but here’s an excellent rendition of Nine To Five.

Would you like something to suck on for landing, sir?

Anyway, if Europe was a bit gimmicked-out, the UK chose the wrong year to throw up a reformed bubblegum pop group dressed as air hostesses, oozing out fake tan, non-stop camp and innuendo.  Personally, I loved Scooch’s Flying The Flag - it made me chuckle heartily.  Although I accept that such dependence on auto-tune might not have translated too well to a large stage.  Or a TV audience of 100 million Europeans, with limited understanding of English language puns.  

It came 22^nd with a measly 19 points, although Malta gave it twelve points.   The really interesting story though, is that Morrissey could have represented the UK in Helsinki – JUST IMAGINE.  The rumours on that one veer from him refusing to take part in the televoting selection show to him simply not having been approached in time to write something.  (Amazingly the rumours don’t include him saying the whole story is total rubbish.)  I love Mozz and mourn the sad loss of what would have been an amazing opportunity for us all.

We can only speculate as to whether Morrissey would have rivalled winner Marija (durrr, YES).  Instead, Serbia's main threat was a high NRG earworm from Eurovij experts Ukraine.  This one, well, again, it speaks for itself.  It’s elderly bacofoil drag queen time, with a song quite blatantly telling Russia to piss off, all to the sound of heart-attack inducing BPM.  Singer Verka Serduchka doesn’t quite have the breath to get through the dancing, but she does make it to the key change.  It went down a treat in the hall and Europe love it too – just 33 points away from the win.  Russia came third and promptly annexed Crimea.   (Well, I say 'promptly'...)

GOOD TIMES!

May Countdown to Copenhagen: memories of Athens 2006

HARD (pause) ROCK (pause) HALLELUJAH.

HARD (pause) ROCK (pause) HALLELUJAH.

Sure the monstery masks were gimmick gold, but we all know you don't win Eurovision on costumes alone – this was some catchy RAWK.  

Oh Lordi!

Yes, the day of Rockening hit Athens in 2006 and Europe fell hard for the Arockalypse – cue glory for Lordi and the first heavy metal winner.  But underneath the amped up guitar action, Hardrock Hallelujah ticked many tried and tested Eurovij boxes: fire on stage (coming from their guitars, no less), hints of patriotism (a jauntily perched Finnish top hat atop the prosthetics), Scandi-lously high platform boots (that made Agnetha's look sensible), a slightly obscured backing singer who was probably doing most of the voice work (she still got her monster on though) and a major costume change during the middle eight, as Mr Lordi's wings extended before us all. And who needs key changes when you have AN AXE FOR A MIC STAND!

I'd say it put the UK entry to shame, but, to be blunt, the UK entry - Teenage Life by Daz Simpson - put itself to shame.  A middle aged painter and decorator 'rapping' amongst school 'girls' played by women some way off school age, caked in levels of foundation that TOWIE girls would baulk at. The song's philosophy was that teachers were sooooo old they didn't know how to have any fun (those with teacher friends will raise an eyebrow at that one) and that there was no point in school, because it taught you nothing, so you should just be nice to children and that would end crime.  Daz put himself on a pedestal as the proof of such a life's success – having failed to obtain A Grades, he was now “driving fast cars” and was “five stars”.  I'm not au fait with the charts these days, but I have a sense that critical acclaim and record contract domination wasn't entirely forthcoming. 

No, if you're going to do BAD, you follow Icelandic Silvia Night's lead and commit to a level so WTFesque that one can only conclude it is nothing short of MAGNIFICENCE. 

There's too much to describe really - the best plan is to just watch, but I will make a special mention of Silvia's phone call to God though: "What's up dog? It's me, Silvia, Your favourite person in the world."  And when she unexpectedly takes a "golden shower".  And when she slides down a giant shoe.  And when she is stripped of her clothes whilst faux-orgasming. And when her backing dancers do the hand-to-ankle-hand-to-ear move in Bermuda shorts and fringing. And when she makes said dancers crawl on the floor in gimp wrestling masks.  And when... SERIOUSLY, ALL OF THIS STUFF ACTUALLY HAPPENS! 

Frankly though, the most WTF thing of the lot is that she failed to reach the finals and was roundly booed off stage.

Truth is, Silvia Night is a fictional, satirical creation played by an Icelandic actress, designed to showcase all that is awful about the awful. She kept in character throughout EV week, swearing and insulting her way through the rehearsals and interviews - publicly calling Swedish Eurovij stalwart Carola "an ugly old bitch" and calling the production team "fucking retards" during rehearsals.  You'd think that might have ruffled a few feathers in and of itself, but, perhaps even more incredibly, the journos thought she said "fucking Greeks" and went on a tabloid takedown frenzy - hence the boos from the home crowd. (Cause it's not cool to take a pop at the mentally unwell, but it's UNACCEPTABLE to criticise the Greek worth ethic - I mean, ask Angela Merkel.)

One last special mention to Cyprus - well maybe, anyway. I do not remember the song AT ALL, but I do remember my friend Anj serenading me on a very packed tube train with a Cypriot song - it *might* be this one. His performance included pelvic thrusting around the tube poles, getting down on one knee, pretending to face the wind machine, and - of course - a key change. 

GOOD TIMES!

May Countdown to Copenhagen: memories of Kiev 2005

2005 and the Eurogays flocked to Kiev, to worship at the leather-clad altar of Ruslana's whip collection, following her glorious 2004 triumph. What's Ruslana up to these days? Well, apparently she's the Kylie of the Ukrainian Voice and has released a song called This Is Euphoria - which seems a *bit* of a finger up to Loreen, but Wikipedia, with a flagrant disregard for conventional spelling, tells me that “the music video differs from all the previous clips of Ruslana as she attempts to raise awareness about the social problems of Ukraine, especially the lawlessness. Ruslana is thrown into jail on political reasons but she doesn't give up and fights until she brakes out [yes 'brakes'] thanks to her state of euphoria”.  So maybe it's not quite the same vibe as Loreen's silk pyjamas, Winkleman fringe and crab scuttle dance move to Eurotrance brilliantness.  

ANYWAY, Europe clearly hadn't quite had enough of sexy-strong ladies leading the dance-pop charge with attitude, messy hair tossing and tiny skirts, so we crowned Greece's Helena (Elena?) Paparizou as our Number One, leaving Eurovision stalwart and Maltese funky chunky Chiara to be the number two.  But My Number One  was a deserved winner - it's a TOTAL corker.  Much like Ukraine's 2004 win heralded optimistic claims of EU membership, Greece's 2005 victory promised the revival of the Greek economy and tourist industry.  

Hmmmm.

Helena wasn't the only pop diva clad in silk hankies gyrating to ethno-pop, as we decided to put future husband borrower Javine out front for the UK, where she duly requested that Europe “Touch My Fire”.  Sadly, Europe was all like, nah, s'alright thanks.  (Personally, I thought it was a catchy little affair, which should have done better than 22nd - OUCH).  Perhaps Javine should have stuck to single men, I mean, a less substantial dress for her performance, like she did in the UK selection show – nip slip ahoy.  If it's good enough for Janet Jackson... (But let's not linger too much on the slut shaming, and remember that MC Harvey was the real shitshovel in all this.)

Another 'highlight' to note: the now-established tradition of Moldova Crazy Watch.  In 2005, they went for: a mulleted lead singer in a Native Indian kilt, an Adidas-clad drug dealer on the panpies, Mike Flowers on the drums and, of course, a drum-banging granny - years before the Russians multiplied that gimmick by six.  Good old Moldova - so much visual crazy that no-one noticed the lyrics suggesting she's a suicide bomber.

GOOD TIMES.

Malmö 2013 - Semi final #2

No Loreen tonight, so BOO! to that.  Instead we start with a not unenjoyable orchestral dance-off, won for me by the six foot tall supermodel man (hello cheekbones), who accessorises his dance moves with a slick ponytail and a fierce ability to vogue vogue vogue vogue.  Dancing done, Petra hath returned, showing off again that she’s been entrusted to run this ship alone (more likely, no-one could stomach being her co-host).  She’s wearing several dresses in one – Dynasty shoulder pads, halterneck bathing suit, gold encrusted flamenco mullet skirt, evening gloves and Clarks high heels.  It’s a look.  But not a good one.

Lativa

“Here we gooooo” yell this cheesesome twosome, all teeth, military glitter suits and 50% balding Mohican.  They then launch into Euro-rapping, causing their jackets to gape open and reveal bare chests void of hair or muscle definition.  At least they’re giving it their all – inspired no doubt by the on-stage presence of key-tar (POINTS!) and, its unlikely modern day cousin, the iPad-tar (MORE POINTS!). Things close with the non-mohawk member leaping off the stage to crowdsurf; barely staying aloft, as a thousand Eurogays shun catching him in favour of ENSUING THEY ARE SEEN BY THE CAMERAS.  I think prefer the Health and Safety conscious rehearsal version (2.35).

San Marino

San Marino were truly robbed last year, when Europe denied their catchily-titled and 100% crazeballs ‘Social Network Song’ a place in the final.  This year, they’ve gone both epid ballad AND high NRG Eurodance, in the hope a 'buy one get one free' nod to classic Eurovij will ensure they’re treated with more respect by the big boys.  Once again, the San Marino fancy dress shop is doing all it can to lend support: loaning them the finest Red Riding Hood Vampire Robes and Mystic San Marina’s psychic glowball.

FYR Macedonia

Sometimes channelling national cultural pride (AKA ‘going eff-nik’) can work a treat.  Sometimes it’s just the Macedonian Camila Batmanghelidjh wailing a lot.  At least Skopje’s scarlet fabric factory will have had a profitable year - it will have taken quite a lot of thread to create that particular lady in red look.

Azerbaijan

Ah Azerbaijan – why sort out your human rights record when the steely-eyed ambition of going ALL OUT to win Eurovision is so much more fun?  Mind you, this year they seem to be combining the two – hence imprisoning their dancer in a glass box, spider-under-beaker-style. (That’ll be the last time he’ll try and vote for Armenia.)  It is frighteningly impressive though – box man stands on his head with no hands, has totally perfected quality air microphone work and even brings out everyone’s favourite eighties move: ‘sliding down the wall to sitting position in grief’, as the key change rings out.   Grudging respect.

Finland

What starts out as a terrifying desperate hen rampage (wannabe Bridezilla in ankle snapping pink platforms screeching a ‘MARRY ME OR I KILL YOU’ proposal to her boyf over a jaunty pop princess beat) ends in POLITICAL TRIUMPH, as she closes out by lady-snogging her chief bridesmaid.  Boom!

Malta

“His name is Jeremyyyy, working in IT,

Never questions why, he has always beeeeeeen,

An extra careful guy, sensitive and shyyyyy,

Risk assessment is his investment in a life of no surprise,

Till she walked into his liiiiiiiiiiiife…”

Dear God, does anyone care what happens next?  DIDN’T THINK SO.

Bulgaria

Mulleted synchro-drumming!

Baseball cap wearing bagpiper!

GLOW IN THE DARK DRUMSTICKS!

Giant pancake headdress! (??!!!??)

Europe’s going to deny me this one in the final, aren’t they?  You f*&^ers!

Iceland

A yawsome ballad!

Which drones on a lot!

Sung by a hunky munt Viking!

With perfect Jennifer Aniston hair!

Europe’s going to stick this one in the final, aren’t they?  You f*&^ers.

Greece
Well, what I wasn’t expecting was six Greek men dressed as Karren Brady, led by Super Mario, blowing bugles and shouting “Alcohol is free! Alcohol is free!!” whilst their instruments light up.  It’s fab, obviously – it’s GREEK EUROVISION!  Though I can’t helping noting that in many other European countries, alcohol is not free, but is subject to a series of complex taxes and duties imposed by national parliament and collected by the relevant tax revenue office, which pay for things like hospitals, schools and nuclear weapons.  (Just saying, like.)

Israel

The face of Jewish Nana Miskouri on the body of a pre-diet Kirstie Alley, clad in a jewel-encrusted wetsuit come ballgown with fishtail floor flaps, slit to the ample navel, wobbly cleavage ahoy...  And you expect me to notice the song?

Armenia

Has the Eurovision stage ever been graced by double denim before?  It’s pretty vanilla for something written by Black Sabbath (RRRAWK!), but at least it shows respect for the key change, and the lead singer has a nice D'Artagnan goatie.  Shame that the main repeated lyric is “We can stop it” yet there’s no attempt to make good on that promise.

Hungary

Hark! Tis the soundtrack to every clinically sentimental ad about the latest piece of overpriced tech fresh out of Palo Alto, populated by cool (but not so cool as to be intimidating) and pretty (but not so pretty as to be intimidating) young geeky dudes in beanie hats and their quirky lady friends in floral skirts and hobnail boots.  I'll be honest, I wasn't expecting NHS specs to be a Eurovision theme, but there you go.  Not quite as exciting as pirates though, is it?

Norway

Terribly cool electro pop, all moody strings and futuristic synth beats, performed by a very slinky young blonde thing in a rib-crushingly tight white PVC dress, highlighting what I believe is known as ‘Pippa Arse’.  The recorded version of the song is rather good but I was underwhelmed by the performance – mind you, it’s hard to dance (and breathe) when you’re encased the tightest plastic known to Scandiweigia.  How she got on stage is quite beyond me.  Possibly the Ukrainian giant stepped in.  He seems nice enough.

Albania

To be honest, this won me over before it even began, when Ana Matronic revealed that one of them was in a group called ‘The Sexy Very Much Band’. That is winner!  But also, it transpires, highly misleading, as the performance itself revealed aging rockers with awful haircuts (backwards wig versus limp centre parting) and more NHS specs – but why let less than conventionally attractive looks get in the way of testosterone-fuelled kettle drumming and a guitar ejaculating fire?

Georgia

The love duet is clearly out of fashion this year – but that hasn’t stopped Georgia from going for it, along with every other Eurovij power ballad staple: black suit for him, white evening dress and push-up bra for her; starting back to back before turning and gazing lovingly into each other eyes; smouldering looks and balletic arms reaching for the audience; references to dreams, love, waterfalls and sailing; mass ‘harmonised’ wailing; a laboured key change and climatic smoke explosions.

Switzerland

Mein Gott, I’m not sure I can take the sheer spectacle, glitz and excitement of six musicians standing in a line wearing matching white shirts and jeans – though their double-bassist is 95 years old, so I guess there is some sense of suspense.  Still awful though.  Not even Swiss Meryl Streep on the marching drum can save this – though I would like to see her leading this year’s many Euro-drummers in a big old mass banging.  OF THEIR DRUMS.  Sheesh!  With any luck, that will be part of the interval entertainment...

Romania

Best til last, I think.  It's only Drag Vampire Opera time!  I love this guy – willing to sacrifice his testicles to reach the notes only dogs can hear, in a sequined jacket Cruella de Vil and Hilary Devey would fight to the nail to get their hands on.  Sure, we’ve seen massive underskirt crane action already this Eurovision, elevating the wearer high into the arena, but I’m sorry Moldova – the giant skirt billow and hoist is just no good if it’s not matched with diva-esque man-soprano using his frock to wrangle red men in pants, dancing with their Bucharests on show, all over a disco beat.  Extraordinary.

And that's that!  Time, gentlemen, please – voting is go!  But who’s off to the final and who’s off home in a giant Euro-strop?

LET'S DO DISS!

So... our finalists are: Hungary (Google ad!); Azerbaijan (glass prison!); Georgia (smoke duet!); Romania (camp-ire opera!); Norway (Pippa arse!); Iceland (Jennifer Aniston-son!); Armenia (double denim!); Finland (bridal lady snogs!); Malta (look at my fucking orange trousers!); Greece (FREE BOOZE!)

Frankly, Bulgaria woz robbed!  But some crackers through for the Final.  I fear for the Big Five - does Europe really love Bonnie that much?  Mind you, Cascada!  I'd love to see Romania nab it, but Denmark have got this in the bag, no?  Surely. 

Surely?

Malmö 2013 - Semi final #1

Good evening Malmö!  Look, there's the bridge from 'The Bridge'!  Time to kick off with a bunch of Euphoria covers in musical styles from all of Europe (well a few Eastie strings, an oompah band and some Israeli techno), before a scarlet-clad Loreen appears before us (ahh-ahh-ahhhhh), walking through a crowd of serious Swedish children, throwing out a few wails and generally being awesome. She's still the coolest woman to have ever graced the Eurovision stage and she still hasn't brushed her Winkleman hair - I'm fairly sure the two facts are intimately connected.

Compère duties have been passed to a Scandi Bacofoil mermaid quoting Orson Wells and thanking Baku for not openly imprisoning any contestants last year. She's also insisting on pronouncing it 'Malmurgh'.  Whö knew?  Sorry, whoeurgh knerugh?

Last year, I was one of the few who enjoyed Sara Cox's inebriated approach to Eurovij presenting, but BBC3 have given Ana Matronic the mic for 2013, which should be brilliant – there's a woman who knows how to wrangle gays and throw a kiki.   So everyone ready? Primed for key changes, wind-machines and the power of music? (HAHAHAHA!)  Well, then it's time to BEGIN!

Austria

Metallic jeans and perms are so 'now', don't you think? ("NO" screams THE WORLD.) Oh Austria, are you sure an offensively inoffensive forgettable rock ballad is your best bet? I know the Trackshittaz didn't really work out last year but 'Fucky Mit Deim Popo' has nonetheless carved out a firm place on every sarcastic, cut'n'paste Eurovision doc from here til eternity.  What did this have?  A key change and a xylophone solo.  Purlease.  Next!

Estonia

SHE'S PREGGERS! Points for that, RIGHT OFF! Although I am highly disappointed they didn't make a feature of the bump and instead put an extremely svelte mum-to-be in a billowing white triangle tent dress, whilst pumping out floor fog, lest we get upset by rounded belly and mild swollen ankle. (What a missed opportunity for a Neneh Cherry tribute.) Anyway, extra points for singing in her native language, even if was a wailing old dud of a song.

Slovenia

Ahh, sanitised industrial house from a soccer mom attempting edgy-sexy.  She may be poured into leather leggings and a scaly top, but she's wearing PEPLUM.  That's what Britain is currently wearing to the OFFICE.  Soccer mom's backing dancers are doing their best, but I'm strangely unconvinced by a choreographic style that incorporates 'masked totem pole wavy arms' and 'lying on the floor not quite able to do the worm'. It should be my bag, but they just can't smother the wholesome.   More filth please Europe.

Croatia

Turns out David Miliband didn't go to New York after resigning from parliament, but went to Croatia to join a klapa supergroup (as in Dalmatian choral singing - but you knew that, right?).  No Cruella or puppies (boo), as the klapa uniform is more musketeer meets matador - which sounds like it should score rather high on the sexy fancy dress scale, but... well, it doesn't really.  Think Welsh male voice choir... only there are six of them.  And they're Croatian.

Denmark

Bookies and fans' favourite – and if her Scandi un-brushed-hair-ness and bare feet are anything to go by, she's on to a copycat winner... Ok, I can sense a subtle ethno-pop background (probably not native to Denmark) and some penny whistle action (again...).   Oh hello military drummers - I see things *are* hotting up at uniformdating.com.  Songwise, the lyrics make no logical sense – the answer to the question “how many times can we get it right?” is apparently “only teardrops” (hmmkay), but it's catchy. I've decided I like it! But I'll be honest – I was hoping for a Sarah Lund jumper.

Russia

It doesn't really matter what guff Russia put out – they'll make the final.  So why shouldn't they go for a lacy-sleeved peachy bridesmaid doing a seventies throwback number about peace - to apparently be achieved by burying guns in your back garden and holding hands, or something.  There is one nod to modernity - throwing two glowballs into the audience.  Anyway, see you top of the leader-board. *sigh*

Ukraine

Come on Ukraine – you know the stakes are high, what with your back catalogue... and MMMMM YES, AN ACTUAL GIANT IN TARTAN CARRYING THE NEW RUSLANA AND PLACING HER ON A ROCK BEFORE SHE LIFTS THE MICROPHONE AND... hang on... what fresh hell is this? A slow number?!! Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooetc. Fortunately, it picks up a little and turns into quite a strange, but oddly catchy syncopated number, which – much like that giant (heh) – grew on me. It's no Wild Dances, but I can work with this.

Netherlands

Hang on, I know this chick! She did a cracking rock song called Nobody's Wife in the nineties, which was well angry and well fem-angsty and well worth a re-listen...  No idea if Anouk has since married, but she's turned up with a beautifully-sung, whimsical, emotional, waltzy... well... dirge. About birds.

Montenegro

Another year where Montenegro decide to eschew melody in favour of monotone, arrhythmic mumble-talking, but this time THEY'RE SPACEMEN! And in case we weren't convinced by the astronaut theme (hint: WE ARE), they've got a sexy lady alien, wearing wings, heels borrowed from the Ukrainian giant and some bits of perspex and plastic glued to her head, pretending to be super futuristic Google glasses.

Lithuania

I can't tell if this is an ageing back row boyband-er or an acceptable-looking accountant they whacked a vest and leather jacket on to. Either way, this is getting heavy rotation at drive-time on Middle of the Road FM – it's the essence of boring Dad rock. BUT! It does have a wonderful lost in translation twist in the lyrics, which go: “...because of the shoes...” (pause for effect) “...I'm wearing today...” (pause again) “...one is called 'love'...” (pausey-pause), “...the other is 'pain'.” *applause*

Belarus

Zumba time! Strictly Come Belarus! But it's like Strictly Week 1, when the celebrity contestants have suddenly realised they're going to have to perform a completely under-rehearsed salsa routine to millions of people in nothing but a skimpy fringed bathing suit and fake tan, and what seemed like a fantastic promotional career move is probably going to turn out to be their Most Humiliating Professional Moment Ever.  Sure, Belarus lady isn't quite that amateur, but she is total mahogany – in both skin tone and movement.  Either way, she's fully committed to the rhythm of her cha cha.

Moldova

I was all like, meh, yeah, sure she has a big ginger quiff and red glow-in-the-dark ball dress, but I'm not sure it's really worth the effort, what with all that caterwauling, unless of course she's got something hiding under her massive skirt, and lo! A crane! Which lifts her up several metres, whilst stock footage gets projected on to her skyscraper outfit. It's good! Though not so good that I'm willing to suffer the song again.

Ireland

Whatever Ireland - this isn't Jedward. I don't care how many topless bodhrán players you throw at me. (Three. Oiled.)

Cyprus

Woah! Beee-YEW-ti-ful laydee – in a naked lace dress. Well, it is a tried and tested method, and at least this gown is 'tastefully' floor-length, but shamelessly going for the hetero male vote is highly risky, as Dads won't get dragged in to watch 'against their will' (ha!) until the final...

Belgium

Oh dear - a gormless man-child who doesn't have quite have enough bouffe for the full Belieber comb-over, and a song that's a forgettable non-entity (ah Belgium). They've tried to spice things up by hiring two REALLY AGGRESSIVE backing dancers, contractually obliged to spend part of the song feeling Justin Belgium up through the medium of dance - you won't be surprised to hear that it wasn't entirely successful.

Serbia

What the CRAP is this?  (Other than super sinister.)  So we have three stroppy teenage girls dressed as circus ringmaster rag dolls, one in her pants, singing about... well it's hard to tell,  possibly Serbian Rachel Berry and Serbian Santana from Glee are trying to cheer up (or sex up?) grumpy Serbian Katniss Everdene, but competitively.  ???  IT'S SO WEIRD.  There's a bit of face stroking and pelvic grinding, before the three of them burst into the chorus and some lipstick lesbian subtext.  I tell you now, Tatu would be pretty unimpressed.  Mainly at the singing.

And, with that, we are done!  ALREADY?  Yes.  Not a bad old semi.  But can Europe be trusted to select the ten best for the final?  (I doubt it.) 

Quick interlude whilst we try and work out if Bonnie's been drinking and what her hair is made of (it's anyone's guess - unless that guess is 'actual hair'), before Ana Matronic basically offers to take her place on stage (PLEASE!), then it's time.

HERE WE GO!

So.... our finalists are: Moldova (crane dress!); Lithuania (shoes with names!); Ireland (not Jedward); Estonia (preggers!); Belarus (fringy cha cha!); Denmark (bookies fav!); Russia (peach bridesmaid!); Belgium (Bieber!); Ukraine (giant!) and Netherlands (bird dirge!).

Oi oi!

'Euphoria' by Loreen (Sweden 2012)

Countdown to Eurovision 2013: my all-time favourites


Best. Eurovision song. Ever.  

And that is all I have to say.

Jan Delay - Interval act (Düsseldorf 2011)

Countdown to Eurovision 2013: my all-time* favourites



Yes, it’s German funk-hop.  Yes, he actually uses the phrase ‘Jan Delay, in da haus’.  And yes, we were only up and dancing because I felt sorry for the German fans next to me trying to enjoy the performance even though the stadium was half-empty, while seasoned Eurogays hurriedly used the non-contest part of the show to rush the bar, the loos, each other.  BUT!  But, but, but, a) it’s actually very catchy, b) he’s a good performer despite his ‘stupid hat, stupid suit, stupid rubbery dance moves' schtick.

And, oh yeah, c) *this is when we made the telly.  Dancing.  In front of 170 million viewers. 

 

So you know...

 

Clue: we are not the portly gentleman in the Union Jack suit and lacy sleeves.