Another year, another Eurovision.
The magical weekend is over and once more all we are left with is a blur of outlandish costumes and over-styled hair, surrounded by low-lying clouds of mist, pushed along by an industrial wind, lit by 100’s of pyrotechnics, set to a soundtrack of badly played trumpet.
My highlights for this year included:
Charlie Pickering’s Azerbaijani twin.
Last years winner forgetting the words to Waterloo (a song I long to have removed from my memory) during the semi final intermission.
The Iceland entrant who looked like he would eat your young.
Norway’s answer to Peter Andre (an answer to a question nobody asked)
and the Albanian entrant who was clearly being controlled by the alien lifeforce that lay upon her chest.
The winner this year was, of course, Sweden with Euphoria:
Now don’t get me wrong, it’s a great song (plus she does a bit of a hammertime shuffle part way through the performance) BUT, it is legitimately good – not Eurovision good. I could picture the youth of today singing and dancing along to the track while waving their glow sticks in an enthusiastic fashion at the discotheque …and not in an ironic way. Eurovision is about the tacky, the cheesy, the downright ridiculous! I just hope Sweden’s win hasn’t poisoned the very essence of Eurovision.
At least the spirit hasn’t completely died out just yet…
A 40+ year old guy (I’m speculating) who looked and moved like he had just come off a massive night of substantial alcoholic beverage consumption (also speculation) after a hard day selling used cars (…maybe) named Rambo…who busted rhymes.
Or if you’d prefer an insightful fellow’s simple yet hauntingly accurate description: Meatloaf and Gerard Depardieu’s middle-aged love child. (Thanks Ben)
Hot female singer in impossibly short dress, surrounded by terrible choreography and lyrics which include the rhyming of ‘maniac’ with ‘aphrodisiac’ – genius!
A bedazzled blindfold, second-rate Michael Jackson moves and one-handed cartwheel.
I’m sure I’m not the only one who can’t seem to fill the void left by discraced 90’s dance group Black Box…right!?
Poor man’s Sacha Baron Cohen, joined by several dudes in capes…which eventually join to become a ship.
I haven’t seen fancy footwork like this since the opening sequence of Kenny Loggin’s Footloose.