Sigh. Eurovision’s over for another year. I wish it was quarterly, I enjoy it so much. Not (usually) for the music, I hasten to add. Or for the theatrical experience, come to that. It’s just bizarre and stupid and pointless but fun all the same, and we all need some of that in our lives.
Before I go on, I know Azerbaijan shouldn’t have been allowed to stage it without cleaning up their human rights record first. But at least everyone knows about said record now. Two weeks ago, they couldn’t even have told you where Azerbaijan was, let alone what a terrible sort of state it is. The spectacle of the interval act being given to the President’s son-in-law, who really wasn’t any good, has probably done more to make Azerbaijan a global laughing stock than anything Amnesty could have come up with. No criticism of Amnesty intended.
Meanwhile, despite all the saloon bar whinging this side of the channel, the right song won, as it does most years. Sure, the bloc voting appears to skew the result as it goes along, but from the word go there was only one winner in the pack – and that was the song that appealed to the greatest number of people in all corners of ‘Europe’.
Which is how pop music works, come to think of it.
As for the UK, we don’t have a lot of friendly neighbours these days, so we’re not guaranteed too many douze points. But Blue did all right last year, with a song that was slightly above the average. This year, Engelbert Humperdinck lost for three reasons:
- He was drawn first. That’s life.
– The song was ponderous cheesy crap.
– His singing was pitchy. Sorry, Hump.
Of course, the last two may have been deliberate. Ireland are clearly doing their best to avoid winning it, by chucking in Jedward two years running. Maybe the powers that be in the UK are up to something subtly similar…