So another Eurovision song contest has been and gone.
What have we learnt? Shit all!
Germany won with the cheeky kind of shiny cheese skin pop guffary you’d have bet on every time to win. Bjork without the weirdness. Kylie slapped with a sherbet fist. It’s not bowel surgery – write some catchy sing-along positive nonsense and get someone attractive or vaguely peculiar to sing it.
So what do Britain do? Get goons like Pete Waterman, Andrew Lloyd Webber and Mike Batt to write a Rick Astley/Sarah Brightman/Wombles b-side and try and find someone in a Waitrose supermarket to sing it. Anyone. As long as they’ve got a nice tan and post-Cif like sparkle to their teeth when they pipe up (ie. they look nothing like your typical Manchester band!).
This show has an audience of around 120 million people. Ok, it’s a credibility hell-hole, but you’d think we’d put in a bit of effort or at least try something a bit different.
Next year let’s lose in style. Get Jonathan King to do a reggae sequel to Bucks Fizz’s, Making Your Mind Up, called, Teenagers Grind Up. The video can have loads of flash mob dancing teens in spandex, obliviously camel-toeing themselves towards breakdowns.
At least then it’d be funny.
