We had the big vote last night.
Would we watch that car-crash of a programme called Eurovision or would we watch something else.
The decision was unanimous: twelve points each to something else.
The problem was that there was fuck all else on the other channels. Saturday is usually pretty dire but last night they excelled themselves giving us endless channels full of Judge Judy, Friends and tacky programmes with clickbait titles such as “Sex sent me to the ER”. I quietly polished off the Irish Times Sudoku and the crosswords while Herself flicked round and around the channels – all thousand of them though it seemed like a lot more.
In the end she uttered a loud Fuckit and chose BBC.
So we were stuck with the Eurovision after all.
Back when God was a child I remember going to a friend’s house to watch my very first one in black and white. The friend was a Eurovision enthusiast and we all had to stay very quiet for the entire programme as he was recording it on a cassette player with the microphone propped up in front of the telly. Those were the days.
Later in years I remember a big deal being made of a “simultaneous broadcast” where the stereo sound was transmitted to synchronise with the television. Another giant leap for mankind and technology.
Of course in those days all the performers had the same orchestra [anyone remember Noel Kelehan?] and no gimmicks such as backing singers or instrumentalists were allowed. It was the song and only the song.
Jayzus but it is now a thousand times worse than anything I have ever seen before. Fucking fireworks and flashing lights, people poncing all over the stage and in the case of Ireland, two blokes holding hands on a bridge that had fuck all to do with the act. Most of the songs couldn’t even be classified as songs, just noise
I blinked at one stage [or maybe just yawned] but apparently someone ran onto the stage and grabbed a microphone. If they hadn’t made a fuss of it, I would have just assumed it was part of the act.
The presenters were up there at the top of the cringe scale. Need I say more?
And as for the voting – I couldn’t make head nor tale of it. All I know is that it went on for hours, though it seemed more like days.
Last night’s production wasn’t car-crash television.
It was more akin to two supertankers colliding head on and going up in a gigantic ball of flame.