Is it really that time of year already? Tonight I’ll take my seat with about 200 million viewers worldwide and watch the Eurovision Song Contest, taking place in Lisbon, Portugal. The £18 million show will see 26 countries go head-to-head with a diverse set of songs, and the vote will split between the public phone vote and their regional juries of pop-music experts. It’s three and a half hours of joyful silliness, amazing sets, outlandish costumes and dark mutterings about politics and the future of Europe. It’s a like a lavish wedding with all your strange and estranged relatives turning up in their most fabulous clothes, ready to get drunk, have a dance and air all those techy grievances. This powder keg is going to explode into a massive argument. There’s nothing you can do about it, so just enjoy the party.
Two top stories dominiated the tv news this week and they were impossible to escape; a possible murderer on awful BBC tea time quiz show Eggheads and Channel 4 killing off The Great British Bake Off before it’s even started – death by a thousand fuck ups, which should be very familiar to the BBC as its how they managed post-Clarkson Top Gear.
So, in amongst this human misery, let’s hunt around and find some good news. We deserve it.
The sad truth is I’ve been looking forward to Eurovision for months. It’s the one night a year where I really embrace silly pop music. Instead of suffering through a whole series of The X-Factor or Britain’s Got Talent I shovel all the cheesy Europop into my face in one massive glitter cannon blast. And then go back to my usual cynical self the very next day.
My friends have much better taste than me, so I have no sexy Euro parties to attend. But Twitter has revolutionized how we watch live events. My feed goes crazy, with humour, love and snark from around the globe. It’s like a cacophony of opinions from about a million people, and it makes the evening brilliant.
Here are a few choice moments from last night:
Come with SusieSue and let her take you back in time…
It’s 1974. There are Wombles. On Brighton Pier. And ABBA.
I am, let’s just say, primary school age. Waterloo happened and I loved ABBA from that day (except for the 1979-1982 years when ‘alternative’ music took me over, but that’s another story).
Back in the day Eurovision was A Really Big Deal.