Berlin*

This weekend, I watched the Eurovision song contest for the first time in my life. Well, it's true I may have channel flicked over it in my youth, but I have never sat down to endure the gala in its gargantuan glittery glory.

I did not watch the first semi-final, but I did watch the second along with my friends Chris and Richard. Chris is a Eurovision Aficionado of the highest calibre. What he doesn't know about Eurovision is not worth knowing - and some of the stuff he does know is also not worth knowing. So I was in the best possible company as I had my EuroCherry stolen from me.

Chris initially thought I was detesting the entire night due to my critical barbs, but eventually he realised that this was all part of my enjoyment.

A few points.

1) If you are a boy band with sequined hotpants, do not at any point admit that you're all straight. The majority of your audience are probably gay and you just lost millions of votes. Silly Lithuanian boys.

2) If the advertisers want us to buy their albums, please spell the artistes names correctly. It's Cliff Richard and Matt Monro, not 'Richards' and 'Monroe'. Asswipes.

3) Although I don't believe it should be judged on spectacle (costumes, dancers, lighting effects) I will give bonus points if you're cute.

I watched the final on my own on and had flurries of texts between my friends Chris and Nola regarding the various performances. My two favourites to win were Romania and Germany and I was pleased to see them both finish in the top three.

The UK entry was absolutely dire. No, that's being too kind. I cannot even begin to describe who utterly dreadful it was. The one consolation was that Josh seemed to have smuggled a badger into Oslo down the front of his pants. Now, that sounds good to me!
Another appalling entry was Ireland. This song was pathetically wet and bland. Our Australian hosts kept referring to her as 'Royalty' - what? Fergie?

Tom Dice from Belgium was a decent entry, but it felt a little out of place. I didn't mind watching him though, cute as a button. (Whatever that means).

Germany won. Hoo-bloody-ra! Somebody said she was Germany's answer to Lily Allen. No, that can't be true. Germany's answer to Lily Allen should be a rifle to the face.
So, it's Berlin to host next year?? You've gotta love those Germans. Sure, World War II was a bit of a hiccough, but give 'em credit where credit's due; their music is fun and their genes are stunning.

See! I got into it. Who'd have thought it?

*(Sure, I know it was in Oslo... but next year, Berlin?)