Well, another Eurovision Song Contest has come and gone, almost passing me by this year as I somehow didn’t manage to find out about it at all until a short while after it started. However, I soon got involved and spent an entertaining few hours on Twitter and Facebook bitching about the ridiculousness of it all and lusting after the pretty boys. with friends Oliver and Rich on Twitter and Jem, Lee and Mike on Facebook. (As a shameless bit of self-promotion, click here to see all of my Eurovision tweets, which are frankly hilarious).
Happily, I missed most of Englebert Humperdinck’s performance, stepping into the fray as I did toward the end, just as he woefully overestimated his own vocal ability. It sounded like his balls had dropped. Off. After that things proceeded on a relatively even keel until the Russian Grannies appeared, leaving everyone pretty much speechless. I had just started to regain my voice when on came a camp moonwalking bagpiper from Romania came and pretty much took it away again. Recovery from that spectacle was severely hampered by the appearance of the talent vacuum that is Jedward, ridiculous costumes, utter lack of ability and all. Shudder, seriously.
Ballsiest move of the night came from Greece, who fielded a half-decent song despite the fact that a win on the night and the consequent financial strain of hosting of the Eurovision next year would have literally ended the country entirely. Sadly, there was no-one on the night who came up to the exceptionally high visual standard set last year by Eric Saade (see image above) who I believe should henceforth be given an honourable mention at every Eurovision in perpetuity, based on his exceptional beauty.
In other news, the weather has been exceptional the last few days and it is entirely possible that if it holds tomorrow I may actually go walking in it for a spell. No promises though, I’ve never been particularly outdoorsy. After a few weeks of naughtiness diet-wise I have put a pound or two back on so my next piece of business is to get back on the wagon and stay on it to get as slim and trim as possible for my impending trip to Brighton hopefully in early August. This should have occurred in two weeks’ time but I stupidly decided to move house on the same weekend. And now to bed, as the considerable quantity of Bacardi I have consumed today is insisting I sleep. If you have been, thank you, and good night.