So we reconvened at the appointed hour to witness the solemn ceremony of selecting the final ten to go through to Saturday’s Eurovision Grand Finale. Mrs Chrisparkle and I were accompanied in this challenging but ultimately rewarding task by the likes of Lord and Lady Prosecco (true to their name), Mr and Mrs Jolly-Japester (same applies) and HRH the Crown Prince of Bedford (one doesn’t comment on the behaviour of royalty). Again we each chose the ten songs/performances that we most enjoyed, rather than the ones we thought would get through.
Serbia – Just as it was about to start I popped a bottle of prosecco and it went all over my trousers and socks. By the time I’d mopped it off the table, the carpet and my leg, the song had all but finished. I know I don’t like it much though – it’s too much of a steal from other songs. HRH noted there were two topless male dancers. Given Tijana’s see-through dress, I’ll just leave that with you. Four of us (Mrs C, HRH and the Prosecco pair) decided to put it through to the final.
Austria – We remember Nathan as a happy chappy from the London party. Interesting staging, giving a whole new meaning to mooning. He delivered it superbly as we expected. But is there something lacking from this whole thing? Apparently not, as we all sent Nathan through apart from a grumpy Lord Prosecco.
FYR Macedonia – Mr Jolly-Japester thought her name was Jana Bigchester – clearly his Freudian slip was showing. Jana romped around like a sex kitten, all tinsel and Madonna-like, wearing the epitome of f*ck me boots that Mrs C would die for. Unfortunately, with all this, a rather beautiful and charming song got totally lost. Nevertheless, six of us appreciated her splendid effort, with only Lord Prosecco being grumpy again.
Malta – Breastlessly? enquired Mr Jolly-Japester, clearly on a roll. Well, not entirely, came the group response. Hurrah for Claudia finally making it to Eurovision, and most of us agreed that it’s a strong song, if a trifle old-fashioned. Five of us gave her the thumbs up, only HRH wasn’t impressed with her cleavage and Mr J-J just got too bored with the song.
Romania – It wouldn’t be Eurovision without something totally ridiculous that just might set the world alight. Time then to meet Ilinca and Alex, two lovely people whom you both want to cuddle. Highly impressed with her performance, Mr J-J noted there was no end to what she was capable of with her throat. The song is total rubbish but they give the audience three minutes of sheer delight. One of only four songs that all seven of us put through to the final.
The Netherlands – I explained to the gathered crowds the story of how this song was written and succeeded in puncturing the mood completely (Google it if you don’t know). The girls are lovely and it’s beautifully staged but for me it’s as dull as ditchwater. Do you remember how they criticised Mozart for having too many notes? For me this has too many harmonies. Nevertheless, four brave souls – HRH, Lord P and the J-Js all gave it the nod of approval.
Hungary – Lord Prosecco drew this in the office sweepstake so we were all very excited for him to hear it. Oh dear. Nice dancer. Nice violinist. Shame about the song. Mr J-J thought it sounded like an ode to constipation. We know a Hungarian who is genuinely embarrassed by this song. As the late Terry Wogan once said (of the Austrian entry in 1977) “different, but not sufficiently different to make a difference.” Only Lord Prosecco (with an eye on his sweepstake) and Mr J-J sent it through to the final.
Denmark – Eurovision by numbers, and quite dull. Anja went to school in Winmalee, New South Wales, where Mrs C’s best schoolfriend works as a teacher. She probably taught Anja. I’m full of riveting facts, me. Halfway through we stopped listening and started talking about Jeremy Corbyn. Only Lady Prosecco selected her to go through to the final.
Ireland – I think this was the time when the level of our conversation truly descended, unlike Brendan’s testicles. Three minutes asking ourselves searching questions like: What is he dying to try? Does it involve the local priest? What on earth is he doing out this late at night? What the hell are Ireland playing at? To be honest, I rather liked his balloon. Only one of us voted for him to go through: HRH, and I doubt it had anything to do with the song.
San Marino – Lady Prosecco had already condemned this to oblivion before Valentina and Jimmie had opened their mouths. Valentina was so hyper, Mrs J-J assumed she’d been taking speed. Did I hear the line: “I can see the future is bright, I’ll take your booze away”? Harsh. Very cruise ship; but some cruise ship entertainment is really good. Some. One of two songs that none of us voted for at all.
Croatia – I just can’t take this seriously in any way. I giggled my way all through it, and not in a good way. The ultimate “Look at me, I’m a star” song. I know I’m in no position to comment, but really, a man of his proportions should not wear a leather jacket. Skin tight. Fully done up. Once you’d finished laughing at his duet with himself, there was the blissful hilarity of the duelling strings, the violinist and cellist battling out to the death to see who could leave the stage with any vestige of dignity left. This was the other song that was a nul points from all of us.
Norway – After the overweening, overblown musical flatulence that preceeded it, JOWST’s little song whispered in on a light breeze with just a slight whiff of Jarlsberg. Mrs J-J said she got Ed Sheeran vibes; I’ll have to take her word for that. Maybe it was just because it followed two totally dreadful entries, but all of us sent it through to the final.
Switzerland – Miruna was wearing what I can only describe as an oversized mango smoothie, perched atop an enormous desk caddy, also in fetching mango – thoughtfully they’d removed the pencils. Later on, they wheeled up a pink piano with a pink pianist to provide colour contrast. It was like watching a block of Neapolitan ice-cream. She’s got a great voice – but we hardly noticed the song. The Proseccos and Mrs C put it through.
Belarus – Not Michael Holliday’s version of The Story of my Life, much to Lord Prosecco’s disappointment. Arciom and Ksienija looked like little rays of sunshine. So happy. So lacey (at least, I think that’s what that material is). It took me ages to realise they were on a boat and not merely accompanied by two giant hamster wheels. Their song, in pure Belarussian, was also very happy. And felt much longer than three minutes. Only Mr J-J voted it through.
Bulgaria – Kristian Kostov (not, as Mr J-J had it, “Tossed-off”) impressed us all with his superb voice and beautiful song. Well, nearly all. “Am I the only one who thinks this is boring?” asked Lady Prosecco. “Yes,” we confirmed. I thought it was sheer class from start to finish. Will it carry off the Grand Prix on Saturday night? Not sure. Could be a chance of so near and yet Sofia. Only the low boredom threshold of Lady Prosecco prevented it from being a clean sweep of yays.
Lithuania – From the sublime to the ridiculous, featuring the winner of Lithuania’s Got Talons. When one of our party (who shall be nameless) described Viktorija’s coiffure as a “prickly bush”, we had to halt the recording for some time in order to recover. It was also noted that if Viktorija shoved her finger nail into his underpants, it would have been the longest thing down there. Rubbish song, so who cares? Bizarrely Mrs J-J, in a fit of kindness, voted it through.
Estonia – Two to go, and my second favourite of 2017. Another example of jacket jealousy for me as Koit marched across the stage with enormous authority which crumbled when he gave the camera his “Ed Milliband” look. They were singing about how they’d lost their Verona but they were in each other’s arms and looking happy – had they sneakily found it again but told no one? Loved the harmonies though, and this was another song that we all voted through to the final.
Israel – I’d always thought this was a very good underdog this year and IMRI absolutely nailed the performance. Terrific vocals, smart looking guy, and an enjoyable song. I’d be happy to see the contest in Tel Aviv next year. Universal approbation throughout as this was the fourth song that we all voted for.
So how did we all do? We all got a mixture of 5 or 6 right (I scored 6) except Mr Jolly-Japester who scored 8 and thereby wins a cutting of Viktorija’s prickly bush for bedding purposes. By contrast, if I’d stuck with the eight songs that I predicted would stumble at this hurdle in my earlier preview blog, I’d have scored 7/10. Belarus, Netherlands and most particularly (guffaw) Croatia were my stumbling blocks. Ah well. We’ll all be watching the big show from the luxury of the Errol Flynn Filmhouse on Saturday night – and wherever you are, I hope you have a great Eurovision night and may the best song about a dancing naked ape win!