You’re a vision
He: Gah! Look at the time! We’ve got to turn it on!
Me (watching him fumble with the radio dial): Turn what on? Is eight o’clock in the evening. Pat Kenny’s not on again until tomorrow.
He (amazed at my igorance): The Eurovision! The semifinals!
Note: He is American, yet knows more about the Eurovision than I do. He is even able to sing me bits of Et Cetera, describing it as a kind of “Avril Lavigne-y” riff on the Eurovision theme.* What he doesn’t know is that the Eurovision is broadcast on the telly, not the radio. Ha! There are some things you just have to be born here to know about, I remind him with some smugness.
He watches it sporadically over the course of the evening as he breezes through the living room and throws out comments like “Romania’s got a cute singer” and “Serbia is ker-razy.” When the quality of the entries fails to hold his attention, he wanders off and I am left to watch the important Moment of Truth when the votes come in, though I am so transfixed by the presenter’s Scarecrow And Mrs King haircut (is this really all the rage in Russia? it’s the kind of winged affair that’d turn you right off an oligarch, if you ask me) that I barely register the fact that Ireland hasn’t qualified. Ew, embarrassing.
I go back and YouTube all the songs. You know, because I’m a busy lady. “You say you’re sorry but you’re not. Et cetera.” Hmmm, and we’re actually an English-speaking nation. As for Andrew Lloyd Webber’s entry - “I’ve got the heart / To reach the heights / To show you it’s my time tonight” – it’s clear from the banal lyrics and grinding rhymes that the United Kingdom are taking things very seriously this year.
Then I alight on the German entry: “Do the skiddly buffely boodely bump (Sing skiddly buffely boodely bump).” Ooh! Now that’s what I call Euro Vision. It’s English, see, but not as we know it. The universal language of boodely bump. My money’s on Miss Kiss Kiss Bang.
*He has since admitted that the Avril Lavigne comparison was not his own.