Cashing in on Eurotrash

It's Eurovision weekend again, a time when we can forget for a moment about planning corruption, and just relax and enjoy the mindless entertainment of people saying: "Good Evening, Stockholm. Here are the votes of Dublin County Council."

But it's also a time for reflecting on the state of Europe; which is not as bad as some people would make out. Sure, the euro has been in free-fall. But on the plus side, many economists believe the currency will take off eventually; and that's probably more than you can say for the career of whoever wins tonight's song contest.

On the other hand, there are a couple of worrying stories from the continent, not least concerning the threat of a ban in France on the use of cow intestines in food.

The ban is inspired by fears of BSE, of course, and it would affect a number of traditional French meal-time favourites, including intestine-encased sausages called andouilles, and potted meats called rillettes; along with several other products that fall under the general heading of charcuterie (literally: "food that only the French would eat").

According to Wednesday's London In- dependent, an agriculture ministry official in Paris was philosophical about the move, saying: "France can live without rillettes and andouilles." Which in any other country would be a statement of the obvious. But not there, where an outraged spokesman for the charcuterie community spat back that the comment proved "the ignorance of the technocrats who make such decisions".

Food has always been a hot political subject in France, as illustrated by De Gaulle's famous line: "How can anyone govern a nation that has 246 different kinds of cheese?" (Before Gaullists eliminated many leading brands and seized power during the so-called Night of the Cheese-Knives). But BSE aside, you have to sympathise with the charcutiers, who probably see their industry going the same way as the farmhouse cheese sector, which has been homogenised almost out of existence by the EU.

Indeed, as I've said before, the Eurovision Song Contest is in its own way an example of both the success of European union and the price of that success. Chances are, all the songs you hear tonight (we're assuming you don't have some kind of a life) will sound roughly the same. Some might be just a little different, particularly among the so-called "accession" states, which haven't yet met the convergence criteria. But most will conform to strict EU song standards.

It's hard to imagine now, but there used to be at least 246 different kinds of song in Europe. From Bavarian beer-drinking tunes to Scandinavian sea shanties, they were fun and colourful. But they could also be a risk to public health, which is why Brussels imposed standards in the area; and why today, on the plus side, the likes of Demis Roussos is only a memory (and one most people can deal with through counselling).

WHAT food is to France, of course, football is to Italy; and the other worrying European story of the week concerned the decision by a referee to disallow an apparently valid equaliser by Parma in last weekend's match against league leaders Juventus. A decision that meant Juventus can now wrap up the title if they win their final game, and left the wealthy president of second-placed Lazio angrier than a French charcutier.

By coincidence, the Pope (who, like Lazio, is based in Rome) gave an audience to the heads of UEFA, European soccer's governing body, on Monday, and warned them in veiled terms about the dangers of football succumbing to money. As you probably know, John Paul II is a former goalkeeper (and at 79 is still in better shape than Neville "Tubby" Southall, who until recently filled the goalkeeping position - all too literally - for Wales) and still a keen football fan who sees the sport as an influence for good.

I don't know if the Vatican suspects that the referee in the Juventus match was got at by vested interests; but anyone who fears money is ruining football received ironic confirmation from the Lazio president who, complaining about the injustice of it all, said he'd spent £130 million on hi s team in the past years, "and for what?".

It's often said that football is a religion. And if this is the case, I myself am a member of a small, extremist sect that meets on Thursday nights for a long-running weekly indoor "game". Our membership maintains strict observance of rules laid down many years ago by the founders, including "last man back's the keeper" and "you can't score outside the red line". We also reject the five-a-side orthodoxy of the mainstream churches, preferring a modest four-a-side (although this is mainly because the pitch is smaller than some of the living rooms featured in VIP magazine).

Yet even at our humble level, money is ruining the sport. As in any league, of course, we have the problem of players going on to greater things, like middle age. But there are also the standard tiger-economy pressures of people working late, or having extending business lunches at six in the evening and so on. Last week, we had only five players for the first half-hour, one too few for anything like a meaningful game (meaningful being a relative concept). When a sixth guy eventually turned up, verily, great was the rejoicing among us. But I can see why the Pope is worried.

Frank McNally can be contacted at fmcnally@irish-times.ie