It is a dark day when I am so broke that I am reduced to sitting in on my Friday night and seeking my entertainment in 3 hours of Eurovision memories and nostalgia on tonight’s Eurovision Late Late Show Special. Along with picking the unfortunate act that has to head off and represent us in Norway this April, we are joined by three guest slash judges, 3 Eurovision legends - Dana, Johnny Logan & Marty Whelan. You can imagine how riveting the evening was going to get as they were introduced one by one. I couldn't wait.
What I love about the song for Europe competition is, it's never about who has the best song, or who looks the best or even who dances the best. It's completely different; it's got nothing to even remotely to do with that. It's about which song is the least shite. I don't know who picks the songs at RTE, have they seriously got a panel of deaf people just randomly pulling tunes out of a hat. It is hilarious; they got rid of the Eurostar competition supposedly because you were picking the singer and not the song. . . . . . Okay, I understand why they did that, I agree we should be picking the song, rather than the singer but this is not what is happening here. I ask the people who originally are picking the five tunes that we are choosing from on the night, I simply ask them this. ‘How did you pick these songs?’ Now they will, of course, answer with 'We picked the best 5 songs that were submitted.' and I will answer back, very pissed off, 'So, then, it so happened that the first song featured Eurostar winner Leanne Moore and was written by that journalist with the Tommy Cooper hat, Waters, the second tune was written by some song writer who has had a song in every Eurovision since Johnny Logan won the fucking thing, the 3rd tune so happened to be written & performed by Mikey from Boyzone, the 4th tune was made up of foreign people (nice and pc there, lads) and then, the 5th was sung by ex Eurovision winner, Niamh Kavangh. So, it had nothing to do with the tunes, it had to do with some sort of gimmick attached to the song, didn’t it, you cunts. Do you know how I know that? Do You? Because all the tunes were terrible. Its either this or you are all complete morans. If this isn’t the case, well, then the last thing you should be doing is picking songs for Eurovision because if you put me on there as a sixth contender and my song consisted of me, standing there inserting my fist into my rectum while the mic, by my mouth, picks up my agonising shrieking, that might be considered as the hot favorite. At least people might get a laugh.
First off, the great panel of guests slash judges or, I'm going to go as far as to say, that I reckon they didn't know what they were. Every time Ryan turned to one of them and asked 'So what do you think of that song?' They stared blankly at him and said they didn't want be negative but little did they realise, by saying that they were being very clear about exactly what they thought, they thought they were shite. They kept on going on about how great everyone looked . . . . . . at a song competition, they kept going on about it ‘Well, they look great.’ You were just waiting for them to say ‘Pity about the singing.’
Johnny Logan sat there and spoke about Just Another Year and Hold Me Now over and over and over and over again. He was covered in rhinestones for fuck sake, his shirt was half open, I am not joking, he was quite toe curling. He once boasted that he went platinum in Norway and Iceland. Johnny, when are you leggin it, bro, seriously, you are so treble morto, it is not even funny. I am dying here. What sort of a fucking country am I fucking living in, who are all you cunts that make me embarrassed to be Irish, get your fucking shit together, lads.
And you know what; I'm not taking a shot at the Eurovision. That is so easy, I wouldn't do it. Seriously, I sometimes enjoy it. It is as camp as a row of tents. I love all that shit. I just scratch my head sometimes and I love this little world that all these cunts are living in, they are completely diluted. Dana is insane. She is like something out of Father Ted, well, so is Johnny Logan & Marty Whelan when I think of it but in different episodes. Arther Matthews & Graham Linihan were so on the money with that shit.
Sadly, my colleagues from panto didn't get through but we will be proudly represented by the winner from 1993, Niamh Kavanagh . . . . . . Okay, can I please stop talking about the fucking Eurovision, how the fuck did I get onto this horseshit, Jesus, I am stuck for shit to talk about on this blog.
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