Hats Off to Moldova!

What with the rush of events, and the sunshine, and the gardening, and the unaccustomed joy of having my daughter home - and married - my blogmind has recently lapsed into torpor, largely indifferent to the passing scene and incapable of forming much in the way of coherent thought. Only one thing could rouse it to return to the blogscape - the Eurovision Song Contest, always a landmark event here on Nigeness, which launched two years ago in the stunned aftermath of Russia's infamous victory. And talking of stunned aftermaths, here's the Daily Mail's characteristic we wuz robbed take on last night's Azerbaijani triumph - though technically it's an Ireland wuz robbed take. Jedward, in their deranged and uncoordinated way (identical twins who can't make a single movement in synch!), did give one of the few memorable performances of the night. Azerbaijan's was deeply forgettable, just a fairly slick bit of bland Europop - but that, alas, is the way Eurovision is going. The heats having weeded out most of the ethnic nutjobs, the finalists tend to turn out dreary stuff, mostly in English (the international language of pop!). Most of the fun is now in the staging and design, which tends to be appalling, in a kitschy camp way - and here too Jedward beat the rest, as they pranced around against bright, ever-changing graphics in their strange, big-shouldered suits, channelling Britney Spears, the Pet Shop Boys and Gilbert and George simultaneously. This was Eurovision lunacy of a high order, and few of the other entrants got near it. After a promising start - a smug blond kid from Finland singing a terrible song about saving the planet, and a touch of ethnic eccentricity from Bosnia and Herzegovina (a lively band led by a man who looked like Alan Sugar crossed with Eric Idle, with much random dancing, blasts of brass, etc) - the entrants were mostly bland and dreary, apart from Moldova, whose enthusiastic band of men in 6ft-tall fur hats briefly brought things back to life. A disappointing contest then, which Graham Norton's torpid commentary did little to enliven. The German staging was interesting - each entrant nation was represented not by a cheesy film of its attractions but by dreary footage of an exile from that country who lived in Germany. Hmm... The German after-show 'entertainment' - provided at great length by a tall man in a tight checked suit and porkpie hat who sang, among much else, a song titled I Love Four Of My Five Kids - injected a little last-minute Euromadness. But it was too little, too late. Next year in Baku! That might be fun...