Eurovision 2004 – act of closure.

Points arising from Saturday night:

  • Despite spending most of Saturday feeling Horribly Left Out, watching the contest on telly with six friends turned out to be almost as much fun as being there in person.
  • By the end of the evening, we had a few new converts to The Cause. One of them even wants to come to Kiev with me next year.
  • No, not K. Don’t be daft!
  • In fact, K bailed out early and went down the pub. No staying power.
  • He seemed quite sober when he left, as well. I repeat: no staying power.
  • Five of my predictions (see below) turned out to be accurate; fifteen were wrong, and four were “near misses”. And I have the temerity to brand myself an expert?
  • Nevertheless, I did at least predict the winner.
  • Although my own vote was cast for Sweden. Because Stockholm 2000 was the Best Fun Ever, and I fancied a reprise.
  • Sweden’s Lena Philipsson, those lyrics, and that microphone stand: she knew, didn’t she?
  • As I feared, most people in the room really did talk all the way through the German entry. It was with some relish that I pointed them towards my prediction on this matter.
  • Because – naturally! – I had already had printed copies of my predictions to hand. For the benefit of the group, you understand. Forewarned is forearmed, and all that.
  • What the blinking blazes was going on with all those votes for Serbia & Montenegro? (Literal translation of title: Oh My Fawn. Shades of Father Ted, we thought.) There were too many votes, from too many countries, for it be purely a case of “political” voting.
  • My take on the perenially thorny issue of “political” voting: it can get you so far, but no further. To get into the Top 5, you need to have attracted votes from right across the board.
  • Having said all that: why did Belgium’s One *punch* Life *punch* do so badly? We all thought it was great. Was this an anti-EU protest vote, directed at the mandarins in Brussels? It was all quite baffling; almost as baffling as Serbia coming second.
  • Actually, the Belgian chorus works even better if, instead of punching the air twice, you make two flicks of the head: first to the left, and then to the right. This works best of all if (unlike me) you have a floppy fringe.
  • Improbable hairdo of the night: France’s Jonatan Cerrada. (And let’s not even get started on the throat tattoo. Or the Interpretive Dancer on stilts.)
  • Or the Interpretive Gymnastics from Russia.
  • Lisa from Kent Cyprus blew it a bit, didn’t she? I’m putting it down to nerves; she was much better on Wednesday.
  • Not that this stopped the UK loyally awarding her 10 points, mind you. Funny, that.
  • Deen from Bosnia should have stuck with the tits-out costume from the semis; I suspect that his modesty cost him valuable points.
  • The First Annual Jemini Award for outstanding vocal performance goes to… Iceland’s Jónsi, who had us all howling in pain.
  • The Ruffus/Brainstorm Award (for songs/performances that would have stood up just as well in the “real”, non-Eurovision world) goes to… Spain’s Ramón. (Highly commended: Turkey’s Athena and Belgium’s Xandee.)
  • K and I were thrilled to bits when the “video postcard” between the UK and Polish entries showed the very same balloon that we flew in, four years ago, in Cappadocia.
  • That Russian spokesperson was a bit hoity-toity, wasn’t she?
  • Lorraine Kelly in Old Compton Street! Rah! Gay Pride!
  • Er… and didn’t the UK award maximum points to hunky Sakis “shekki-shekki-shekki” Rouvas from Greece? See previous point.
  • Did Wogan say anything funny? Because we weren’t really listening.
  • In Summer 1982, I studied in Kiev for a whole month. I can’t wait to get back there in 2005.
  • And that really is your lot for this year. Troubled Diva will now resume its normal, Eurovision-free service. Thank you for your forbearance.
  • Come on – why Serbia?
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