Things That Have Happened Recently But Are Unimportant

Let’s run down some of the titular events, shall we?

First up, Terry Wogan’s announced his retirement from commentating on Eurovision. Now, I know some of my (former?) readers are not so keen on old Tel, but I for one will miss him very much, his blend of sardonic wit and genuine affection for the competition a big part of why I’ve enjoyed watching it so much. He clearly doesn’t think it’s much of a contest any more – at least not the kind he’s been used to – and that’s a pretty fair criticism. The Eurovision organisers did reveal a few months ago, though, that juries were coming back to help make the result fairer, although they haven’t yet said what weight their vote will carry in relation to the public’s choice. I sincerely hope that goes a way to levelling the playing field (although as long as the public are involved there will always be some bias – obviously the juries aren’t going to be squeaky clean either, they weren’t last time they were in use). And so Graham Norton is going to take the job  – well, I can certainly think of far worse people to do it, though wouldn’t it have been brilliant if they could have persuaded Simon Amstell to do it? He’s a riot on Never Mind the Buzzcocks, BBC2’s consistently hilarious music quiz, although that particular show is missing Bill Bailey more than it wants to admit.

Another thing that happened recently but is unimportant is that Pushing Daisies is now pushing daisies. I have mixed feelings on this – while I mostly enjoyed the first season (season two hasn’t made it to the UK yet), I have serious doubts about its potential longevity and actually two seasons seems an about fair shelf life to me. I will miss Anna Friel and Chi McBride – I won’t miss the shoveling of honey down my throat and Jim Dale insisting on calling Lee Pace’s character ‘the pie-maker’.

And of course who could forget that this is the time of year for that annual triumvirate of reality TV behemoths – Strictly Come Dancing, The X-Factor, and I’m A Celebrity…Get Me Out Of Here? Sadly, I didn’t forget, despite no longer really having the excuse of ‘well, my family were all watching it’ to hide behind, and I’ve tried my best to keep up with them all. Unfortunately, the most entertaining of all of them, I’m A Celebrity Etcetera, was the one I was able to watch the least of, as its every-day-at-9pm format was clashed spectacularly most days with my student lifestyle, so I missed out on such great TV moments as eventual winner Joe Swash having his bottom felt up by Mr. Sulu, Robert Kilroy-Silk threatening Timmy Mallett for laughing at him (good on you, Timmy), and Boobs (pen name: Nicola McLean) being voted out of the jungle. It’s the only show in its genre that successfully pulls off the not-taking-itself-seriously vibe, and as such is vastly more fun than any talent contest.

Meanwhile, over a far longer and therefore more boring time period, the reliable Strictly overblew itself completely on the John Sergeant “controversy” (for Pete’s sake…) and has now gotten to the stage where the audience was tonight booing judges who scored anything lower than a 10. The feeling that anyone would probably be a deserving winner at this point has sucked a lot of the interest out of the competition – I don’t have a favourite like I usually do, they’re all very nice people and they all dance very well. At least with Sergeant there was an excitement over who would win – the judges or the public? Now there’s nothing.

And, finally, the X-Factor. Oh, God, the X-Factor. Never have I been more mystified to find myself watching a programme as I am watching the X-Factor these days. It’s weird – unlike Strictly I do have favourites (specifically, anyone who isn’t that godawful talentless loofah-haired brat Eoghan Quigg) yet I do not care one iota.  This is probably because of the ITV effect – Harry Hill showed up the all-hype no-actual-excitement approach on his brilliant TV Burp by showing how hardworking, sad-to-see-him-on-a-show-this-annoying host Dermot O’Leary not once, not twice, but eight times announcing to the audience that BRITNEY SPEARS IS HERE IN THE STUDIO OH MY GOD IT’S BRITNEY PINCH YOURSELVES THIS IS THE MOST AMAZING THING SINCE TAKE THAT CHRIST WERE THEY ONLY HERE LAST WEEK IT SEEMS LIKE ALREADY THEIR APPEARANCE ON THIS SHOW HAS PASSED DOWN INTO BRITISH FOLKLORE BY THE WAY BRITNEY IS HERE WOW! and each time the audience exploded in cheers like the hideous, mindless robots they are. Typical. And don’t even get me started on the ever-more-transparent “tension” between the judges…

Yet I still watch. It’s because of the auditions – they’re funny TV, and I somehow get into an unbreakable routine because I too am a hideous, mindless robot – but don’t get sucked into them like I did. Only suicidally-bad television that way lies. It’s too late to save me, but you can still escape!

Euro-bysmal

The Eurovision Song Contest.

Yeah.

So, I guess we’ll start with the good. It was a pretty good show last night, with some fun songs and some…fun-to-hate. As usual, the hosts and, in particular, the green room presenters, were strange and slightly irritating. As usual, Terry Wogan was priceless in the commentator’s chair. What an absolute legend. (I won’t comment on the frankly brilliant suggestion of Wogan as the Eleventh Doctor…)

There were songs I genuinely liked; Iceland, for example, were catchy and exciting while being bland enough to appeal to everyone – at least, so I thought when I foolishly predicted them to win. I really, really should have known better. I blame it on alcohol. I also enjoyed the Armenian entry, which did rather better. I thought it was much more fun than the one-woman Ruslana rip-off that was Ani Lorak’s Ukrainian runner-up (the woman couldn’t really sing, but she didn’t need to, looking like she did), but fourth was a more than respectable finish.

And believe it or not, after having avoided it in the build-up to the final, I actually really enjoyed Andy Abraham’s UK entry. Wogan was right when he said it was our best in years, and I think the fact that it tied with the terrible Polish and German entries proves that the contest is almost entirely decided on politics rather than the music, which is a terrible shame. I was surprised when I heard Wogan suggest that there might be a Western breakaway in a not-too-distant future, but thinking about it it seems more and more accurate a prediction. I’d have mixed feelings about it – it’d be a real shame not to have all of Europe participating – but at least it might be fairer.

Speaking of predictions, I did rather better on others. Though I had quite enjoyed it myself, I guessed that the quirky French entry from Sebastien Tellier might find itself with the dreaded nul points, and though I wasn’t spot on, I took its relative failure as a minor success for me.  I was delighted to be vindicated in my assertion that highly-fancied Charlotte Perrelli (who, in the grey light at the start of her set, looks exactly like the life-sucking Wraith from Stargate Atlantis) bombed completely.

A mention has to go to Azerbaijan, whose painfully shrieking devil-and-angels mess was by far the worst song on the night and one of the worst in Eurovision for a long time, and yet somehow managed to garner over 100 points. Astonishing! (in a bad way.)

Finally, the top 3. It should have been obvious that Russia would win. Their song was pretty poor but inoffensive, with a handsome singer and famous skater (who knew Jurgen Klinnsmann could dance on ice?) to promote it. And, of course, the Eastern bloc got down on its knees and worshipped the fatherland like crazy. It was a crap winner, but at least it wasn’t Greece. Good god! How did that girl manage third, keeping pace with Russia for as long as she did? I nearly puked watching her performance, a tired, lazy cash-in on a mildly pretty (but out-of-place) singer, with utterly silly lyrics and an uncomfortably sweet tone. It was truly horrible, and I was actually mildly offended that it did as well as it did.

Eurovision, eh? I hate – hate - to love it.