Eurovision Song contest madness- what a show!

Eurovision Song Contest madness- what a show!

Oh my goodness! How on earth can you even begin to describe the Eurovision Song Contest without falling about in gales of laughter and crumpling into a ball of giggly frivolity? For what seems like a lifetime now,  the Eurovision Song Contest has had us rolling and rocking with happiness, pleasure, wonder, incredulity and an inexplicable joy. Can any TV event take us into an almost supernatural world where nothing seems real and the only semblance of normality can be found at the end of the song contest when the cameras are switched off and all of the acts have finally finished their party pieces?

For the best part of 61 years the Eurovision Song Contest has captivated, enthralled, bemused, confused, heartened, moved and touched the whole of Europe. It is undoubtedly one of the craziest, silliest, most outrageous and gaudily colourful of pop music extravaganzas you could possibly imagine. It is a potty parody of everything music lovers held dear, completely berserk, dotty, breathtakingly bonkers, at times almost irrationally complicated. There were times last night when I began to think that TV couldn't get any better or worse. It hardly seemed possible that TV could be so mesmeric and, at the same time, completely beyond anybody's understanding.

And yet this was just the most joyous fun. Once again Europe had exceeded our wildest expectations. Europe had gathered its forces together, waved its patriotic flags, saluted its wackiest of performers and nobody seemed particularly bothered about the result. It was almost as if the whole of Europe had abandoned itself to an evening of nonsense, bizarre surrealism, the sublime and ridiculous before whipping itself into another mad frenzy of strangeness, curiosity and just fun, fun and fun.

Last night the citizens of Ukraine were treated to a stupendous feast of electro pop, flashing lights, a gorilla and a continuous sequence of happy go lucky, permanently elated singers and bands whose only objective it seemed was to entertain and baffle. This was the show of all shows, a grand banquet of stupidity, foolhardiness and just a hint of the circus about it. If there was anybody who can understand the scoring system in the Eurovision Song Contest then I have nothing but admiration for you.

For Britain and the United Kingdom this year's Eurovision Song Contest meant something entirely different. After all the hullabaloo, palaver, frantic furore and mayhem left behind with Brexit and the EU withdrawal, there were some who privately felt that the UK had upset too many people and would never ever be forgiven. But then we all felt that the UK representation was nothing more than a standing joke anyway. Who cares about Britain, that little island where the only people who sing are those who sing in the  shower or appear on Britain's Got Talent? Still you have to take your hat off to the British for their sheer, gritty perseverance.

The UK have been without a Eurovision victory for exactly 20 years and you have to believe that Katrina and the Waves, our last Eurovision victors may be feeling that her name is destined to become a footnote in Eurovision history. Still, we had another crack at Eurovision glory and this time finished up with dignity intact and respectability ensured.

 Lucie Jones, the UK particpant, sung angelically but didn't quite have what it took to wow those very shrewd Eurovision judges. Never mind Lucie. You were plucky and spirited, dedicated to the cause but once again it was agonisingly out of your reach.  Her delivery was clear, articulate and very professional, her arms and fingers delightfully expressive and it was all very honourable and well intentioned. But at the end of the evening Lucie could only look on with both longing and a touch of envy at the winner of this Eurovision contest. There was a lovely air of sincerity and slinky elegance about Lucie Jones but maybe the UK should have another go next year. You never know it might just be our year in 2018. You've got to keep trying because eventually by the law of averages we'll do it. Hope so anyway.

 You've got to hand it to those happy clappy European singers and bands who keep belting out those lovely soppy old ballads that never sound even remotely tuneful. From the opening song to the bitter end we were subjected to the kind of performances that somehow belonged to the old English music hall. This was the epitome of cheesiness and kitsch, a superabundance of barminess, blatant karaoke and pub singing at its worst, sometimes even inspirational although that might be pushing the superlative.

It's hard to believe that Britain is the only European country that  doesn't take Eurovision seriously whereas the rest of both Western and Eastern Europe throw wild parties with plenty of food and drink. This has been the norm for many decades and as the smoke machines began to slowly swallow up the stage and the flashing white searchlights beamed down on all of the contestants you were reminded of some huge West End musical where everything isn't quite what it seems.

And yet for poor, hapless Lucie Jones this wasn't how it was supposed to work out. You thought of her illustrious Eurovision predecessors such as The Brotherhood of Mann, a charming girl boy, girl boy combo who Saved All Their Kisses For Us in the days of flared denim trousers and platform shoes, when the 1970s seemed to spin around and around like the proverbial fairground ferris wheel.

Then in 1981 Bucks Fizz another girl boy, girl boy group teased and flirted with us indulging in the kind of dance routine that may never be seen again. Both Cheryl Baker and Jay Aston, half way through 'Making Your Mind Up' proceeded to rip off their skirts much to the amazement of a male population who must have thought it was their birthday. This was truly a ground breaking and pioneering time for popular music and particularly Eurovision Song Contests. It simply couldn't have got any better but we all knew how desperately close we'd been to winning Eurovision before.

During the 1960s Cliff Richard's Congratulations was shoved quite unceremoniously into second place and Lulu brought us what became the national anthem of English entries. Boom Bang- A- Bang would enshrine itself into Eurovision folklore. It became synonymous with song titles that showed very little in the way of  imagination and for years afterwards quite possibly came to haunt us. Then the Shadows briefly shimmied their way into our hearts but forgot to tell Cliff Richard while in recent times Engelbert Humperdinck crooned away almost valiantly when it would have been far easier not to take part for the United Kingdom. It was all very triumphant and positive, heartfelt and meaningful but at times you felt it would have been far preferable to just take the year off - or just not take part at all.

So it is that we come right up to date. It's time to take you on a glorious summary of this year's Eurovision Song Contest runners and riders, the businesslike and industrious, the nutty and the insane, the show offs and the plain daft. How Eurovision crosses the whole spectrum of taste and the tasteless, the simple and the extravagant. There was the mind bogglingly boring, barely believable, the scarcely credible and then the acts that just wanted to have a good old fashioned knees up on stage.

 But rather like a a never ending dreamscape it just went on and on until you eventually found myself pleading for the show to go on for ever. One day the Eurovision Song Contest will go on indefinitely and never stop to pause for breath. This is the most important day of the TV entertainment calendar and nothing should be allowed to take precedence to it.  In fact I think we should cancel Christmas and Easter because this is one crackerjack of a show that should be shown on both of these days.

Right here we go then. Israel stepped up to the plate first all. Sadly, as we were later to discover, this would be Israel's last ever Eurovision Song Contest because Israel's premier broadcasting company would be shutting down. Before they bowed out though Israel gave us a John Travolta lookalike, complete in black, short sleeved shirt. Surrounded by flashing red studio lights, shooting flames and very athletic dancers. the young man gave us a very impressive display of cool and Saturday Night Fever hip shaking but little in the way of a memorable and hummable song. Still he did come from Israel and he did get my vote.

Then Poland appeared in front of us. Once again almost completely engulfed in soft blue smoke a woman in white stood imposingly on her own rather like a Greek statue or a Roman empress about to deliver a speech from a slab of stone. In a revealing dress her hair was blown ever so gently by a wind machine and it all looked very heavenly, ethereal and saintly. Has Poland ever produced a more magisterial singer? Probably not. Oh incidentally before I forget why did she need to be accompanied by fluttering birds? Answers on a postcard or maybe not.

Then there was Belarus. Now years ago the very idea that anybody from Belarus would grace a Eurovision Song Contest would probably have been laughed  and sniggered at. I'm not sure why but I simply couldn't understand the whole concept and premise of a singer or group from Belarus. I heartily apologise to the entire population of Belarus.

Anyway Belarus were in Ukraine which sounds like a visit from one of your next door neighbours. Onto the stage stepped a rather dumbfounded gentleman who then seemed to go completely loopy. It's hard to believe what exactly he was trying to convey to the watching millions but I'm not sure it was music or singing prowess. Here we had a mixture of the peculiar and the downright eccentric. Throughout a gentleman with guitar bellowed out something in his own language and was joined by an equally as out of context woman wearing white rags furiously playing the violin. Go figure. Then we had a short rendition of that Eurovision favourite Hey Yo, Hey Yo which ironically sounded quite good if slightly pointless.

Next up was Austria who really shouldn't have bothered but did and quite frankly should give serious consideration to taking part in next year's contest. The gentleman who represented Austria did give us passable impersonation of something that was laid back and presentable. But although his voice was pleasant and his shirt was whiter than white anybody who sings their song sitting quite casually on a half moon stage prop has to be questioned. There were pink, blue, red and white clouds but nothing of any real colour on stage. Thankyou Austria but come back next year.

Then it was Armenia's turn to hog the limelight. All dressed in black and encircled by more leaping flames, our girl from Armenia reminded you of Madonna at the beginning of her career, pouting and preening, sexy and suggestive, singing her heart out with much conviction, a song that was both haunting and slightly unnerving, a song that seemed to be going nowhere at all before the smoke returned and that was the end of that. Sorry Armenia. This was not to Europe's liking.

Then it was time for Holland to weave their magic. You half expected the singer or group to be surrounded by the stereotypical bicycles, canals and windmills but that was never likely to happen, Instead we had three heavily made up girls who, personally recalled the Spice Girls at the start of their career. It was all very sweet. sugary and spicy but it didn't really catch on and by the end they must have been yearning for a tram to take them back to Amsterdam.

Moldova had to be next on, one of the many European countries whose Eurovision credentials would once again have been brutally dismissed 50 years ago. Here was a country that were just looking to be made fun of and easily lampooned but here they were here on the big Eurovision stage, an incredible collection of smart white shirts, black bow ties and suits that looked as though they'd been borrowed from a smoky jazz club. Then a gentleman started blowing into the most extraordinary saxophone and some of us thought we were dreaming. It had to be seen to be believed. This was the essence of Eurovision.

Of course there then followed Azerjaban another remnant of the old Communist bloc. Now this was the sight to be behold. No other song in their entire history of  Eurovision has  left us so completely bewildered and scratching our heads but this was quite literally a throwback to Eurovision of old. Picture the scene. The set is a school classroom with what can only be described as ungrammatical writing, random words, grafitti and a girl singer with horrible lip stick. There you are. And the girl also wore one of those fashionable air traffic controller's microphones which only added to the air of mystique. The song was quite naturally forgettable and if you ever hear it again anywhere then may I sympathise with you whole heartedly.

Now who's next in this litany of lunacy. Hungary folks. The great food lovers among us will tell us all about the Hungarians love of goulash but on Eurovision night there was something distinctly unappetising about their contribution to the night's festivities. A man in gold braided jacket and pony tail stood on the stage as if frozen and immobile. Then onto the subject of violins once again, the man was promptly joined by a female violinist who looked as if she was putting heart and soul into everything.

Then there was the song. Oh how the whole audience must have been dreading this moment. The song sounded like some dreadfully out of tune folk song that was heartfelt and sincere but may as well have been silent because at no point did it approximate to classic singing. Hungary please never again for the sake of my ears. Truly awful. Come back next year when you've learnt how to cobble together a crotchet and quaver. My ears may well have been bleeding. Sorry Hungary, it's nothing personal. You're a lovely country but you'll have to do it all again next year. Thanks.

Then the naturally musical Italy. Renowned for its opera and the richly operatic Pavarotti. Italy's musical heritage goes much further back than the inception of the Eurovision Song Contest. Here the Italians offered us a cute, catchy song performed by a gentleman with a neat moustache who spent his entire four or five minutes in a kind of rapture of hands, fingers and waving arms. It began promisingly but then descended into the realms of farce and absurdity. Our friend from Italy was accompanied by a bloke in a gorilla's outfit which was almost side splittingly laughable. Your guess is as good as mine.

How could we forget Denmark. Shall we say it was very easy to forget Denmark. What possessed a Danish girl to stride out onto a Eurovision stage with flowing blonde hair and a red dress that may well have had its origins in a nursery rhyme or fairy tale. Poor Denmark. Our female Danish friend did her utmost but the song itself was almost certainly forgettable and although she projected very convincingly she was no Adele or Shirley Bassey. Full marks for trying Denmark.

And then the winner of this year's Eurovision Song Contest made his way to the centre of a by now atmospheric and feverish Ukranian crowd. Portugal won the Eurovision Song Contest because a young man with a sweet, simple song melted the hearts of a very discerning Eurovision audience. His voice was beautiful and those fingers and arms were almost uncontrollably expressive. There was another burst of weeping violins and sugar coated sentimentality and the females in Ukraine were sobbing into their handkerchiefs.

By far the most imaginative of entries came from Croatia. Croatia gave us wonderful opera, rock and pop and the kind of performance that always be remembered for all the right reasons. There was a brief violin- that did seem a prominent feature of the whole night- followed and then a song of enormous style and opulent originality. A man wearing a black opera jacket suddenly turned around and presented us with a black leather jacket. Oh for the contrasting faces of Eurovision. You had to be there to believe it. Maybe the audience were so taken by it all that they had to blink twice. It was a stunning Eurovision moment.

When Australia came on next Ukraine almost felt spoilt. Now as we all know that geographically speaking Australia is about as far away from Europe as it's possible to be. In fact if you were to unfold a map of the world Australia is several continents away from Europe. Still who cares this was Eurovision and we'll just make up the rules as we go on.

Australia were represented by a rosy cheeked 17 year old boy who looked as if he'd just invested in his first motor bike. Wearing a long jacket that seemed to trail along the floor almost endlessly, this was another very cheesy offering and very much a butter wouldn't have melted in his mouth display. The song itself was appalling and nondescript but hey Australia we await you in the Ashes during the winter.

Greece, if memory serves me correctly, were always awful and discordant. Year after year it was the same old, plate smashing folksy song on the balalaika. This year they seemed to have got it right. Now an elegant girl with yet more flowing hair and beige dress walloped us around the ears with a fast paced disco number that pulsed and throbbed away for what seemed a long time. Then there were the very effective graphics; splashes of dripping water with two shirtless men swaying provocatively behind our singer. This is what Eurovision was all about.

Spain were next up. Oh for the land of flamenco dancers and castanets of this very rhythmic country. In Ukraine, Spain gave us a jolly guy in a beach shirt with a very breezy and buoyant song. Then our old friend the very appropriate Spanish guitar materialised out of nowhere and it all became very up tempo, jolly once again, jaunty and heart warming. Now the man with the ripped beach shirt became very entertaining and you began to think of holidays to Benidorm or the multitude of Costa Bravas and Blancas. Oh we're off to the land of sangria. Now what happened to my donkey? I must have left it behind on the beach.

And so we move onto Norway as seems perfectly natural. The land of the fjords and geysers and breathtaking scenery. Norway swept us effortlessly into new dimensions. Here was an organist wearing the strangest of masks that must have been taken from the set of a Star Wars movie. Then with those very infectious techno and electro beats our Norwegian friend blasted out what sounded some very disjointed piece of music that didn't really flow at all but then what do I know about music.

As previously mentioned Lucie Jones made her debut on the Eurovision scene and although finishing creditably, must now be hoping that nobody ever asks her to sing in the Eurovision Song Contest again. After jettisoning ourselves from our European neighbours, she must believe that a proper singing career begins for her from this point onwards.

In keeping with the general theme of the evening. Cyprus were in all black leather and full of verve, vitality and joie de vivre. It was an uplifting, soul baring song, nicely pleasing on the ear but not nearly convincing enough to trouble any of the pace setters. In my mind at least Cyprus will always be associated with BBC Radio 2's wonderful Family Favourites at Sunday lunchtime. Cyprus was forever the country where the British armed forces sent their wives and girlfriends home their very best wishes. The Eurovision Song Contest was one military expedition too far for Cyprus.

Romania of course, are more or less newcomers to this Eurovision music celebration  and how they must have regretted their first nervous steps into a brand new world. Wait for it folks. Romania, quite hilariously and astonishingly gave us a yodelling song. No I'm serious. a yodelling song. Somebody in a Budapest betting shop must have laid good odds on Romania yodelling their way into our affections. A girl in red and guy in black mixed rap and yodelling. It was a potent cocktail. It was also dreadfully dire and the most revolting rubbish ever seen in Eurovision circles. How did yodelling and rap ever reach Ukraine without being told to go back and think of something else. It was like listening to a very bad April Fools joke but since I would never claim to be a music aficionado this is only my opinion.

Germany were doing it all again, World football champions, a country that carries thoroughness and efficiency wherever they go, Germany had to believe that this would be their evening.  This time though it all went terribly wrong for Germany. True a fraulein with a strong, forthright voice bellowed out a forceful ditty but there is a severity and discipline about everything the Germans do and that straight auburn hair looked as if it had been combed a thousand times.

Then there were those final batch of contestants giving it all for their country, the pride of their nation and devoted to the cause of victory but with very few pretensions. Sweden still hark back nostalgically to those golden days of Abba and Eurovision greatness. This year's rendition was a funky disco number incorporating everything that was truly schmaltzy and syrupy about Eurovision. A smart guy with tight jacket and boy band dancers were so thrilled to be at a song contest that nothing else seems to matter apart from a boogie and a sing song. It had to be one of the defining images of the evening.

Bulgaria were the penultimate act of the evening and by now we were all agreed that this had been an evening to savour. Throughout the Eurovision Song Contest has evoked so many weird and wacky memories that some of them were just wackier than others. Bulgaria gave us a 17 year old boy cum spring chicken wet behind the ears but still smiling and still enthusiastic. In black coat and excessively long shirt sleeves Bulgaria gave us a young man who was slick, professional, admirably well adjusted and marvellously mature. For Bulgaria this had to be their finest hour.

Finally there was France with another youngster, a fresh faced girl who looked briefly liked Britain's Sandy Shaw back in the 1960s but this time though there were no bare feet. Instead we were given the dulcet tones of a French lady with a breezy, upbeat, endearing song that full of Gallic charm but was swiftly swamped in vivid images of the Eiffel Tower. This was not to be France's piece de resistance.

So there you have it folks. It was another Eurovision Song Contest year and although an event that has frequently been held up for ridicule and blunt criticism there can be no denying that there is an enduring, almost culturally enriching that only Eurovision can give us. It's unique, it's a celebration, a festival of frothy, candy floss pop and everything you could wish for in European pop music. It's time to jot down Lisbon for next year's contest. This is one date in our diary that has to be remembered.