"The Russians weren't as difficult as we were told they'd be". First Eurovision Semi Final.

The Russians weren't as difficult as we were told they'd be. First Eurovision Semi Final.

Oooh Anja is back in the commentatorseat next to André. I can just imagine them cuddled up together. Him on the sofa, she on the little mat at his feet. Bless.
Russia starts the show with two of the loudest presenters yet. Sweeties, you’re wearing a microphone, there is NO NEED TO SHOUT. Their accents are so heavy none of us understand a word of what they’re saying.
Those annoying scary twins (“It’s The Shining!” someone shrieks) who once won the Junior Song Contest in matching pink frilly dresses are flying through the venue on a swan (I’m not kidding), they probably had a massive fight over who got to ride up front. Suddenly there’s colour and they’re standing on stage next to Mama and Papa presenter. They look like they’re all wearing a bridal gown, including the very male Tiny Mulletman presenter. It’s one big wholesome happy Russian family. “No gays here!”

Finally the torture is over and a whole new torture can begin:

Montenegro! And already we’ve got the first marcelleke tank top for guys of the evening, how’s that for a great start. Halfway through the song Andrea is tired and sits down on a chair that just happens to be on stage for no real purpose. Her little dancerboy (the one who has to “get out of her, out of her, out of her bed”) doesn’t stop smiling and shaking his bum at the camera. He shakes his bum at the camera (with zoom and everything) at least (!) four times. This is not a subtle way to get the gay vote, Montenegro! (It’s also four of the only decent camerashots in this whole contest. Get your act together, Moscow) He’s one of the gayest dancers in this contest which makes for a rather unbelievable lovestory between these two.
André pretends he’s unaffected by the bum-shaking by saying “that wasn’t very impressive, was it”. It wasn’t??! We were very impressed trying to figure out if he was wearing underwear, I’m just saying, priorities…


Anja –ever so helpful Anja- says the guy from Czech Republic, the one in superhero costume, likes his costume so much he never takes it off. Ew. And thanks for the contribution, Anja. Where would we be without that information? There’s an ill advised rap in the middle of the song. Why? As a matter of fact, why even send this song? The only thing vaguely entertaining about it is trying to find out whether or not the lead singer’s moustache is real. The votes are split: half of us think it’s a fake theatre moustache, the other half think he saved for years to get this Freddie Mercury-thing going. “They’re going to win!” the sofa proclaims after three minutes of open-mouthed staring. Of course they are.

And then we arrive at the winner. Our very own Belgium.What magic! What bliss! A true feast for the ears and eyes! Well, at least the guys pretending to play instruments look like they’re having fun. They’re probably the only ones. Our guy looks incredibly scary up close, like he’s been living on a diet of vodka and cigarettes and hasn’t slept in days (probably all true) and all of us hide behind the sofa cushions in shame. We’re sorry Europe, next time we won’t play pretend-Elvis anymore! We’ll probably send something infinitely worse.
“That’s nice” André says. Yes, it’s nice that it’s over.

Thankfully Belarus saves us from the crazy with … more crazy. Better coiffed crazy! The Big Eurovision RockShow With Windmachine And Smoke ™! One of the guitarists, fighting against the blaze of the wind machine, had his hair stuck in waffle iron. I swear my hair was done the exact same way for my Holy Communion. Of course I was 11 and it was 1992, I believe those count as mitigating circumstances. The other’s hair has so much hairspray on it it doesn’t move an inch, despite the massive force of the wind machine. The Russians treat us to numerous shots of the venue. I believe they’re saying “look! We can fill a stadium unlike all you loser hosts before us!”. I suspect the KGB probably *ordered* people to attend, but that’s another story.


Sweden’s girl is so very very blonde and bathes in light, it looks like the light comes from within her and she’s one second away from heavenly ascension. Or it could be like Cocoon, when the old people transform. (Eat that, Holland, with your stupid hand-lights! Our Girl can light up her whole body. “The whole world will be lighted” indeed) “Female backing singers in a suit always score since Marija Serifovic”, the Girlfriend happily sighs. (Q)

The Armenians seem to have lit a fire on stage, as the smoke is overwhelming. They’re also shooting laserbeams from their hands. And they have braids. And a dance routine. Anja says this is the “first good thing of the evening”. We’re just bemused. Meh. (Q)

And we’re on to our first break. Anja does her bit for inter-European relations by saying “the Russians weren’t as difficult as we were told they’d be”. Unite Unite Europe! And “there are 24 cameras here tonight”. Fascinating stuff! Shame the director can’t figure out which ones to use then.

And on we go with the fabulously off-key Andorran version of Gerri Halliwell. She’s dressed in a pillow case with big sleeves. Long live the Vanessa Chinitor fashion statement. Not even the wind machine can save this song. But boy, does it try, they’ve set it to “hurricane”.. probably hoping she’ll fly offstage. The Girlfriend sighs something about girls with guitars. Perhaps I should contemplate getting one….

I had such high hopes for Switzerland’s britpop but it falls flat on its face. One of the guys starts headbanging before the tape even starts, showing us this is going to be rock music. Or something like it. “Mind your posture! Stand up straight” the mother in me shouts at the television. What is it with these “rock” dudes who think it’s “cool” to ruin their posture and their spines by bending over so far they look like they’re talking to a bunch of deaf toddlers? It’s not cool, kids, don’t do it.

Since Hadise is taking part for Turkey we have to pronounce her name as Ha-dee-say. Back in the day when she took part in Belgian pop idol we just called her “Hadeeeees”, but ok. There’s big hair! Pyrotechnics for no apparent reason! Not a lot of clothes! Shackles on the girls’ feet (and quite rightly so, know your place, women!), a guy they seem to have plucked off the street (why is he not wearing anything that remotely resembles what the girls are wearing?) and finally a decent shirtless dancer who looks like a model for Studio Garnier. “Instantly impressive hair! Fearless in the face of a windmachine” (Q)


Israel is all harmonies and “we love each other really” and “we didn’t mean to blow you up” and “sorry for stealing your land” and rainbows and kittens. Surprisingly enough I don’t find it nauseating, I quite like it even. The Girlfriend discovers a lesbian lovestory in the act: Noa (obviously the Master in the relationship, judging by her S&M outfit) and Mira are singing to each other, holding hands, a symbol for a love torn apart by hate and bombs. It ends with them skipping off towards the sunset. And a weird drum sequence with absolutely no purpose. It is Eurovision after all. (Q)


Bulgaria brings us the Classic Eurovision Trainwreck™ and how I love them for it. Thank you, Bulgaria! Stiltwalkers who play helicopter with each other, costumes designed by the colourblind, a lead singer in a knight’s costume with cape (yes, I’m absolutely serious here), a man dressed in just ribbons, a mullet brought to a new dimension and basically a riddle to find out how all these costumes and themes are connected. Add a falsetto to that, mega-wind machine action and the unprecedented lyrical quality of “gimme gimme your touch, showme showme your love” and by god, you have a winner in Piglet’s Eurovision Song Contest! I love you, Bulgaria!


Iceland got their inspiration from Avatar’s waternation as the girl is dressed in a horrible blue frilly frock and the backdrop for her song is the sea, with a sailboat passing by and at one point even a dolphin. A dolphin! The Girlfriend bets Yohanna probably has a dolphin tattoo somewhere, “the little rebel”! Nevertheless, the ballad is decent, very well sung, boring as hell, but ok… the fact that Fridrik from Euroband (waaaah!) is in the chorus is a consolation to me. I’m thinking Fridrik will become the new Chiara, he’ll just keep coming back to Eurovision till he brings the prize home. (Q)

FYR Macedonia (as I don’t dare write “Macedonia” since I got told off by a bunch of Greeks about it “Macedonia is ours! Hands off you ex-yugos”) sends two poodles who think they’re singing a rock song. They’re obviously in the wrong hall then, this is Eurovision, you idiots! André says something like “And that was the Macedonian entry”. Damn you, André, it’s “Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia”, try and keep up! I’m predicting strained relations between Greece and Belgium from now on.

On to Romania’s crappy entry. The girls are dressed in seaweed and one of them looks uncannily like Ha-dee-say. Two minutes into the song we discover a backing singer (probably the one doing all the singing) far far away in the background. She’s dressed in the same colours as the backdrop. “You, go and stand overthere! And try to blend into the background! You’re not pretty enough for this contest!” Eurovision can be cruel. (Q)

Finland! Fire ! Skimpily dressed girls ! The biggest nineties throwback ever, including a lead singer with his baseball cap on …backwards (The rebel!) and shirtless men waving sticks on fire. The girls are basically just standing about looking slutty and botoxed. I decide they deserve points just for the firehazard. And apparently (according to the straight girls/gay boys on the sofa) for the nicely waxed pecs of the fire-jugglers. Alrighty then. (Q)


Anja tells us the Portuguese singer just “radiates Portugal”. My god, I hope that’s a figure of speech. And if she does, then Portugal looks a bit gloomy, seeing as she’s dressed in a black frock and black tights. But thankfully Portugal threw together a group of the gayest men they could find and handed them each an instrument (“you don’t have to play for real, don’t worry about it”), so we get a glimpse at the gayest way ever to play the banjo and the drums. The men are smiling beatifically at the camera. Play that mini-banjo, sweetie! (Q)


And then we get to Malta’s snoozefest. Haven’t we heard this song before? Yes, twice before actually. And she’s probably even wearing the same dress. Yes, Chiara knows how to belt out a song. Blablabla…boring. Boring. Boring. See you in 2011, Chiara! (Q)

Bosnia&Herzegovina sends us an ethnic ballad with a windmachine sung by a very tortured looking Herr Flick. I love you, Bosnia, I do. Unfortunately I’m the only one in the house who does. Cretins! Heathens! At least André and I are fans. (Q)


And that’s it for the contestants. On come Mr and Mrs Shouty Grabbyhands (he can’t let go of his co-presenter) and the Big Russian Intervalact. It’s a doozy. (Have a look here if you think you can handle it).
In order to show us their friendly face Russia first shows us a list of all the things they’ve won in the past year, they’re ever so humble. There’s something with an iceskating rink and a mullet, then something with icehockey, some beautypageant.
And then, all in the nature of friendship, one of their army choirs goes on stage to mime Russian classics (I’m a sucker for Russian choirs, but let’s keep it quiet), there’s some folkdancing and they show they’re trendy with a couple of American Russian cheerleaders and those faux-lesbian-hasbeens Tatu. It’s every cliché under the sun and I’m loving it. To top it all of, the show ends with a bright blue airplane that’s wheeled on stage (“we have planes and we’re watching you”) and a pink (pink!!) little tank. Russia: the best combination of war and showbizz you’ve ever seen. I’m thinking they’ll show us a nuclear warhead in the interval act for the final.

I can’t wait for Thursday. Bring on the next semi! I’m ready for it.