Semi 2: Homoeroticism, thigh-high boots and ... you guessed it, pyro!

I can’t believe I took time off work to write this Eurovision recap. I must be demented insane stupid idiotic crazy devoted. And then blogger crashed, so I can only upload this in the evening. Argh!
What can I say, we all make sacrifices. Just look at poor Dana International!

Apparently, because this is Eurovision for Dummies, they received thousands of text messages and emails (who knew their phone numbers and e-mailaddresses were so widespread) from people asking them to explain the rules of the song contest. The rules. Of the song contest. Yes. Alright. Don’t we all have SvenOrAndré commentators? Isn’t everyone a Eurovision Queen? Apparently not then. So on they go again with the whole charade complete with pyro (well, they had some lying around so why not use it) and “start voting now!” and yeah... not even SvenOrAndré are listening at this point. If only Short Prozac Lady had worn something red they’d be dressed in the colours of the the German (and Belgian) flag. A missed opportunity if ever there was one!

Yay Dino! My little Bosnian woodnymph! They must spike the tap water with prozac in Bosnia if the group on stage is any indication . And how entertaining for us! “Is anyone’s crotch alight?” the Sofa asks, because we’re used to that now. For a minute we fear they used up all the pyro in the first semi, but thankfully there’s some left for the ending of the song. We get a tweet asking if “they’ve left the caged dancing bear in Sarajevo”. Hush now. This is class. Go Dino!!

Austria brings us a game of “Recognise the melody from this song from every other ballad ever in the history of music and assorted Disney films”. For some reason the singer scares me. Could be the eyebrows. Our hosts come back in the living room after putting their daughter to bed: “Hey, isn’t this stolen from something?”. Probably yes. But the woman can sing. Even if all she sings is a crappy Disney ballad.

Oh, it’s the Netherlands with a true snoozefest of “let’s walk around on stage in no particular order – it’s not like we had six months to prepare something that looks remotely like an act, now is it.” No loitering, Holland! It’s just not done when you have a right-winged government! “This might go through” SvenOrAndré says. I think they handed out leftover bottles of Prozac in the commentary booths...

Not that Belgium is any better. Though for some reason the Sofa is quite happy with it. I think we all expected it to be even worse. A little language riot when the Flemish placard of one of the “Belgian divers: Norbert and Guido” in the postcard is quickly turned over to show a German text. “Once again us poor Flemish are humiliated and discriminated against! Once again the Walloons are mocking us! Well, that one Flemish guy in the group is obviously the better one” the Separatist Sofa goes. (And we are kidding, people! The Flemish flag has no style, so we couldn’t split up even if we wanted to!) I mean, Eurovision should thank us: we’re saving them a lot of money: no tape, no musicians. And what do we get for it? A bus ticket home! Tsk! It’s all politics! (and crappy songs)

Slovakia picked up some porn twins from an alley somewhere. One of them tries to make sultry moves and pouty lips. It’s scary. Their dresses are a size too small, unless their boobs were meant to look that way. But then what do I know about porn fashion. “Unless they undress, this is shit” our Token Straight Men (for there are two) proclaim. Next!

Oh. A commercial break already? And there’s the Ukraine. “Well hel-lo” the Wife goes. I fear for my life, because whenever she starts fancying short-haired short ladies (everything I’m not) I know she’s just one step away from grabbing the scissors going to the hairdressers and getting herself a short haircut. Which looks good on her, but then I want one and then she goes “your head is too big for short hair” and then I think about stereotypical lesbian haircuts and if her hair is short and mine is long does that make her “the man” and me “the woman” and ... oh, right. Not about me. Sorry. About the song. As I was saying, the Wife was going “hel-lo” and that, together with the sand drawing is the only good thing about this song. But apparently it’s enough to get through to the final. “Someone had poultry for lunch” the Wife goes, looking at Ukraine’s dress.
We now notice that not only is SvenOrAndré blatantly stealing from my blog (not that I’m arrogant or anything) he also seems to be listening in on our conversation because a minute after I say “the Ukraine always sends something pretty. Or Verka Serduchka.” SvenOrAndré goes “The Ukraine always send a pretty girl to Eurovision”. Cut it out, SvenOrAndré (or at least mention La Serduchka)!

Moldova brings us the second Pet Shop Boys tribute of this year’s Eurovision (after Turkey’s Chris Lowe patented fake keyboard playing in the first semi) with the Pointy Hats from Can You Forgive her. (Though they looked much better on Messrs Tennant and Lowe.) The Sofa is divided. One half loves the garden gnome idiotic quality of it all, the other half misses the drumming granny and moans that no-one’s wearing feathers and no-one’s crotch is on fire.

We notice relations in the SvenOrAndré household are quite business-like still. Sven is probably worried about being Andrés third in a few years, André might not know how to handle a young excited co-presenter. We hope they work it out.

Because here is Sweden! Babyfaced Not-Gay-But-Sure-Looking-It men are quite the thing in this year’s contest (Only in this year’s?). Eric gets pawed by a lot of men in leather who show us their muscles. Sakis would be so proud. “My body wants you girl”, he sings. No, it doesn’t, you big liar. “Bieber meets muse” we get texted. It’s a homoerotic video disguised as a Eurovision entry. Go Sweden!

Long live the angst in Cyprus. Shame about the singing. And Blatant Sakis Move Alert! All of a sudden Xena Warrior princess starts swinging a big lamp over the audience, for no apparent reason. As I said, shame about the singing. And Sakis did that move better.

Again the Wife goes mad over Bulgaria’s mohawk. “She shouldn’t have worn white if she wanted to be a metalchick” someone remarks. But white is customary for Eurovision. It’d be like going to a royal wedding without a hat, some things are just not done. What a dilemma. The Germans lose a capital to the pyro in this song. We fear it might be a terrorist attack, but nope, it’s just the staging.

And another commercial break where, yes, we’ll admit it, we mention Ze War, and how all our grannies hated the Germans, but loved Derrick.
It’s just one of those things.

FYR Macedonia brings us gay ballet. Well, gayer ballet. Shame about the singing, the song was pretty brilliant until he opened his mouth. Not even the gay midget playing the accordion saves it.

Oooh Dana! Dana! Dana! André promises us that her dress couldn’t cover up her boobs in the rehearsals, but alas… no such luck. Can I say how gutted, shocked and appalled I am that La Diva from Israel didn’t make it through to the final? Can I say how disappointed I am in you, Europe for allowing this to happen?! You suck, Europe! It’s just not on! She’s Eurovision Royalty! She’s the Diva! Or did the poor Eurovision voters think Dana was one of those other women who performed on Tuesday? But Dana looks a lot more like a woman than they do! Aargh. I don’t get it. All she had to do was walk down the catwalk and the crowd in the arena went into a frenzy. Yes, the song wasn’t all that, but that never stopped us before. I’m shocked. We love you, Dana, don’t worry! (Oh, I do not want to be a member of that Israeli delegation right now...)

The Wife doesn’t even notice that Slovenia is wearing leather boots up to her thighs. For some reason she’s too busy staring at the backing singers. All of us are. No-one is listening to the song. We’ll get a second chance I suppose.

The guy from Romania probably thinks he’s hot. You can tell by the way he looks into the camera. Newsflash honey: you’re not. Oh, and it’s the return of the 80s pianist. So glad to see you’re back. “Lose the jackets!” the Straight Male and Lesbian part of The Sofa chant “Lose the jackets”. Not that we’re superficial or anything. Alas, the ladies in the background keep their jackets on. Perhaps in the final?

We go back to the green room. “We want commercials instead” The Sofa goes.

We didn’t know Rachel from Glee would be performing for Estonia. Thankfully the kids are already tucked up in bed, because this “one two seven three” counting is just not on. They must never have watched Count Dracula when they were a kid. Someone is singing off key, but we’re not sure it’s the lead singer. I expect hair to be pulled and drama queen scenes backstage! But hey, off key singing is not a reason not to make it to the final when you’re from Estonia. So there is that.

Yes, we know you love Belarus, but apparently the rest of Europe isn’t too keen on the place. SvenOrAndré surprisingly doesn’t mention that “Belarus is the last dictatorship of Europe” though we expect the poor lady to get sent to a detention camp when she gets back home. Or they’ll just blame us heathens, that’s also possible. Listen, when you sing something patriotic we expect pyro, flag waving and perhaps some military staging. Not this. Three minutes just keeps lasting longer and longer....

The Sofa is up in arms about Latvia’s “Luscious Thighs” and Stereo Mike makes another appearance, pretending to be a nerd. When I was writing this down I first wrote “pretends to be a rapper”, which made me smile. Ha. Oh how I amuse me! In a surprising turn of events, judging by the dirty grin on the singer’s face, he even knows what “luscious thighs” are. Dirty guy!

After Rachel for Estonia, Denmark hired Puck from Glee, who hides a bird’s nest in his hair. “ooooh someone’s got a balloon!” (yeah, we’re used to dealing with babies these days). The sofa’s divided about the singer’s bare back. Hot or not, or just run out of fabric? We’ve got Saturday to watch it again.

Kraftwerk! Pet Shop Boys-background! It’s Ireland. My my, who’d have thought they wouldn’t be able to sing live? “Why are their microphones turned down so much, we can only hear the beat?” Why oh why…. Someone hand these guys their Ritalin, please almighty. I certainly wouldn’t want them in my house, but on the Eurovision stage... well it’s all pretty fabulous isn’t it. “how can they not know how ridicilous they are?” “they’re blond” “Are they even really blond?” We’re not really listening, but yay Jedward. When the pyro goes off you can just see them think “Pyro?! Does that mean we won?!”. Not yet you didn’t. And let’s hope you don’t.

“Ooh is this also taking part? It’s the best we’ve seen so far” Sweetie, that’s the interval act.

The Sofa proves they have no taste because when we pool our votes this is the top three:
3. Bosnia (only third??)
2. Ireland (“Well at least Ireland is taking the contest seriously”)
1...... Sweden.
Yes. We’re superficial.
Israel came fourth in our poll, in case you were wondering.

But not in Europe’s.
Poor Dana.

But on we go to Saturday’s final. With a lot of good songs, a lot of crappy songs, a lot of ugly women, plenty of pyro, wind machines and key changes, possibly some more Pet Shop Boys tributes (Ze Boys Are Big In Germany) and the big five.
Wouldn’t want to miss that, now would you?!

Oh. And with a second place in the final, Dino Merlin, my big bearded friend, is doomed. Since the winner generally comes from the last third of the songs I’m starting to fear Serbia might just win the whole damn thing.
Damn you, Serbia.