Denmark's Eurotrash gold standard

Like most of you I'm greatly looking forward, now that the lilacs are in bloom, to witnessing the crucifixion of poular music upon the cross of the Eruovision Song Contest. Last year, Denmark's hosts were dubbed by the British compere, Terry Wogan, as 'Dr Death and the tooth fairy'. They struggled to introduce the still-born offerings of each country in ghastly rhyming couplets. Now folks, this was very much in the spirit of the occasion, being crass and tacky beyond belief. Most horrible of all, it was well-meaning. The sad thing is, those poor trusting Danes probably meant it. There is a tradition in Denmark of performing small dead party pieces in the name of social cohesion. Could they have been commiting this crime on a grand scale? It seems so. I would like to pose two questions to those Askadrunkeers out there: 1. What do we know about the Estonian's naivety that will allow them, as this year's hosts, to enhance the awfulneess of the event on the equivalent scale to that of Denmark; 2. Is the Eurovision Contest still the best piece of litmus paper to dip into the liberal eligibility of prospective members of Euroland: i.e. Serbia finally competes with a song which goes something like this (loose translation):

Kosovo! Oh Kosovo, where we were total shits! Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, Kosovo: where we were quite frankly totally inhumane! Take it away, oh why are we Hopelessly nationalistico! I'd rather be at a disco than in a sacred catholicon in a divided land, baby etc

Or equivalent sentiments by implication...Don't mention the war etc. If you doubt my word about this Eurovision test, ask yourself: Where are the ladyboys of Tel Aviv this year...hah! P.S. As a novelty extra let's hear you compose some lyrics for all those countries who find themselves at present excluded from this Euromagic.

-- richard pyatt (richard.pyatt@westminster.uk), May 15, 2002

Answers

Apparently if you transalte the British entry into Dutch, the into "Fortyun's Dutch", then into Sanskrit, then back into the original Pete Waterman, it reads -

Oh Ungodless England, I shall take thee all / For I am Boyd / Tommy Boyd / The fat cats sit around / Whilst we do the Boydy Boyd / Eat them / Eat the Boydy Boyd

-- Lynskey (paul@daymaker.freeserve.co.uk), May 15, 2002.

Am I the only one who remembers the acute embarrassment of watching Sweden circa 1972? ("Though your breasts are like swallows in nesting"). I still can't visualise it...

-- Mike Morris At Anthro Ox Ac Uk (mike.morris@anthro.ox.ac.uk), May 16, 2002.

One evening in the spring of 1976 I was cowering in a tacky nightclub on the Costa Brava watching a flamenco-intensive cabaret when the compère broke in with an announcement: ‘The United Kingdom is winning [sic] the Eurovision Song Contest!’ Every member of the audience – including myself – burst into wild cheering and applause.

Whenever I think of it, I die a little.

-- Rex (rex@waitrose.com), May 18, 2002.

Don't blame yourself Rex. During flamenco, even news of the death of a close relative would be greeted as light relief.

An evening's 'entertainment' at the hands of one 'internationally celebrated' flamenco troupe had me sawing at my own jugular with a broken polystyrene cup before the first interval.
The international celebration obviously came as they left that particular country.

If only King Philip had realised: A few screeching women in spotted dresses, each armed with a pair of handleless wooden spoons, and he wouldn't have needed an Armada.

-- Pete Andrews (p.l.andrews@bham.ac.uk), May 20, 2002.