I've Got Butterflies ...

Saturday was Eurovision; not much of a milestone in many people’s books, I know, but for me it marks a significant event – a full year of blogging (or offering my unsolicited and unqualified views on a variety of subjects).  I really can’t believe a full year has flown by since I first began tapping away on the keyboard, anxious to share my opinions with whoever might be out there and at something of a loose end.

So as it’s Eurovision time again, I thought I’d best mention it.  Regrettably, last year saw the pure unadulterated lunacy and silliness – that is, the fun part that made the whole thing worth watching – pretty much vanish, and this year’s offering was as bland as a speech by David Cameron.  Sadly, all countries are now taking the contest seriously, and getting proper artists to perform songs written by musicians (or in our case, Pete Waterman).  Many of the nationalistic characteristics have disappeared, along with the silly outfits, gormless and gawky presenters who have never been in front of a camera before plus, of course, the contestants themselves – many of whom often resembled a very drunk bunch of students at an international karaoke event.  Now it’s a couple of hours of bland Euro-pop or Euro-ballads.  That’s your choice.  Indeed the only charismatic act last night turned out to be a gate crasher who jumped onto the stage during the Spanish entry and performed a bit of a routine – although to be fair, I thought he was part of the act.

Spot the imposter.  It took me a while, and I was there.

The voting system caused a bit of an outcry.  This year, the phone lines opened before even the first, let alone all, of the acts had performed.  It meant that you could vote for an act you hadn’t seen, several hours before they even thought about going on stage.  Commentators made much of this, but hang on – it’s a very British way of doing things.  After all, haven’t we just voted in a General Election with a choice of three parties – not one of whom would actually tell us what they intended to do given power to govern?  

The end result (of Eurovision, not our election) went to Germany, for the first time in – well, a long time.  A very pretty girl-next-door 19-year-old student called Lena performed an instantly forgettable ditty and cleaned up with it.  Nevertheless, she was utterly charming when she won; totally blown away and genuinely in shock.  My favourite line in the show came at the end when Lena was told that she now had to reprise her song.  “You mean I have to sing?  Again?” she gasped.  I got the impression that all she wanted to do was get down to Oslo’s equivalent of the Bigg Market.

The only old-style pure Eurovision moment came during the Belarussian entry.  The song itself was a ballad called Butterflies, quite well written as it happens – the sort of thing Michael Ball would sing.  It was performed by a group of 3 girls and 2 boys going by the highly imaginative name of ‘3+2’.  Clearly the sort of name dreamed up in panic over a few WKD’s at an Oslo bar the night before the contest.  Fortunately considerably more thought went into the costumes.  After considerable searching on your behalf – and believe me, it took some finding – I’ve found a video of the song as performed on the night.  YouTube and the official Eurovision website are putting out a totally different studio version that is highly polished and professional.  Ignore it.  Belarus is a very individualistic and quirky nation - I know, I had an amazing week in Minsk in 2008.  Truly, there is nowhere else like it on the planet.  Indeed, if I may divert your attention for a moment, yours truly wrote a book about it which is available on Amazon.    Therefore, when I realised that Belarus had finally got themselves into Eurovision, I was hoping that they would do something off-the-wall and unique that would remind me about the place and its inhabitants.  Well, they didn't let me down.  Like many things Belarussian, it starts off quite normally and goes into la-la land two-thirds of the way through.  The moment is quite unexpected and if it doesn't brighten up your day then nothing will.  It’s only four minutes of your life that you won’t get back, so not that much of a hardship, really.  But if I’m asking too much, then read on below.  I’ll understand.

When the song begins, the five of them are attired in evening dress, and very smart they look too.  At the obligatory key-change two thirds of the way through, the three girls suddenly sprouted huge butterfly wings from behind their dresses, but rather than majestically glide out like wings, they popped out at high speed with an uneven jerk that put me in mind of Thunderbirds.  Graham Norton summed it up with his comment beforehand – “These girls wear dresses that every 8-year-old girl in the country will be putting on their Christmas list.”

Belarus came second last in the results, beating only – guess who – into bottom of the pile.  Yes, that’s right – Great Britain.  Us.  The bloke who performed our lamentable pop blancmange put in a creditable performance, but coating a turd with sugar don’t make it a doughnut.

I can’t add anything to that, so I won’t.