Lazer Guided Melody’s Eurovision Live Blog

Lazer Guided Melody’s first ever (and hopefully final) Eurovision Live Blog. Grew rather drunk at the end… 

7:45… Oh dear. When drunk I stupidly agreed to this whole live blog thing – colour me regretful and set phasers to sarcasm. 3+ hours of vague national stereotyping, god-awful tunes, strange looking people dressed as if it’s the opening scene of an ’80′s porn film – and that’s just the presenters.

Because let’s be honest – it’s utter crap, isn’t it? Eurovision’s relationship with music is akin to that between zebras and the more esoteric elements of molecular physics. We’ve all seen zebras in lab coats chalking complex equations onto the blackboard, but it’s hardly something they’d engage in if they weren’t being forced to do so at gunpoint.

Seriously, we do we watch the damn thing?

Oh well, at least we have seventeen cans of lager and an extra large bottle of Martell VS Cognac to keep us company, should the pace slacken and our focus nudges towards drunken misanthropy… 

7:48… A couple of things to confess before the titles roll and Graham Norton begins his camp guy trapped in a cupboard routine. No, I didn’t watch the semi-finals. Probably because I have a life. And no, I haven’t heard any of the entries that made it to the final (or fell at the final fence). All I know is that the UK’s entry is performed by someone aged 148 in a fright mask – I’m sure it’ll be an instant classic. 

7:49… And the other mentionable; tonight’s freak show is coming live from Baku, where everything may not be all fluffy bunnies and universal suffrage. But Azerbaijan is a member of the European Broadcasting Union, so that’s all right then.   

7:51… Actually, I hope that they use those thirty second intros to each song – the bit that’s geared to showing each host nation in its best light – to feature footage of forced evictions and goon squads putting the boot in. 

7:55… Englebert Humperdinck. Unfortunately not the nineteenth century German composer, but the wobbly pensioner from Leicester. He’s performing for the UK tonight. I fear he’ll do it resembling the monster from a cheap ’70′s horror film – the type where there’s guaranteed to be gratuitous nudity and special effects to scoff at. 

7:56… Right, ciggie break. Joining me? 

8:01… And the fuck begins. Expect to see an increasing number of typos as the evening plays out and I grow rapidly quite drunk. 

8:03… Already this is like watching the “entertainment” at a holiday camp in 1984. Or perhaps something they serve up on cruise ships in between waiting for the passengers to die. 

8:06…So far there’s lots of dancing. It’s like Riverdance, but performed in a snuff film. In other news, the number three key on this keyboard has stopped working. I’ll make sure to take a minute off every ten.

8:08… Next, it’s the winning entry from last year. Bizarrely unmemorable. I know that alcohol diminishes both short and long-term memory, but having watched last year’s contest (research, you know), it still feels like the first time I’ve ever heard it. 

8:10… Two ladies and a strange looking chap are presenting the show tonight. I liked it better when it used to be presented by one lady and some sleazy older gentleman who looked on the verge of whipping the little fella out… 

8:11… Important news: telephone lines aren’t open yet, so don’t vote. As if we would… 

8:13… Right, here staggers Englebert to start proceedings. It’s the type of song Lee Hazlewood would have refused to wipe his arse on. 

8:16… And that’s it over. A performance reminiscent of a drunk pensioner singing karaoke in the pub. 

8:18… Hungary: hoping for votes from Roxette fans, I take it. 

8:20… Next year, I hope that Eurovision is a straight shoot-out between the UK and Hungary. Would make live blogging it far less depressing.

8:22… Wow. The first fashion WTF of the night. The Albanian singer is wearing a cross between medieval oopsies and a frock from The Fifth Element. Where can one buy something similar? 

8:25…Three songs in, and I already hate Eurovision. Lots of aerial shots of Baku. No forced beatings. 

8:26…Lithuania. Man sings with blindfold on. My guess is that if you want to win, you’ll need a better gimmick than that. And a song that isn’t utter sub-’80′s dance shit. 

8:30… Song 5. Bosnia. The most pertinent thing about this lady at piano is her shoulder pads. Must be such a let down if you had $10 on Bosnia winning and all you can recall are the shoulder pads. 

8:33…And now it’s granny time. Russia. Painful, painful, painful. I fancy the one on the right.

As I mentioned earlier, it’s all about the gimmick. Next year I understand that Portugal are going to have a bear and a tiger perform. 

8:35… I’m sure one of those grannies was Boris Yeltzin. 

8:37… YES! The Jesus And Mary Chain are performing the Icelandic entry…

… in my head.

8:41… I don’t smoke in my apartment – only outside. This makes blogging a live event logistically trying. I’m yet to hear the new Go-Kart Mozart album, but understand it’s very good indeed. And in Baku, not one of the songs has lodged in my cranium. The Cyprus lady should stick to modelling. 

8:42… Scratch that. The Cyprus lady should stick to lapdancing. 

8:45…Did I just catch Graham Norton being homo-erotic? Of all the people…

France’s entry is not written or performed by Serge Gainsbourg, and is thus not worth further comment. 

8:49…I’m drinking Tyskie tonight. Can’t recall if Poland made it to the final, but if they did, I hope I’m not so drunk that the nationality of said beer is going to make me biased. Italy’s entry looks and feels like Paloma Faith enacted by a cartoon in a drag queen frock. 

8:52… Graham Norton wants us to send in pictures of our Eurovision parties. I’m drunk, naked, and typing furiously at the laptop in between scratching my balls. Shall I submit a photo?

8:54… Dear Lush. Can you reform, act like it’s 1989 again, pretend you’re Estonian, and enter Eurovision? Lots of love, LGM x 

8:57… Little known fact: the guys who wrote Norway’s entry in the 2012 Eurovision Song Contest did so whilst smoking crack cocaine. Allegedly. 

8:58… The official LGM wife has confessed that the dancing behind Norway’s song scares her. Arouses me, but opposites attract I guess. 

8:59… Englebert can dance like that. 

9:01… 12 songs in, so now we get the tour of the green room. In the foreground, Englebert is having a blood transfusion whilst in the background, the Lithuanian and Icelandic entries are having sex. 

9:04… Is the Azerbaijan entry an advert for having sex with swans whilst smoking crystal meth and listening to records by ’80′s songstress Sam Brown?  

9:08…Romania’s next. I’m an intelligent chap, I hope. Studied literature at university. High ranking job. Large penis. So what the fuck am I doing commenting on shite like this? I’m going for a cigarette and a quick listen to My Bloody Valentine… 

9:12… Only in Denmark could you think an Alanis Morriseete pastiche a good idea. There’s a party in the flat next door, and I’m growing sorely tempted to pop round…   

9:15… The Greek entry. Insert your own joke here. And if you can’t be bothered, Norton’s already done it for you. Anyone else spot the singer’s bum note in the first verse, by the way? 

9:20… Sweden. Apparently the bookmaker’s favourite. My gran didn’t grow up on the same street as the Swedish teenager currently doing her Kate Bush at a gay club impression. But she did grow up on the same street as Englebert Humperdinck. My gran also looks more human than Englebert Humperdinck.

9:24… MAKE THIS FUCKING THING GO AWAY. Elsewhere, the lovely LGM wife has pre-empted at least four of Graham Norton’s jokes, and Turkey’s entry is giving me the fear. Nice anchors though. 

9:29… España is song 19. Out of 26. Then we have the intermission, then the voting. Then I’m going to smash the modem and hurl the TV out of the window (I’ll just tell the insurance company that it’s ok, I’m in Led Zeppelin). There is a Spanish lady singing an earnest song wrapped in a shroud. It’s not doing a hell of a lot for me, to be honest. 

9:33… Why is the below in bold? Am I that drunk I’ve lost the formatting gene? Germany’s entry is pure boy band in a hat. It is not giving me the horn. 

9:35… I think I’ve fixed the formatting of 9:29′s entry. Phew. 

9:37…Malta. Awful 1990′s club anthem wibble. Ireland next. I like to think that I’m pretty good with words, but they totally fail me when it comes to perennial Irish entry/fucktards Jedward – those chaps who altruistically redefined what the fuck? for us all. It’s like ‘My Lovely Horse’ from Father Ted – I take it Ireland are too skint to put the show on next year. Or ever. 

9:40… GRAHAM NORTON LIED TO ME. It’s Macedonia first. It’s almost as if I had the Jedward words pre-written, and copy/pasted too eagerly. Incidentally, Macedonia’s entry is giving me heartburn. 

9:44… OK, now it’s Jedward. A species all of their own. I like to think that the water feature illustrating this song is former Eurovision winner and right-wing politician Dana, and her famed golden shower. 

9:47… Anyone recommend any decent new releases? That new record that gripped you by the soul? I’m feeling a bit queasy. And tainted. 

9:51… Intervision, Communist Eastern Europe’s own version of Eurovision, was so much better than this. One day I’ll swear that I’ve never heard this year’s Serbian entry. A heady cocktail of the bland and the awful. 

9:53… I think there’s only two songs left to suffer (although the double vision is kicking in, so I can’t be sure). And then there’s Ukraine entry, which I danced to in a dodgy provincial nightclub when I was 16. 

9:58… Thank fuck, the final track. Moldova. I’m phoning in my vote for them, purely for climaxing this insidious fuckfest. Although I still have to liveblog the intermission acts (always awful), and the voting (always predictable – I’m going to guess the scores from certain countries even before they’re given). 

10:00… Best song?

1. Belgium

2. Austria

Or maybe: Papua New Guinea

START VOTING NOW!

10:03… Cigarette time. I deserve a break. Plus the laptop is nowhere near the fridge. Don’t the kids say BRB? 

10:09… Just so you know: if I had to pick my favourite song, my vote would go to France. Alas my telephone is in the other room, and I’d probably fall over before I got to it. 

10:12… Currently on the TV: five second reprises of each song. Just in case you didn’t sit there with a spreadsheet, calibrating the virtues of each note of hideousness. 

10:14… The LGM wife likes Italy’s entry the best. I can’t for the life of me recall it, so I’ll just assume it’s as fantastic as ‘Tomorrow’ by Morrissey. 

10:16…OK, stop voting, people. Oh, I already had. 

10:20… And now we’re into the segment of the evening where I struggle to type correctly, and the Azerbaijan establishment get to promote their slightly dodgy and nepotistic nation with the equivalent of the Superbowl’s Half Time Show. No Madonna… instead a man in a John Travolta mask fellates a goat. 

10:22… There is a man singing an utterly forgettable Europop song. Whilst dancers dance. Bored now. 

10:29… What’s life coming to? When I gain more succour to replying to Twitter conversations and listening to the idiots next door sing along to Tina Turner than liveblogging Eurovision. Still, votes are ready round about now. Woo.

10:30… Some foreign, far-off countries voted for each other. I grab another beer.  

10:33… The issue with attempting to pre-judge voting patterns is that it takes time to type, then publish any prediction. So I’ll just predict that any nation next door to another might just vote in an essentially predictable pattern. 

10:35… Only one vote for Englebert so far. He’ll eat your soul, you know. 

10:37… Sweden is winning. Lovely country, great cities, expensive alcohol, utterly forgettable Eurovision entries. 

10:40… France gives 12 points to The Velvet Underground. Still don’t think they’ll win. 

10:42… Then the UK vote arrives. 12 points to Sweden. The Swedish lady is a wee bit attractive, in a jailbait kinda fashion. Not my type, but the type of the British jury. 

10:46… The Greek electorate votes for Cyprus. For the 40th year running. I genuinely don’t care who’s winning. One day I’ll let slip that I lost my virginity to the mother of the bass player of a well-known band. Not today though. 

10:50… All over Europe, faces are dishing out scores to songs few music fans give a fuck about. Englebert has the solitary point. He’ll be eating the brains of the Turkish entry in five minutes. 

10:56… A quick trip to the green room, where all the contestants are engaged in some kind of fetishistic orgy. Sweden have won (unless the next 12 votes are all for the Canadian entry). Elsewhere, Mrs LGM says something, and Graham Norton says the same thing five seconds later. I’m thinking the apartment is bugged. 

10:59… The UK are now last. I’m either gutted, or..like… whatever. 

11:03… Yes! I guessed which county Norway would gift 12 points to. Alas I’m far to slow to type + publish the word ‘Sweden’. Oh well. 

11:04… I am never, ever live blogging an event ever again. Sweden well ahead of Serbia, then Russia… if that means anything to you. 

11:08… The dumb shock-rock Finnish clown that won the competition about six years ago is announcing the Finnish vote (shock, horror, it’s Sweden). I’ve never felt less horny. 

11:11… Jesus, I’m drunk. Typing every word requires so much attention. And the funny thing is not one of the songs I’ve apparently blogged about tonight do that memory retention thing. Have Stereolab won yet? 

11:18… Graham Norton informs us that it’s a convincing win for Sweden. And what have we learnt? That we should spend our Saturday nights in May doing something better. 

11:21… And that’s your lot. Forgettable isn’t the word for it. And if you take my advice for it: never ever liveblog a stupid event that lasts for hours and hours. Many thanks for reading.