1 May 1997 Edition
Television: Everyone a loser
By Michael Kennedy
Republicans all over Ireland are already at fever pitch in anticipation of our nation's annual triumph at the highest peak of culture, the Eurovision Song Contest. Because of its importance, and because it is cheaper and far safer than cider or magic mushrooms, readers are encouraged to tune in this Saturday evening.
And because we at An Phoblacht value and care for you, the reader, above all else, we have provided you with this handy couch-side guide to the festival of excellence, culled from a careful viewing of RTE's Eurovision Previews (Saturday, 6.30pm). True, the first half of the songs were screened the previous week, but the winner will come from one of the entrants below.
Malta: Let Me Fly, sung by Debbie. Great video, lots of fire. Let's hope they try some of those pyro effects during the live show. Watch out for Debbie's intelligent use of a giant harp as a clothes hanger for a dress she's still actually wearing. Also, check out the hairy-chested beast on the bongo drums with whom she's apparently in love.
Hungary: Why Do You Have To Go? Sung by VIP. Spotty-faced version of Boyzone who were on course to win by a mile until their vocal cords were slashed by goons sent by a Budapest porno king whose unpaid account the lads foolishly let slide. Possibly the most cringingly embarrassing entry of the lot.
France: Dream Feelings, sung by Fanny (I am not making this up). Fanny has gone for the whinging student look. A truly awful song which could snatch the annual Nulle Points Award from under the noses of the Hungarian lads.
Portugal: Before The Goodbye, sung by Celia. The best thing about this song is the evil-sounding male backing group, constantly muttering and mumbling in the background. What they are actually saying translates literally as: ``You people are sick in the head. We will poison your water supply and then it will be too late.''
Greece: Dance, sung by Marianna. Cool; shepherd boys with out-of-tune stringed instruments. The song was chosen by Greek TV to eliminate absolutely the possibility of having to host the show next year. The singer, a raven-haired temptress, won the Mediterranean heats for the Rose of Tralee in 1973.
Russia: Prima Donna, sung by Alla, a Russian vamp with prominent teeth and a penchant for ridiculous hats who bribed her way into the contest. The song is taken from a 1970s musical about a girl who works a 12-hour day in the coalmines but trains at night to be a ballerina, but just as she's about to be a prima donna at the Bolshoi for the first time she's attacked by a Workers' Party punishment squad who break her legs.
Croatia: Wake Me Up, sung by ENI. The IRA Army Council voted 7 to 1 in favour of these, the Croatian Spice Girls, winning this year. The song is great and the four young ones do a lot of lepping about. Watch them and weep.
Bosnia: Goodbye, sung by Alma. Watch for the first ever robot to be allowed to play the guitar, also the backup singer with no chin. Alma likes to hug herself a lot, and should win the special prize for the greatest number of inappropriate hand gestures.
Sweden: She Only Loves Me, song by Blond. Here we have three 6 foot blond Swedish men with ponytails, all wearing black, singing Euroschlock circa 1985 and doing the most ludicrously effeminate, choreographed dances. They can't sing, so they should really go the whole hog and go onstage in PVC underwear and just mine `YMCA'.
Denmark: Voice Of My Life, sung by Thomas, a computer nerd wearing an ice-hockey jumper. Maybe Danish rap will scoop it all this year, maybe not. Probably manufactured in the same Scandinavian factory as the three Swedish boys, the Danish entry is accompanied by three 6 foot blonde women with 0 percent body fat.
Britain: Love Shine A Light, sung by Katrina and the Waves. The saddest thing of all is that the Brits desperately want to win this contest. But this year, the entry is so bad that the civilised nations won't even have to conspire as usual to deny them. Sort of happy-clappy jingle for a new soap powder stretched out to three minutes. I suppose we could let them win for a joke, but they probably wouldn't get it.
Iceland: My Final Dance, sung by Paul. The best video of all, it involves Paul wearing more make-up than the Avon lady, dripping jewellery, and kissing himself in a mirror. Not even the four (more) blonde pod-girls prancing about can distract from the awfulness of the song.
Republicans all over Ireland are already at fever pitch in anticipation of our nation's annual triumph at the highest peak of culture, the Eurovision Song Contest. Because of its importance, and because it is cheaper and far safer than cider or magic mushrooms, readers are encouraged to tune in this Saturday evening.
And because we at An Phoblacht value and care for you, the reader, above all else, we have provided you with this handy couch-side guide to the festival of excellence, culled from a careful viewing of RTE's Eurovision Previews (Saturday, 6.30pm). True, the first half of the songs were screened the previous week, but the winner will come from one of the entrants below.
Malta: Let Me Fly, sung by Debbie. Great video, lots of fire. Let's hope they try some of those pyro effects during the live show. Watch out for Debbie's intelligent use of a giant harp as a clothes hanger for a dress she's still actually wearing. Also, check out the hairy-chested beast on the bongo drums with whom she's apparently in love.
Hungary: Why Do You Have To Go? Sung by VIP. Spotty-faced version of Boyzone who were on course to win by a mile until their vocal cords were slashed by goons sent by a Budapest porno king whose unpaid account the lads foolishly let slide. Possibly the most cringingly embarrassing entry of the lot.
France: Dream Feelings, sung by Fanny (I am not making this up). Fanny has gone for the whinging student look. A truly awful song which could snatch the annual Nulle Points Award from under the noses of the Hungarian lads.
Portugal: Before The Goodbye, sung by Celia. The best thing about this song is the evil-sounding male backing group, constantly muttering and mumbling in the background. What they are actually saying translates literally as: ``You people are sick in the head. We will poison your water supply and then it will be too late.''
Greece: Dance, sung by Marianna. Cool; shepherd boys with out-of-tune stringed instruments. The song was chosen by Greek TV to eliminate absolutely the possibility of having to host the show next year. The singer, a raven-haired temptress, won the Mediterranean heats for the Rose of Tralee in 1973.
Russia: Prima Donna, sung by Alla, a Russian vamp with prominent teeth and a penchant for ridiculous hats who bribed her way into the contest. The song is taken from a 1970s musical about a girl who works a 12-hour day in the coalmines but trains at night to be a ballerina, but just as she's about to be a prima donna at the Bolshoi for the first time she's attacked by a Workers' Party punishment squad who break her legs.
Croatia: Wake Me Up, sung by ENI. The IRA Army Council voted 7 to 1 in favour of these, the Croatian Spice Girls, winning this year. The song is great and the four young ones do a lot of lepping about. Watch them and weep.
Bosnia: Goodbye, sung by Alma. Watch for the first ever robot to be allowed to play the guitar, also the backup singer with no chin. Alma likes to hug herself a lot, and should win the special prize for the greatest number of inappropriate hand gestures.
Sweden: She Only Loves Me, song by Blond. Here we have three 6 foot blond Swedish men with ponytails, all wearing black, singing Euroschlock circa 1985 and doing the most ludicrously effeminate, choreographed dances. They can't sing, so they should really go the whole hog and go onstage in PVC underwear and just mine `YMCA'.
Denmark: Voice Of My Life, sung by Thomas, a computer nerd wearing an ice-hockey jumper. Maybe Danish rap will scoop it all this year, maybe not. Probably manufactured in the same Scandinavian factory as the three Swedish boys, the Danish entry is accompanied by three 6 foot blonde women with 0 percent body fat.
Britain: Love Shine A Light, sung by Katrina and the Waves. The saddest thing of all is that the Brits desperately want to win this contest. But this year, the entry is so bad that the civilised nations won't even have to conspire as usual to deny them. Sort of happy-clappy jingle for a new soap powder stretched out to three minutes. I suppose we could let them win for a joke, but they probably wouldn't get it.
Iceland: My Final Dance, sung by Paul. The best video of all, it involves Paul wearing more make-up than the Avon lady, dripping jewellery, and kissing himself in a mirror. Not even the four (more) blonde pod-girls prancing about can distract from the awfulness of the song.