Unadulterated fun. You get warmed up in the queue, allocated a country badge, there’s a warm-up girl as the audience files in and a Terry Wogan introduction ‘it may be rubbish but it’s my pension’. Then it’s off, a piss-take of the Eurovision Song Contest, with opening ceremony, ten countries, cheesy male and female comperes and songs that are so bad they could easy qualify for the real thing.
The UK entry had two ‘chavs’ perform ‘I love to love you’ outdoing Scootch. Iceland, a bitter Bjorg-like singer wailing and haranguing the audience. Italy, an operatic opening that descended into a trite pop chorus. Hungary a little bird song compete with folkloric handkerchief dances. Greece had Persephone, scantily dressed women who aroused the male compeer. Germany had a minimalist post-modern, technopop tune with a push button bell, pulling the leg from a cat and popping a balloon. Ireland won with a fantastic ballad called ‘Larrdi, larrdi, larrdi-la’. I had tears flowing down my cheeks at the old gag of dry ice completely enveloping the performer. The audience cheered, clapped and laughed for every second of the show.