Eurosong part 3
Another Sunday night, another Eurovision preselection (this will go on for quite some time I'm afraid). Duvelman, mascot to many a gay man's gym, the very esteemed sweetie and myself were ready. After some bickering over who was to take notes, we got started with the first Important Fact of the night: André had a cold! We debated over who was to make him hot tea and tuck him into bed, but could not reach an agreement. Perhaps we should just ask The Man himself. We also wondered how much money Johnny Logan got paid for sitting in the Studio 100-studios, listening to average Flemish songs. Anyone an idea?
The introduction of a happily swimming Valerie Mouton awoke every one of our inner bitches: hydrotherapy for the handicapped, Princess Fiona singing "true love's first kiss" and Vickey Pollard were some of Duvelman's finest. The sweetie thought she was wearing an exhibitionist's coat and feared a striptease. However, the girl could sing and silenced even Duvelman who immediately wanted to book her for a jazzy concert at Wallemote Castle in I. Alas, yet again André didn't climax (well, you are feeling sick, dear), so much for Valerie.
The arrival of Kate Ryan on stage drew simultaneous "Oh my god"s from the sweetie and I, scaring Duvelman who hereby had proof we were only one step away from matching tracksuits. She reminded Duvelman of MC Hammer (the mind of the straight man is a strange place) and us of last year's Icelandic entry: Selma. Like Selma Kate was wearing ugly Aladdin pants and had a ridiculous choreography. Like Selma the song was upbeat, queer and Abba, but -like Selma- it won't do anything at Eurovision if there are two other songs like that. Knowing Eurovision, there'll be five other similar songs. The dance routine should be a vote-grabber in Eastern Europe though.
I doubt Kaye Styles ever saw half a second of Eurovision, but there he was, eliciting embarrassing comments from the Leyers Twins (forget everything I said after the first show, they suck) and Bart Peeters who was practically on his knees for him (speaking of which, what happened to Mister Peeters, is he fed up with Eurovision? It seems like it). The song was what experts (DM) would call "poofy R&B, not for Hedz" and proof of this was given when Johnny fell head over heels in love with it. Piglet & Merlina were more enthralled by the dancers' short skirts and wished they'd added bunny-tails and -ears to them. The positive comments of the jury only drew a tiny smile from Mister Styles, thus showing us his inner cool.
(On a more serious note, this may not be my style, but a huge black man with blingbling and a song like this would really stand out at Eurovision)
Axel Devries' wife had us in stitches ("he took me with animals and all") because we're quite simple and adolescent. It would've gotten us twelve points from Holland, but nothing more than that. In fact, the only reason I remember this song was because it was time for our first Peter Evrard-diss of the evening.
The Girlfriend has a huge crush on Laura D, so naturally I have tofancy her a little as well find something bitchy to say about her. She's not as cute as she was. Probably the influence of that boyfriend of her's. There. Once again the backing singers did it for us and more importantly their outfit: white, sleeveless tops, marcellekes. Goodie! The three of us spent the rest of the song fantasising about Laura wrestling with her background singers in a tub of the sweetie's home-made rice pudding. And the song was not so bad either.
Since the Girlfriend and I fell for Natalia's arse the first time we saw her shake it, we're naturally not that keen on Peter Evrard (now Peter Evraaar). His voice just doesn't appeal to me (the man is so nasal he makes me reach for my hanky), and neither does the rest of him. What the hell are you doing in Eurovision? It's camp, it's glitzy, it's commercial, it doesn't take itself seriously, what are you doing there?! For the second time that evening Johnny is blown (away), but everyone on the sofa would have preferred André doing a strip-tease to this horribly boring song.
"I can't believe the news today...", time for Poor Pim. "Poor Pim" because the boy has no talent and everyone keeps reminding him of that -... yet they have offered him jobs and even a record deal... hmz. Perhaps not so "poor" after all... - Anyway, he sucked so badly it was embarrassing to everyone and we suspected Johnny Logan had to have the lyrics translated. Pim reminded us of "Drawn Together"'s Xandir, the young superhero on a neverending quest to save his girlfriend boyfriend. Note the similarities in the picture.
Winner was Kate Ryan. Runners up Kaye Styles and... what struck us most that evening however was the mind-numbingly huge amount of points Peter Evraaaar got. We contemplated suicide, but decided it wasn't worth it. It's just a semi-final, it's not as if we're sending him to Athens, right? Right?
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Another Sunday night, another Eurovision preselection (this will go on for quite some time I'm afraid). Duvelman, mascot to many a gay man's gym, the very esteemed sweetie and myself were ready. After some bickering over who was to take notes, we got started with the first Important Fact of the night: André had a cold! We debated over who was to make him hot tea and tuck him into bed, but could not reach an agreement. Perhaps we should just ask The Man himself. We also wondered how much money Johnny Logan got paid for sitting in the Studio 100-studios, listening to average Flemish songs. Anyone an idea?
The introduction of a happily swimming Valerie Mouton awoke every one of our inner bitches: hydrotherapy for the handicapped, Princess Fiona singing "true love's first kiss" and Vickey Pollard were some of Duvelman's finest. The sweetie thought she was wearing an exhibitionist's coat and feared a striptease. However, the girl could sing and silenced even Duvelman who immediately wanted to book her for a jazzy concert at Wallemote Castle in I. Alas, yet again André didn't climax (well, you are feeling sick, dear), so much for Valerie.
The arrival of Kate Ryan on stage drew simultaneous "Oh my god"s from the sweetie and I, scaring Duvelman who hereby had proof we were only one step away from matching tracksuits. She reminded Duvelman of MC Hammer (the mind of the straight man is a strange place) and us of last year's Icelandic entry: Selma. Like Selma Kate was wearing ugly Aladdin pants and had a ridiculous choreography. Like Selma the song was upbeat, queer and Abba, but -like Selma- it won't do anything at Eurovision if there are two other songs like that. Knowing Eurovision, there'll be five other similar songs. The dance routine should be a vote-grabber in Eastern Europe though.I doubt Kaye Styles ever saw half a second of Eurovision, but there he was, eliciting embarrassing comments from the Leyers Twins (forget everything I said after the first show, they suck) and Bart Peeters who was practically on his knees for him (speaking of which, what happened to Mister Peeters, is he fed up with Eurovision? It seems like it). The song was what experts (DM) would call "poofy R&B, not for Hedz" and proof of this was given when Johnny fell head over heels in love with it. Piglet & Merlina were more enthralled by the dancers' short skirts and wished they'd added bunny-tails and -ears to them. The positive comments of the jury only drew a tiny smile from Mister Styles, thus showing us his inner cool.
(On a more serious note, this may not be my style, but a huge black man with blingbling and a song like this would really stand out at Eurovision)
Axel Devries' wife had us in stitches ("he took me with animals and all") because we're quite simple and adolescent. It would've gotten us twelve points from Holland, but nothing more than that. In fact, the only reason I remember this song was because it was time for our first Peter Evrard-diss of the evening.
The Girlfriend has a huge crush on Laura D, so naturally I have to
Since the Girlfriend and I fell for Natalia's arse the first time we saw her shake it, we're naturally not that keen on Peter Evrard (now Peter Evraaar). His voice just doesn't appeal to me (the man is so nasal he makes me reach for my hanky), and neither does the rest of him. What the hell are you doing in Eurovision? It's camp, it's glitzy, it's commercial, it doesn't take itself seriously, what are you doing there?! For the second time that evening Johnny is blown (away), but everyone on the sofa would have preferred André doing a strip-tease to this horribly boring song.
"I can't believe the news today...", time for Poor Pim. "Poor Pim" because the boy has no talent and everyone keeps reminding him of that -... yet they have offered him jobs and even a record deal... hmz. Perhaps not so "poor" after all... - Anyway, he sucked so badly it was embarrassing to everyone and we suspected Johnny Logan had to have the lyrics translated. Pim reminded us of "Drawn Together"'s Xandir, the young superhero on a neverending quest to save his Winner was Kate Ryan. Runners up Kaye Styles and... what struck us most that evening however was the mind-numbingly huge amount of points Peter Evraaaar got. We contemplated suicide, but decided it wasn't worth it. It's just a semi-final, it's not as if we're sending him to Athens, right? Right?
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