With just a single result left to be declared, the European Broadcasting Union (EBU) wobbled upon the precipice of its biggest nightmare. Israel was leading the 70th Eurovision Song Contest, meaning that the 2027 iteration would have to be hosted there. It’s not too great a stretch of the imagination to suggest that this would have meant the competition meeting its non-ABBA Waterloo, given that five countries, including mega winners Ireland, boycotted this year’s knees up due to Israel’s participation.
Yet a whopping last haul of votes for Bulgaria and Dara’s infectiously catchy Bangaranga, a pulsing dance anthem with ample infusions of its almost namesake bhangra, meant that the jamboree will instead head to unexceptionable Sofia and Eurovision will live to fight another day.
Which gig has proved tougher this week: being the UK’s Prime Minister or its Eurovision entrant? It makes for a fiendishly close call of thankless tasks. Sam Battle, AKA Look Mum No Computer, a mad professor in a pink jumpsuit surrounded by dancers wearing furry green computer screens for heads, did at least achieve what Keir Starmer can only dream of by making it to the heart of Europe. His lamentable song with a German title, “Eins Zwei Drei”, written on a synthesizer in his garage, finished in joint last place (with hosts Austria) at the end of the jury vote, before an ignominious eventual progression to sole last place.
Dara performing the song “Bangaranga” during the Grand Final of the 70th Eurovision Song Contest in Vienna (Photo: Martin Meissner/AP)The UK’s dismal recent run continues, although I still haven’t forgiven the Eurovision family for last year’s shameful disregard for Remember Monday with the fine “What the Hell Just Happened”. Here’s an idea: why doesn’t Andy Burnham represent us in Bulgaria next year? He’s currently the answer to everything, and those skimpy running shorts he loves to be photographed in would certainly be the perfect costume.
Elsewhere, the party in Vienna provided the usual assortment of fetish wear and traditional national dress, plus the Greek entrant dressed as a cat in fluffy orange wellies. There was controversy over Romania’s song “Choke Me”, which the performers insisted was about mental health demons rather than sexual aggression, yet given the repeated refrain of “I want you to choke me”, this was certainly open to question.
For television viewers, the treat of the night was once again Graham Norton’s cherishably droll commentary to sustain us when spirits were flagging. He got off to a fine start by remarking that the two Austrian hosts had the “opposite of chemistry – woodwork, perhaps?” Later, after a particularly “choice” Eurosong, he served the salutary reminder that the number had made it through the semi-finals, while others hadn’t. The mind boggled, as all my critical faculties gradually but inexorably ebbed away.
Although I surely can’t have been alone in hoping that Australia would win, for the pleasure of watching the European Broadcasting Union decide how to manage that one.
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