Is There Anything More Camp Than Eurovision?

I have never really appreciated ‘camp’. Graham Norton sets my teeth on edge. But there is something wonderfully over the top about the Eurovision Song Contest — especially when one sees it at a Eurovision party, as I did with Lewisham Liberal Democrats this year. We all drew lots (at a pound a ticket) to see which country we would represent. I got the hosts, Serbia, which was never going to manage to replicate the butch originality of last year’s female effort — and didn’t. Moreover, the two smarmy presenters in Belgrade were pretty cringe-worthy. One or two of the songs were actually rather good, not least Ukraine’s, and Russia was a justifiable winner. Bosnia and Herzogovina entered into the crazy spirit of things. Spain was simply embarrassing. The guy in Stockholm announcing the Swedish votes seemed to be out of his head.

For some time now, in the UK, Terry Wogan’s commentary has been part of the carnival. He was as wry (and sometimes outright bitchy) as ever, though by the end he was souding weary, and genuinely miffed that the British entry came joint bottom (though at least without the indignity of ‘nul points’). It’s true, as he said, that voting goes along political and geographical lines these days, though actually most of the top places were won by reasonable numbers. If Wogan retires, I suppose we might end up with Graham Norton next year. Will that be more than I can bear?

 

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