And now we are done. Sincerest congratulations to Sweden, and commiserations to all the other contestants, uniformly doomed as they are to become embedded YouTube clips in endless ‘What the hell was all that about’ Eurovision precursor articles a decade from now.
Now, while we go through our own individual post-Eurovision decompression routines – I don’t know about you, but mine involves putting my head into a metal bin and shouting ‘WHY?’ over and over again until I tumble into the comforting arms of unconsciousness – it’s time for me to thank you. Whoever you are, wherever you come from, I appreciate you hanging out with me this evening. If you want to follow me on Twitter, I’m @StuHeritage, but it’s not like I’m going to cry myself to sleep if you don’t. Goodnight, thank you, and let’s all go and hang out in Sweden next year.
Time for one last congratulatory performance from Sweden now. Usually I’d skip this bit, but I’m sort of hoping that the cartoon (who I’ve really taken against) ends up choking on some confetti.
Now all that’s left for Sweden to do is go backstage with a strong coffee and a bucket of cold water to rouse its animated little boozehound from its stupor. It has to perform now. This is a big moment for it.
So Sweden, which holds a long public consultation about its Eurovision act, is the winner of the 2015 Eurovision Song Contest. The UK, which let one bloke choose its song behind everyones’ back, is not. In short, I’d quite like someone from Sweden to adopt me please.
Oh, guys, I just realised that the Swedish guy is wearing leather trousers. This has been a horrible mistake. Quick, let’s do a recount.
But here is AUSTRALIA again:
‘Look at those pants!’ was also the Aussie room’s reaction to Sweden’s victory but really, well done, Sweden, you deserved our douze points. You’re Eurovision royalty ... and we are, well, we’re paid-for guests if we’re honest.
So while top five finish isn’t Australia’s usual sporting result, we’ll take it.
Guy, you did us proud. And now, as our charmingly accented Viennese hosts put it: good night Europe and good morning Australia. We’re off to get a decent coffee and some avo-on-toast in the sun. Cos that’s how we roll on a Sunday morning in Sydney. Jealous much, Europe?
Updated
GEORGIA is the final country to give its votes. Austria and Germany end the contest with nul points, which is tremendously embarrassing. It’ll be interesting to see what happens tomorrow. On the plus side, I’ll never have to hear that sodding Birdseye Potato Waffle advert song again.
Fun fact: the Estonian woman made her necklace by hunting, killing and skinning six of those things from Avatar.
Oh, wait, and it also means that I don’t win my £800. Hey, screw you Sweden (and by extension the rest of Europe and Australia).
A COUNTRY HAS WON
And that country is Sweden! This means that I’m off to Sweden next year! And it means that next year’s competition will be full of annoying little cartoons! And it means that we’re about 20 years away from a VH1 Behind The Music show about the bitter fallout between the human singer and his alcoholic little pal!
Sweden have pretty much got everyone licked now. It’ll take a miracle for them not to win now. Hooray for little animated drunks!
Three points for the UK from San Marino. We’re now beating France. And Germany. And Austria. There’s a lesson here. I think that lesson is ‘Don’t be crap at Eurovision’.
RUSSIA is getting booed a bit. Which isn’t really very good-natured of the crowd, but at least it’s fun watching the hosts try to stop themselves from wading into the audience and whacking them over the heads with her shoes.
Still no points for Austria. The moral of the evening is that, if you invite people to perform in your country, don’t make them twat about with fire.
Ten more countries to go, and it’s looking good for the Swedish guy and his alcoholic cartoon friend.
Sweden looks as if it might be extending its lead a little now. Hey, Swedish people! Invite me to your home next year! Unless you live in Russia, obviously, because that would be weird and counterproductive.
NO BEARD, NIGELLA. But possibly the biggest cheer of the night. Hooray for Nigella. And she’s single-handedly wrestled the lead away from Russia and given it back to Sweden. And she spoke most of the languages in the world. Still, a job well done, even if it means that I have to Pritt-Stick the hair onto my back now.
NIGELLA!
SOME OTHER COUNTRY NOW. God, I don’t care any more. Why isn’t this finished? How did I end up doing this tonight? Why didn’t Graham Norton say my name on the telly? Why is everything going so wrong in my life?
FYR MACEDONIA just tried singing Happy Birthday to Eurovision. Note to Nigella: do not try singing Happy Birthday to Eurovision.
AUSTRIA votes. Russia is now 15 points ahead. We’re all going to Russia next year! Anyone? Hello?
AUSTRALIA GOES OFF ON AN UNNECESSARY TANGENT
Don’t be sour grapes, Stu. Why not enjoy this video of the Australian points presenter, Lee Lin Chin (one of our finest newsreaders) doing battle, Anchorman style, with the rest of the Aussie media?
CZECH REPUBLIC looks nice. In other news, we’re doing terribly at this, and so are all the other countries who didn’t take part in the semi-finals this year. Let’s do the semis next year, shall we? And also, you know, not enter a song that sounds like jazzy dental surgery.
And now Other Host is talking to Sweden, who seems like a charming man. His cartoon friend is nowhere to be seen, though. Can’t think why *bottle-swig mime*.
Now Conchita’s backstage, sucking up to Russia because it looks like she’ll probably have to go there next year.
And now AUSTRALIA gives their votes. Nothing for us. Nothing for Austria. Stupid Latvia, though, stealing my money by not winning. That’s how betting works, isn’t it? I’m not an expert.
AUSTRALIA WRITES AGAIN
Full marks to Denmark and Switzerland for saying hello to us so nicely here in Aus - and also for giving us eight points apiece. It’s at this point, with Australia already at a healthy place in the tables, that we’d also like to lay claim to a part of Russia’s potential winning success ... A Million Voices was co-written by Katrina Noorbergen, an Aussie songwriter who, in the best tradition of our young people, has relocated to Europe.
Updated
GERMANY now, presented by one of Brian Blessed from Flash Gordon’s amputated limbs. Russia’s walking away with this, I think.
SWEDEN now, hosted by the letter V. Still no points for Austria. This is fun. Well, not fun. It’s a thing that happened. Look, I don’t exactly have a lot to work with here.
IRELAND now. A huge cheer for them, because Ireland’s had a much better day than anyone else in Europe. We get a point from them. Two points! Woo! And 12 for LATVIA. Ireland, you never let me down.
ARMENIA! Presented by a woman who appears to be farting water. She comes on, tells the hosts how pretty they are and just stands around in silence waiting for the compliment to be reciprocated. Her Eurovision game is strong.
BELGIUM. No points for France or Germany either, but it’s tightening up between Russia and Sweden. In other news, I’ve run out of Haribo. Guys, I’m fading.
SWITZERLAND now, and a woman who is literally dressed as a chandelier. Australia are fourth now. The UK is not.
Still no points for Poland, Germany or France. Or Austria, which is going to be pretty embarrassing for them.
ESTONIA says hello. And then runs away, just as Portugal did. They’d better hold the line for Nigella. I didn’t shave my armpits for nothing.
I wish I’d bothered to learn the names of the hosts this year. Just calling them The Host make me sound like a parasite. Which, you know, as a journalist I clearly am, but there’s no need to make it explicit.
The host, having read my last update, has told me off for dissing Russia. Fine, I’ll go to Russia next year. Jeez.
LATVIA now, presented by the world’s creepiest Butlins employee. Russia’s creeping into the lead here. Usually at this point I start casting around for people I know who’ll let me sleep in their house during next year’s contest. This year, perhaps not.
AZERBAIJAN! The guy seems slightly appalled by his own people, because they gave points to Italy. Not another Azerbaijan/Italy war, please. I couldn’t stand it.
Here’s MOLDOVA, being hugely underdressed outside The Louvre. No points for France or Germany so far, I see.
ALBANIA’s host is dressed as a high-vis Cbeebies presenter. Why’s he high-vis? I don’t know. Perhaps he works on the docks. I don’t have all the answers. Stop assuming that I do.
Australia is fifth at the moment, by the way. I can’t work out if that’s a good thing or not.
ROMANIA has given points to Latvia. But not to the UK. Right now, the winner will definitely be either Sweden, Italy or Russia. The guy from BELARUS, meanwhile, is literally standing in the middle of the road.
GREECE now. Did this woman sing at Eurovision too? In 2005? Oh, I don’t care. Italy and Sweden are still way out in front. The UK has one point. Let’s call it a pity point.
Now for FINLAND. Fun fact, I sometimes teach liveblogging, and I use this woman’s 2013 Eurovision performance as an example of stuff that’s really hard to liveblog. Actually, that wasn’t a fun fact at all, was it? It was barely even a fact. I’m sorry.
Now for MALTA. They’ve given us one point and Latvia four points. Italy get 12, and go into the lead. Nigella had better be wearing that beard.
MONTENEGRO is first, land of several I Dream Of Jeannie tribute acts. Five points for Sweden, six points for Italy, no points for us and 12 points for Serbia. Nothing for Latvia, I see.
THE RESULTS COME IN
And apparently one of the UK’s jury is the guy who does the Strictly Come Dancing music. We’re screwed, aren’t we?
I’m just embedding this because I want to create a terrible feedback loop of images.
We're on @StuHeritage's Eurovision Guardian feed! Happier than that enthusiastic percussionist in the interval song. pic.twitter.com/WQyjM6AC8l
— Rachel Burnham (@RachieBurnham) May 23, 2015
And now, some clips of people winning Eurovision. It is literally just a montage of people taking too long to walk to the stage, mumbling a couple of embarrassed platitudes and then slowly realising that they’re doomed to spend the rest of their lives as a pub quiz answer. That’s literally all it is.
And that’s that bit over. What’s next? A woman in the green room, reeling off the dullest facts about the Eurovision green room possible. Behind her, everyone is waving a flag, Their eyes are all a picture of agony, but they cannot stop waving. If they stop waving, the host comes and slaps them. Forever they must wave. Forever and ever.
And now, let’s meet the winner of the Junior Eurovision Song Contest. He’s only young, so we can’t be mean about him. Which is hard, to be honest. But on the plus side, at least he knows all the notes. We know he knows all the notes because he won’t stop singing them all at once forever.
Conchita is finished. “Why are you singing those songs?” the host asks her. Conchita says that she’s got an album out. This is just like the post-performance guest interview on X Factor. I’m waiting for Dermot O’Leary to run onstage, ask Conchita when she’s on tour next, then ignore her answer, then shove her offstage.
There was a third song called Literally Just Watching Some Children Muck About With Crayons, but that one never made it past the demo stage.
And now she’s singing another song called Firestorm. It’s one of two songs written about the treatment of the Eurovision acts in their pre-show VTs tonight. The other one is called Definite Imminent Drowning.
And HERE’S CONCHITA! She’s singing her new song, which is based on her acceptance speech from last year’s Eurovision. It’s a good thing that she won it and I didn’t, otherwise I’d be up there singing a song called Suck It Jerks.
The voting has now closed. You cannot vote now, but thanks for voting for Latvia anyway.
FINE, Graham Norton. Watch me never namecheck you when I’m liveblogging the fourth live X Factor final if that’s the way you’re going to behave.
Incidentally, spare a thought for these poor fools. Nobody deserves this. Nobody.
We have @StuHeritage's Guardian live tweets up on a bigger screen than @BBCEurovision. Oh, the world we live in. pic.twitter.com/GqFr6lA0dP
— Rachel Burnham (@RachieBurnham) May 23, 2015
While this recap plays out, Graham Norton is literally listing every single person watching this broadcast one by one. Is he mentioning me, though? Is he bollocks. I don’t pay my license fee to be IGNORED, Graham.
Well, it’s finished. What’s next? Oh, another recap. How brilliant. I swear to god, I’m about three seconds away from Periscoping a video of myself shaving my own back.
Now there’s a middle-aged man leaping about in front of everyone, trying to rouse the audience into displaying something that even vaguely resembles enthusiasm. But he cannot, because they’ve been there for five hours and that whole thing was the aural equivalent of suffocating yourself with a hospital pillow.
This is a true story: a couple of years ago I went to Vienna with my wife. We were walking back to our hotel and, because hardly anyone lives in Vienna, the streets were deserted. But, on the breeze, we heard music that sounded a lot like this from an open-air performance a few hundred yards away. Right then it felt truly magical, like the sort of thing that only happens once or twice in your life.
Right now, though, I’m sitting on my own in the dark, covered in bits of Haribo writing this for money and it’s RUBBISH. SHUT UP YOU BIG DRUM IDIOTS. SHUT UP.
You know what this sounds like, actually? It sounds like when you’re stuck in a cinema after the film’s finished because you dropped a glove that you can’t find, and this is the third piece of music that plays during the credits. You’re looking for a glove, all the cinema workers are giving you dirty looks because they want to start clearing up, and this music is playing.
So this, essentially is like The ghost of Steve Jobs cloned himself and decided to alert planet Earth to an impending disaster, a bit like Matthew McConaughey did in Interstellar, but with a really annoying freeform vibraphone solo instead of bits of dust. And somehow, this is much worse.
Now that the genuinely tedious recap is over, it’s time for the interval performance. Oh good christ it’s going to be a 20-minute drum solo. Someone kill me.
AUSTRALIA WRITES:
So Australia is not ashamed ... nor are we quite in the pub, Stu. That was just bravado on our parts. But we are in our pyjamas and thongs – that’s flip flops to you, UK – with a strong cup of tea (ahem, coffee) in our hands.
C'mon Aussie. #SBSEurovision pic via @BlinkTVco pic.twitter.com/9WWnvnmNoD
— SBS Eurovision (@SBSEurovision) May 23, 2015
And our Guy did well, didn’t he? He promised to wear a hat. We got a hat. He said “no flying kangaroos”. And there were none. Sadly, Katy Perry’s sharks at Super Bowl didn’t give us much wriggle room when it came to Vienna.
But we still confess to a burst of Aussie pride during him do his thing (seriously, can we have Tonight Again) and reading the adoring Tweets.
Guy Sebastian killed it. Awesome. #AUS #Eurovision
— Mark Humphries (@humphriesmark) May 23, 2015
Fun fact: apparently Guy got pumped up before his performance by watching the fight scene from Rocky IV. And didn’t it just show in the nu-soul funk on stage?
Guy himself tweets there’s “such a positive vibe in the room”. Guy uses the word “vibe” a lot, but that still counts for something doesn’t it? Let’s just hope the votes do, too.
The phrase "music brings people together" doesn't get much more literal than this. Such a great positive vibe in the room. #ESC2015
— Guy Sebastian (@GuySebastian) May 23, 2015
Updated
Oh god. It took ages for me to think up that acronym, and we’re still only halfway through the recap. This is never going to end, is it? Never ever.
You may now vote for anyone you like. Anyone. Vote for anyone you like.
Look
About now it’s
Time that you
Vampires picked up the phone
I am adamant that this is what you should do
Actually.
Anyone you like.
THERE IS NO MORE SINGING
Which means you’d better brace yourself for about 400 years of padding. And/or speed-couriering of bodyhair to Broadcasting House.
And that’s the end of Eurovision. BYE THEN.
I’ve just worked out what this performance reminds me of. It’s the bit in The Devil’s Advocate where Al Pacino turns into Satan.
Now, this lot would win Britain’s Got Talent. Suck it, Sweden.
Right, I’m not entirely sure what’s going on here. From what I can tell, Italy found the DNA of a vaguely anonymous boyband member trapped in amber and cloned it in a disastrous Jurassic Park-style mangling of God’s will to produce this band. No wonder they all look so bloody anguished.
THE LAST SONG! It’s Italy: Il Volo, Grande amore. No fire. What a massive bloody anticlimax.
Remember, it’s not too late to get in touch with Nigella Lawson and convince her to read out the UK scores in a Conchita beard. If she doesn’t have a beard, she just needs to say. I’m pretty sure I can shave off the vast majority of my body hair, stuff it into a jiffy bag and get it couriered over to her if she needs it.
Well, this is lovely. I haven’t quite been able to catch all of the lyrics, but from what I’ve heard it’s almost definitely the loveliest song about botched vivisection that I’ve ever heard. Full marks, Albania.
Now for Albania: Elhaida Dani, I’m Alive. It’s the penultimate song! She’s playing with dangerous machinery in the VT. All I’m really taking from tonight is that I’m going to buy a crapload of travel insurance next time I go to Austria.
OK, there’s 143 million people in Russia. So a million voices represents an overwhelming minority of voices. This song would be better off being called 142 Million Apathetic Silences.
This song seems to be about a million voices all coming together to call for peace. Hang on, let me do some maths...
I think this dress might be our first legitimate fire hazard of the night. Thanks Polina Gagarina, and thanks to whoever wired your dress up like a Habitat showroom.
Russia: Polina Gagarina, A Million Voices now. She’s just looking at some crystals in the VT. Presumably they ran out of video just before some Austrians attacked her with a barrage of flaming arrows.
Incidentally, the hour of the wolf is 3pm-4pm. It used to be later than that, but Dracula wanted to swap his hour out because he had to go and pick his kids up from school.
Also, is this a song about how much Elnur wants to have sex with a wolf? Because he should know that that’s illegal in many parts of continental Europe. I know this from bitter experience.
First, it’s important to point out that those aren’t actually wolves that Elnur is dancing around with; they’re respectively Sia and Max Headroom.
Right, we’re almost done. Azerbaijan: Elnur Hüseynov, Hour of the Wolf now. He’s combining fire and boats. Genuinely, one of the remaining acts is going to get full-on stabbed in their VT.
Very strong Golden Age of TV theme this year, isn’t there? This woman is the third act to look a bit Games Of Thronesy, and there was that Heisenberg guy earlier. I hope this means that the next singer is done up like Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt or, I dunno, Alfie Moon.
Seriously, we should probably just let her win; partly because she’s definitely going to kick off in a big way if she doesn’t, but mainly because if someone wins now I get to go to bed.
Oh THANK GOD for Georgia. This is exactly what this song contest needs – a woman expressing her dual loves of Jessie J and The Crow in the most berserk way possible. This woman is TERRIFYING.
Now! Georgia: Nina Sublatti, Warrior. In the meantime, I just heard from Australia. They just woke up. They slept through the show. This is not the first time I’ve been jealous of an Australian.
They just rhymed ‘dissent’ with ‘punishment’. This song is so abjectly dull that the crowd just clapped a picture of a tree. A PICTURE OF A TREE. I’m starting to miss that nimrod who set his piano on fire.
Subtle allegories clearly aren’t Hungary’s thing, because this song is called Wars For Nothing and there’s a knot of barbed wire in the background and the whole thing’s so heavyhanded that it’s like listening to a musical adaptation of a Bansky picture.
Still, thanks for convincing me that war is bad, Boggie. I didn’t know that before.
Next: Hungary: Boggie, Wars for Nothing. She is LITERALLY STANDING IN A FIRE. Austria just wants to kill people, that seems to be the key take-home message from tonight.
Question: is this the dullest Eurovision Song Contest in living memory? I’m mainlining Haribo here, just to stay awake. Someone liven it up, for God’s sake. Or, at the very least, get Graham Norton to say my name on the telly. “Stuart Heritage, sitting at home by himself, in the dark”, he should say. And I would be happy.
This is more like it. This is classic Eurovision. I don’t know if you’re playing the drinking game at home but, if you are, this woman is shouting into a wind machine so hard that you should all get mildly wasted. Extra points for her fruitless attempts to X-Men the audience away from her with her hands, too.
And now Spain: Edurne, Amanecer. She’s being attacked by dogs, I think.
The song ended with the singer going “Don’t leave the children behind”. And then they cut to a kid waving frantically. He’s totally been left behind.
“You will be the reason to start all over again” this song goes. FYI, if they do start this song all over again, I’m taking none of the blame. None of it.
This song’s a bit of a downer. A PREDICTION: in the aftershow party, this singer will gravitate towards the French woman, and everyone else will clear off.
I’m no expert, but I’d guess that Voltaj is Romanian for Heisenberg And His Dad Band, because that’s exactly what this is. It’s Coldplay, basically, except there’s a 55-year-old man in a baseball cap.
Song 20! Romania: Voltaj, De la capăt. They’re mucking about with horses. I bet, before the evening is done, we’ll see an act pogo through a minefield. That’s how dangerous these pursuits are.
This is such a good song, isn’t it? You should all vote for it. For no reason. Ahem.
Listen, don’t call a song Love Injected. You may as well just call it Giant Tatty Penis, because that’s what you’re all making us think of. That’s my only complaint about this song, though, because it is TREMENDOUS. It sounds like nothing else this evening. It’s a song I’d listen to outside the boundaries of a contractually obligated liveblog. I really, really want it to win.
OK! Now for Latvia: Aminata, Love Injected. Remember that bet I said I placed this year? Me too.
Ah, this isn’t actually too bad. There’s a heartbreak scene in an early-1990s rom-com that’s crying out to be soundtracked by this, for example. Oh, phew, it’s finished.
This is an especially dull ballad, performed by a woman in a wheelchair. Now, this probably speaks to how tacky Eurovision is, but I’m slightly worried that she’ll mark a keychange by rising from the wheelchair in a demonstration of the transformative power of music. I realise this is a horribly cynical thing to think. But if it happens, I’m abandoning the liveblog.
Now! Poland: Monika Kuszyńska, In the Name of Love. She’s making a cake. A lovely cake.
If you want to recreate this performance at hime, by the way, you’ll need access to the Made.com lighting warehouse and an in correct memory of the Catherine Zeta Jones robbery scene from that film she was in. I forget which one.
Look, it doesn’t matter, you’re not going to recreate this performance at home, are you? Because why would you? You might as well spend and evening driving staples into the soles of your feet.
Germany has really gone over and above this year, by which I mean it’s reanimated the corpse of Amy Winehouse and made her sing a song about the baddie from Lost. I mean, it’s called Black Smoke. What else could it be about?
Now! Germany: Ann Sophie, Black Smoke.
“Is black slimming?” asked Knez. “Sure” his advisors replied. “What about shiny leather lapels?” he asked. “Um, we’ll have to look that up” his advisors replied. “Actually, scrap that, I’m just drawing a moustache on with a Sharpie” he said. His advisors all resigned.
Still, it’s nice to see Montenegro giving work to Mickey Rourke. I’ve been worried about him too.
Well, so far this is just a load of Scottish Widows doing interpretive dance in the sea. If I stop paying attention to this performance, it’s because I’ve become overwhelmingly preoccupied with the prospect of them all getting electrocuted.
Now Montenegro: Knez, Adio. He’s fishing. There’s a lot of water in Austria, we get it. Stop showing off about all your water, Austria.
Hey Greece, Celine Dion called. She doesn’t want her song back, though. She’s just asking for a pizza. I think she misdialled. It sounds like she’s crying. I’m worried about Celine Dion.
“All I have is one last breath” she’s singing. God, imagine how hard she’s going to kick herself when she realises that she’s wasted it on this cack.
Lady, either your diction is all over the place or this song is a meditation on how to treat sores with gongs. Either way, you look a bit like Shakira and you’ve proven your competency at shouting into windtunnels. So I guess there’s that.
The next one is Greece: Maria Elena Kyriakou, One Last Breath. In the VT, she watches some kids do some colouring in. Europe really isn’t happy with Greece, is it?
Ooh, a throwback to Sebastian Tellier’s 2008 performance. That was the last Eurovision song I truly enjoyed. Every one just then has just hastened my spiritual death. Even this next one. Especially the next one.
Back to the backstage area, which tonight has been themed on the intergalactic parliament from The Phantom Menace.
I just tried it. I can’t. Sorry for getting your hopes up, Europe.
Oh wow. The singer just flicked his hand and his piano caught fire. What a neat trick. I wonder if I can do the same thing with his vocal chords.
Bloody hell Austria, I know that the Eurovision Song Contest is expensive to host, but you don’t have to deliberately scupper your chances by basically entering Keane. At least the singer has a beard, which is vaguely Conchitaish. But that aside, this is like watching Kasabian’s dads have a knees-up in a Dignitas clinic. It’s like Radio 2 grew arms and legs and went on the rampage. No.
Now for the home country. It’s Austria: The Makemakes, I Am Yours. They’re doing a Tough Mudder in the VT. Weirdos.
This appears to be a song about what’d happen if we all died tomorrow. I don’t know about anyone else, but I’d crawl to the nearest possible reflective surface and use my dying breath to loudly berate myself for liveblogging Eurovision for a living.
A brave move by Belgium here. Not because it’s entered an ostensibly quite minimal song, but because the backing singers are clad from head to toe in unblemished white. Seriously, one mistimed hotdog bite and the whole shebang would have been utterly derailed.
I think we’re almost halfway through now. Here’s Belgium: Loïc Nottet, Rhythm Inside. In other news, what do I have to do to get Graham Norton to read my name out on the telly?
Also, can someone inform the International Olly Murs Manufacturing Plant that the Australian strain has escaped and gained the ability to cross borders. Please stop him, for the sake of mankind.
Actually, you might win. Because this is pretty good, isn’t it? It’s a bit Tonight On ITV Be, but it doesn’t actively make me hate all music, which is about the best we can hope from these things.
Still, OK, Australia, we’ve let you become part of Europe for the night. Best case scenario, you’ll win. Worst case scenario, you’ll stay here long enough to grow a mullet and develop a thing for double denim.
Song 12! Australia: Guy Sebastian, Tonight Again! Please, feel free to make your dimwitted ‘Bur, Australia isn’t in Europe’ jokes now.
Oh, now I feel bad. This isn’t actually a bad song. I mean, I’d never buy it or listen to it or spend any amount of time thinking about it, but it’s not that bad.
A third thing you should have done? You should have avoided looking so much like the host of the Canadian food programme You Gotta Eat Here. Hope that all helps, John.
And I’ll tell you another thing you should have done. You should have reconsidered switching from black and white to colour midway through the song like that, because it comes off like you’ve remade The Wizard of Oz about the magical adventures of a boring singer with a rubbish song.
I’ll tell you one thing you should have done, John. You should have written a better song.
Now for Cyprus: John Karayiannis, One Thing I Should Have Done. He’s paddleboarding. Again, a pursuit rife with danger. I don’t think I can ever go to Austria again.
This is totally going to win. So thank god it’s on Eurovision and not Britain’s Got Talent, because it’d probably never get past the live semi-finals there.
Obviously Sweden is going to win tonight, because this song is so muscular and self-assured that it makes mincemeat of almost everything else. However, I have two qualms: first, the singer looks a bit like BBC Three’s Russell Howard. Second, by dancing around with a cartoon like that, he reminds me of Paula Abdul and MC Skat Kat’s Opposites Attract video, and anything that forces me to rely on lazy nostalgia as a commentary device certainly deserves to be penalised.
Now: Sweden: Måns Zelmerlöw, Heroes. Spoiler alert, it’s probably going to win. In the VT, he wears a spacesuit because, as we all know, oxygen is a scarce resource in Austria.
Now for a quick break, where the judges go and hang out with the audience. Nothing of note happens. You’re welcome.
This song is called A Monster Like Me. These singers are definitely monsters. The sort of monsters who over-emote and are massively into musical theatre. The worst kind of monsters, basically. Worse than Draculas.
This song is about a terrible thing that the singer did as a child. I know a teacher who once caught a toddler pushing Lego up his bum. I wonder if that’s what this guy did. That’s pretty terrible, after all.
Next: Norway: Mørland & Debrah Scarlett, A Monster Like Me. They’re being cheered for rowing a boat. I can row a boat. Nobody ever cheered me for it. This, frankly, is an outrage.
I just checked Twitter, and everyone’s going mad for this song. The motto seems to be that the best way to get what you want is to yell at people. Thanks Serbia!
Actually, WHAT THE HELL? Let me retract that. She isn’t just shouting. She’s making a noise like she’s being flung around the engine room of a capsizing liner in a tropical storm. What a weird noise. Serbia, what exactly have you unleashed here?
Serbia has submitted a song about the universal truth found in beauty, which makes me slightly worried that it’s actually a Nivea commercial in disguise, but whatever. Anyway, if you’re keeping count, there’s a woman shouting into a wind machine.
Now it’s Serbia: Bojana Stamenov, Beauty Never Lies.
‘Put your hands in the air if you’re feeling the love’ the guy said. I didn’t put my hand in the air, because I’m busy liveblogging. Also I AM ABSOLUTELY NOT FEELING THE LOVE.
They just kissed. Someone inform the International Same Difference Manufacturing Plant that the Lithuanian strain has escaped and started to breed. Please stop them, for the sake of mankind.
This is already off-putting. It’s like watching a Monsoon catalogue go busking with the Zara clearance rail. The lyrics seem to be nothing but “I’m feeling love round and round in my heart”, which is something I can relate to, but only if you change the word ‘love’ to the word ‘cholesterol’.
Next: Lithuania: Monika Linkytė & Vaidas Baumila, This Time. They’re bungee jumping. These Austrians are a properly devious bunch, aren’t they?
Good lord, I think I might actually be watching some sort of globally-broadcast wiccan spell. No. No. No. No. No. NO. No.
No. I do not like this. This is barely even a song. It’s like the opening number of a shortlived West End musical called Gust! or Dazzle! or Plep! or Blort! It’s like a load of grim reapers decided to make a Polyphonic Spree tribute band. No. No.
Now: Armenia: Genealogy, Face the Shadow. In the VT, they’re all eating candyfloss. Again, a deliberate attempt to force them into a self-hobbling sugar crash. Nice try, Austria, but I’m wise to you.
This is still a bad song, and far too long, but on the plus side you have to give these performers full marks for not accidentally going into autopilot and factoring ‘They’re waffley versatile’ into the lyrics.
You know how sometimes The Asylum makes knock-off versions of current films in the hope that they can trick idiots into buying them? This is like The Asylum’s version of The Great Gatsby. The Adequate Gitsby, if you will.
There is a chance that I may have been a little bit too mean about this song, which I said I hated when I first heard it. I still hate it but, now that I’ve heard the dirge that passes for most of the other songs this year, it doesn’t seem quite as bad as I thought. Plus it totally sounds like the Birdseye Potato Waffles advert, which never hurts.
Now the moment you’ve all been waiting for: United Kingdom: Electro Velvet, Still in Love with You. In the VT, they get to play with drones. I assume this is to give them the illusion of control.
“Why didn’t you wake me up? I’m pretty sure I would have told you to stop”. Those are actual lyrics and excuse me I have to go and scrub my mind and brain with disinfectant-soaked wire wool.
This is a duet. There’s a woman who looks furious at her partner, possibly because it looks like he’s turned up for his date wearing a novelty One Direction wig.
As has become traditional in these liveblogs, I’m about to betray my natural bias for Estonia by saying that this is one of the best songs so far. It’s like the theme for a James Bond film and not a Duffy B-side like you think. Hooray for Estonia!
Who’s next? Estonia: Elina Born & Stig Rästa, Goodbye to Yesterday. In a word, skateboards.
“If that doesn’t put a smile on your face, you are dead inside” said Graham Norton, as the camera cut to someone looking like they were trying to work out an especially painful poo.
I wish he was the King of Shut Up.
Also, he just said “Do you like my dancing?” and then wiggled his pelvis at nothing, like he was humping a ghost. Never trust a ghost-humper, that’s my motto and it’s served me well so far.
Did he just call himself ‘The King of Fun?’ Because I’m not sure I can really get behind a man who thinks that novelty footwear is the epitome of good vibes.
Mate, what are you wearing on your feet? You’re not Iron Man, you know. You’re essentially a Poundland Michael Buble. This, for those of you not watching, is genuinely dreadful. It’s like watching the death-throes of a 1990s boyband.
Next: Israel: Nadav Guedj, Golden Boy. In the VT, Nadav opens a box and then graffitis a cable car with some sort of intimidating KKK Batman figure.
Lisa’s singing in front of an unbroken shot of rubble, which is probably the perfect visual metaphor for this song. I’m not one to talk, but I think that France might have got the Eurovision Song Contest mixed up with the Woman You’d Least Like To Be Trapped In A Lift With Contest. Which she’d win by a MILE, by the way.
Good old France. When the chips are down, you can always count on them to drag a sad lass onstage and make her act all glum. The title of this song translates to ‘Don’t Forget’, which seems like a stretch since this sounds like everyone’s third-favourite Ewan the Dream Sheep preset.
Next: France: Lisa Angell, N’oubliez pas. In her VT, she has her makeup done and then hangs out with some taxidermy. This is a deliberately creepy effort on Austria’s part to undermine the competition, I guarantee it.
Wind machine. Do drink up.
This is just a hunch, but I’d guess that Maraaya’s headphones are playing a loop of positive affirmations. ‘Just get through tonight, Maraaya’ they’re saying. ‘You’re better than this, and everyone know it’ they’re saying. ‘And don’t forget, you’ve got a lively bit of fish in the oven when you get home’ they’re saying.
Maraaya, pick a look. You can either be dressed as a bride or dressed as someone with an unhealthy obsession with Jennifer Lopez’s Play video. You can’t do both. Also, pick a backing performer. You can either have a violinist or a dancer. Having a dancer who mimes playing the violin is both greedy and weird.
THE FIRST SONG
Here we go. The first act is Slovenia: Maraaya, Here For You. I missed the introductory VT, but it looked like it involved spinning around. Hope that helps.
The middle host just announced that Eurovision is being broadcast live in China, and the two hosts either size of her just pulled the sort of triumphant faces that douchebags in deodorant adverts do whenever hot girls look at them. You know the face. It’s a kind of facial fist-pump. You know the face I’m talking about. I’m bored already. Can you tell?
Eurovision. Bringing people together via the power of that one editing trick from that one Facebook video that your dad keeps showing you.
Good news, everyone. There’s already another film. This one’s about the glorious power of social media. To reinforce this, I just checked Twitter and it’s just a load of people going ‘JESUS THIS IS BORING I AM DRUNK LOL PLS RT’.
It’s too tiny. Imagine if there’d been a stage that size a few years ago. It would have never contained the unstoppable charisma of Andy Abraham.
Man alive, that stage looks tiny.
Right, that’s it. Goodnight everyone!
I was wrong. This isn’t like the Olympic opening ceremony. It’s like the first part of Take Me Out. A version of Take Me Out where nobody ever finds happiness and spends all of their dates despairingly look out into the middle-distance, admittedly, but Take Me Out nonetheless.
Oh no. No no. You don’t need to do an Olympics-style opening ceremony where all the acts get hauled on one-by one. Life is precious, guys, and time is short. Every time we’re watching a Norwegian singer stroll through an auditorium is time we don’t get to spend with our children.
And now, a guy in a hat who I already hate. He’s like a one-man super-budget LMFAO tribute act. But one that you dreamed about after eating too much soft cheese on a rollercoaster. Tl;dr not a fan.
And the Vienna Boys’ Choir. Or at least the members of the Vienna Boys’ Choir who can open their mouths the widest, because I feel like I’ve just undergone a brief dentistry course.
And now last year’s winner Conchita Wurst is performing a song. But only a bit of it, because here comes tonight’s hosts. They’re three women and, from what I can tell, they all possess a basic level of functional competency when it comes to miming.
OK, the show’s on the road. There’s a woman with a violin and a golfball on a bit of string. It’s this dizzying level of production values that makes the Eurovision Song Contest such a global draw time and time again.
This is absolutely the longest opening montage VT I’ve ever seen in my entire life. Which is exciting, really, because if Eurovision needs anything it’s unnecessary padding.
Tonight’s themes, apparently, are ‘bridges’ and ‘circles’. This follows last year, of course, which had the themes ‘carpeting’ and ‘open sores’.
Ooh, I’ve been to this part of Vienna. Vienna is nice. Actually, why aren’t I in Vienna now? This is a ridiculous oversight.
Ooh, Eurovision starts with a swanky BBC Music ident now. I mean, technically speaking, ‘Music’ probably should have been in inverted commas, but whatever.
And now, ladies and gentlemen, it’s time for the 2015 Eurovision Song Contest. Good luck everyone. Dig deep.
Also on BBC One, a National Lottery musical act that appears to be an abandoned Olly Murs prototype. I have a feeling that this is a deliberate ploy on the part of the BBC to make the rest of the evening seem more palatable in comparison.
Meanwhile on BBC One: Nick Knowles is presenting a celebrity gameshow while wearing a suit that makes him look as if he’s riddled with glittery psoriasis. Guys, I think tonight might have already peaked.
Oh, christ, I forgot to do a drinking game this year. How about this - drink whenever:
*A woman screams into a wind machine
*A song doubles as a tortured metaphor for the agony of war
*Someone references ‘the children’ in such a boneheaded way that you can’t be fully sure of their meaning
*Nigella Lawson presents the UK votes while wearing a Conchita beard.
* Graham Norton makes a dimwitted ‘Bur, Australia isn’t in Europe’ crack.
* A dress lights up, changes colour, grows, shrinks, falls off or is torn about by a marauding bull that’s somehow found itself in the arena.
*Just, you know, whenever you feel like drinking. This is Eurovision, after all. We’ve got to get through it somehow.
Also, just to keep things interesting tonight – and to make sure that I don’t drift off during the voting section like I normally do – I’ve decided to place an actual monetary bet on one of the acts tonight. I won’t tell you who, or how much I’ve bet, but I will say that I stand to win £800 from it. So if my ship comes in, I’m basically just going to just abandon this liveblog and immediately go on a first-class round-the-world cruise. They cost £800, right?
Before things get going, you know what you should do? You should take this Eurovision quiz I co-wrote, and then hang your head in shame because you got none of them right because I’m so much better at Eurovision than you. That’s what you should do.
Hello, bon soir, accoglienza, vorsicht and lo siento – it’s The Guardian’s annual Eurovision liveblog!
For many of you, your entire year has steadily been building up to this moment; after all, Eurovision is the one night of the year when too many countries get to spend too much time performing too many songs, before the same amount of time is given over to the intricacies of a bone-dry continent-wide numerical scoring system. Basically, it’s Christmas.
As I write this, Vienna is systematically transforming into an orgy of glitter and sparkles and over-rehearsed inter-host banter that’s doomed to die a million horrible deaths the moment it’s unleashed upon the world. Every wind machine repairman in Europe is on standby. Every producer of painfully symbolic interstitial videos is taking a step back and wondering if they’ve done enough. Every British person is getting ready to spend three minutes coughing politely and looking away during Electro Velvet’s performance. God, I love Eurovision so much.
So, readers, here’s how tonight will unfold. As soon as Eurovision begins, I will start liveblogging like billyo. You, meanwhile, will comment rampantly on everything you see. Then, about half an hour from the end, I will let the occasion slip away from me and blurt out some sort of horrifically misjudged joke that will be misconstrued as xenophobic and force me into hiding while the international incident plays out. Pretty much a normal Eurovision, then.
Except that – this year – the liveblog will be intermittently broken up with contributions from our Australian office, who’ll be commenting on the SBS coverage. From a pub. It’s 5am in Australia. Australians are great.
Genuinely, hand on heart, I’m thrilled that you’ve decided to keep me company tonight. I’ll be back at 8pm when Eurovision starts. Godspeed, everyone.
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