Credibility, controversy, lesbian chic, tasteful music? No, it's just not Eurovision. What's wrong with LaLaLaLa, asks Róisín Ingle
Devotees of the Eurovision Song Contest have been getting a little perturbed lately at what seems to be an attempt to inject some - whisper it - credibility into the competition. Some people don't appear to understand that the complete lack of credibility is what makes the Eurovision such blissful viewing. The annual kitschfest is the epitome of uncool and that's why we hold Eurovision parties - what do you mean, you've never held a Eurovision party? - with food and beverages from the participating countries. It's why we take the phone off the hook on the night in question. It's why we draw lots to see which country we are backing - and if I get lumbered with Cyprus again, I'm going to be very upset.
I digress. Allow me to present the case for the prosecution. One word, or four letters anyway: tATu. Generally, I have no objection to the Russian popstrels who in the past year have brought lesbian chic to new heights, but they belong in the Top of the Pops studio, not in Riga. Mainstream pop acts simply have no place in a competition where a song called La La La La (containing 138 mentions of the, um, word "La") once scooped the top prize.
"We want to blast away everything that's been done before with our sexy act," tATu's Lena Katina (18) told the German magazine, Bild, yesterday. In doing so, they are depriving some other act of their taste-free 15 minutes of fame - which is unforgivable. Also, apart from the Israeli transsexual who Pat Kenny famously called "he, she or it" a few years ago, the Eurovision has remained a controversy-free zone. If Julia and Lena start kissing on stage, their antics will overshadow the important things like the hilarious song titles, the eye-popping clothes and the quality of Terry Wogan's commentary. The Eurovision Song Contest will become the Eurovision Tongue Contest - and who knows where it could lead?
Furthermore, I would like to point out that the British entry is a blatant clone of another mainstream pop act, Steps. Bye, Bye, Baby, the song by Jemini, is performed by two identikit blonde singers (a boy and a girl) dressed in the kind of gear you see down your local disco. Elsewhere in the competition there is a slew of Enrique and Britney wannabes. The Eurovision is about making pioneering fashion blunders, carving your own cringe-worthy path. It's not about copying whoever else is in the charts and trying to look like you haven't left your dignity at the airport.
Our own representative, Mickey "don't call me Joe" Harte, doesn't seem to have grasped the point of the contest. He is quoted as saying the Eurovision has suffered "difficulties in the credibility department" in the past, as though that were a bad thing. If he tries to look credible tonight while singing his song, I won't be held responsible for my actions. While I am on the subject the cruel axing of A Song For Europe in favour of the You're A Star competition was another example of trying to fix something that isn't broken.
It's enough to make you long for the days when whipping off a knee-length skirt to reveal another shorter skirt, à la Bucks Fizz, was daring. Thankfully, us genuine fans far outnumber the fair-weather teenyboppers who are only tuning in to watch the school uniform-clad Russians. And, as genuine fans, we will vote for the most Eurovisiony entry, not the coolest one. Because of this, my money is not, as is predicted, on tATu.
Sadly, I fear a trend is emerging. This week, it was announced that Ryan Tubridy, presenter of The Full Irish on RTÉ Radio 2, is going to be the presenter of The Rose of Tralee. Now, Tubridy's age (30) and irreverent style suggest he may not be up for the job of making inane comments and behaving in a manner that roots viewer to sofas with embarrassment. The point of The Rose of Tralee is that every year we go on about how dated, awful and irrelevant it is - and then watch it in droves because in terms of car-crash TV it doesn't get much better. In short, I am concerned Tubridy might make the event watchable or, worse, credible. This madness must stop.