How I had a hand in Ireland's Eurovision entry

Dustin is the perfect representative for Ireland in 2008, combining the necessary elements of levity and seriousness in just …

Dustin is the perfect representative for Ireland in 2008, combining the necessary elements of levity and seriousness in just the right mixture, writes John Waters

I SEEM to remember that Dustin was my idea, though I am willing to concede that it may have occurred simultaneously to everyone associated with last year's Irish Eurovision entry. There is something about looking in your bathroom mirror on the morning after coming last in the final that pops the word "puppet" into your head. There was very little talk over breakfast, but I do remember saying to the head of the Irish delegation, Julian Vignoles, that next time he might consider taking Dustin or Podge and Rodge.

The Eurovision Song Contest is neither important nor unimportant. It is what it is. It must be nice to win, but it's not the end of the world when you come last. However, there are a number of odd paradoxes associated with the Eurovision that serve to complicate matters.

One is the marked difference between the attitude of the public in general and that of the media in general. The public enjoys it no matter what happens, appearing to understand implicitly what the Eurovision is about, to appreciate the lightness of it, to attach to it precisely the correct weight, which is roughly that of half a dozen turkey feathers.

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Media people, with a few exceptions, appear at a loss to convey its complex mixture of kitsch and style, frivolity and earnestness, and dress this inadequacy up as contempt.

They either approach it with a clunking cynicism that might be better deployed against the Lisbon Treaty or the Mahon tribunal, or else treat it with a Guardian-ish disdain until it provides an opportunity to give someone a good kicking. Most elements of the media ridicule the very idea of wanting to enter Eurovision until disaster strikes and you come last. Then they behave like something serious and terrible has happened.

A further paradox resides in the fact that, although entrants must approach the contest with the correct leval of gravity, which is to say very little, there is a countervailing requirement for seriousness of purpose with regard to performance, design, costumes and so forth. The correct approach is in the manner of a clown rehearsing his act: he must work hard to make himself look foolish.

For these and other reasons, Dustin is the perfect representative for Ireland 2008, combining the necessary elements in just the right mixture at a time when the future direction of the competition is a little unclear.

Dustin is, of course, a way of hedging our bet. It would be foolish not to, since on the face of it there seems little chance of a western European country winning for some time. Nor is this because of the much-analysed and entirely non-existent voting pacts among eastern nations, but precisely because these newer-arrived entrants approach the enterprise with the right combination of lightness and intensity. It matters to them, but in an easy, laughable way. This pop music thing is fun and seems like one good way of celebrating their identities. More mundanely, since 2004 they have spread themselves throughout Europe, and so are in a position to utilise the voting systems of the jaded West to say something of their presence.

(The most interesting thing about the voting patterns is not that eastern countries vote for each other, but that western countries vote for them too. Last year, Ireland gave its 12 points to Lithuania. No one else in Europe did likewise.) I wouldn't rule out a Dustin victory. Now the media has exhausted its turkey jokes, we seem to have settled down to the usual orgy of negativity. Aside from the nonsense that a turkey representing Ireland amounts to a "trivialisation" of Eurovision (an interesting challenge), we have the nonsense about Den humour not translating from north Dublin to the European stage. But, in Kracow or Kilbarrack, a turkey is a turkey, and a puppet a puppet. In our multicultural age, a turkey-puppet is something to be.

One of the many things the media failed to notice, or relate, last year was that the winning Serbian song had already been a No 1 hit in several eastern countries. It was also overlooked that Ukraine came second with a frothy novelty act, which might have won if it had the extra exposure of a semi-final appearance. (Interestingly, recent winners have invariably come through from the semi-final. Thanks to our careful strategy last year, Dustin is now among that lucky elite.) Already Dustin is attracting enough attention from international media to provide him with the recognition factor that, when all is said and done, is the most critical factor in the text-centred voting system now in use in almost every voting country.

This, combined with his potentially instant appeal to the texting demographic, could make him a serious contender. This plucky turkey has the charm to become loved throughout Europe and so redefine what the Eurovision is about. But, they lament, it's a song contest. Sure it is.

John Waters's column used to appear on Mondays but henceforth will be published on Fridays