THIS week I’m in Sao Paulo, but that doesn’t matter because there is so much going on at my hostel I don’t even have time to go out. All the folks here have got carried away with Eurovision and its shocker aftermath.
The day I arrived, I was delighted to discover I was sharing not just my dorm, but the entire floor, with what must be every member of the same Israeli Kibbutz. It’s total chaos – there are like 20 of them – just travelling the world surviving on nothing but busking and credit card fraud. Plus, they were totally wild about Eurovision because – get this – the guy who was doing the song was from their Kibbutz! Seriously, Israel is just like one big, happy family.
Normally, I ring in the ‘Vision chez my fabulous cross-dressing pals, Marilyn and Sabrina, where we drink gallons of Marilyn’s famous cocktail (‘The Ribrini’ – half Ribena, half Lambrini) until our pee turns maroon and we have to go to hospital. But when I suggested cross dressing for the occasion to the Israelis, they just got weirded out and said Harel was not a homosexual and this was no laughing matter.
When Harel came on to do his song, all the girls started crying and saying he had the voice of an angel. I said he sounded just like Moses and they all nodded. Secretly, I reckoned Harel being a homosexual wasn’t a massive stretch of the imagination but I kept that to myself.
My favourite was simple: Allemania uber alles! The catchy beat and fascinating cockney jibberish was so much better than Lily Allen. I didn’t realise until the end of the song that I’d been dancing alone: My new pals did not like it one bit. Turns out Israelis have pretty specific tastes and didn’t give Germany any points at all. But it was okay because by sheer coincidence, Germany didn’t give Israel any points either. Phew!
My new pals took it really bad when Israel lost. I got bored with them at that point and went off to download Lena’s album to listen to in bed.
Then, I woke up to see Israel had attacked some charity workers on a boat and broken hundreds of international laws. Hello? Chill Pill! Someone needs to break it to those guys that that their song wasn’t actually that good. It’s like when my mate Gemma said DJ Rico was a flatulent rapist and I didn’t rip her fucking face off even though I’d just had three lines of Pro Plus and half a bottle of Aftershock. I demonstrated a level of restraint that’s all too rare these days.
My advice to Israel is: Be gracious in defeat. And if you really want to be the best, just tone down the camp! There is always next year in Germany, and that’s what makes Eurovision the greatest international European event in the world!