What do you mean, "don't take Eurovision too seriously"?

The Ascension Day holiday, usually a good time for blogging, will be a little busier than usual this year, so I'd better get my Eurovision post out of the way this week instead. The first question that suggests itself is: Am I upset that Sweden didn't win? Answer: Nope. Not even the littlest bit.

Now, don't get me wrong. The Finnish trio KAJ who represented Sweden this year are charming boys. Their number, which poked gentle fun at Swedish conceptions of Finns, has done wonders for relations between Sweden and Finland, and is very easy to hum. But it is a jokey song, designed to appeal to those who prefer Eurovision to be as wacky as possible. And I'm not one of them.

My daily newspaper was fond of proclaiming that it was about time Sweden sent something a little more light-hearted to the contest. According to Swedish journalists, Sweden had started to become unpopular by sending high-quality, earnest pop songs to Eurovision year after year, as if we cared about winning way too much. We needed to learn how to chill a bit more and not take the whole thing so seriously.

It's a point of view, I guess, but it's not mine. There's no denying Eurovision tends to be full of "out there" moments, and there are probably lots of fans who lean into the crazy and think that that's what it's all about. But for me, the Eurovision Song Contest is primarily just that – a song contest. You don't have to win it, certainly (though it's preferable to make the final, and not finish last among the finalists). But you should aim to send a good, solid song to represent your country. Jokes should be left to the host country's self-deprecating intermission number.

I mean, can you see the Norwegians sending skiers who clown about in the snow to the Ski World Championships, just to make everyone feel better because Norway usually tends to win? No, me neither, worse luck.

Basel did a stellar job of hosting this year, with hosts that actually had a matey chemistry and good timing in their delivery of a not-too-cringey script. As for the songs, here are some of the memorable moments:

Positive national stereotype of the year: Spain Maybe not the strongest on rewatch, but I had a weakness for the Flamenco (or something)-dancing Spanish diva, who ended her number reclining in a swoony pose in the capable arms of a brave background dancer (imagine if he'd dropped her). Spectacle, glamour, and pretty nice to listen to.

Aww-inducing act of the year: Italy "I don't have the face of a tough guy" – no, that you don't, sweetheart. These last years, Italy has shown a certain amount of street cred, and this year's entry, though not as rocky as, say, Måneskin, continued the trend. Lucio's clown makeup did make me feel as if a character from an old Swedish children's programme was having an existential crisis (to Swedish readers I need only say: banana), but the overall effect was that of a cute troubadour acquitting himself with credit.

Shameless filth of the year: Finland and Malta You're in trouble when a Finnish blonde riding an enormous microphone up to the sky while yelling "Ich komme" ("I come", in German for some reason, I mean ta very much but even so) isn't even the most tasteless thing Eurovision has to offer. Instead, that prize goes to Malta. Can you blame the EBU for demanding that the word "kant" (Maltese for "song", apparently) be removed from the song title? The number still leaves little to the imagination, with the singer entering through an open, heavily-lipsticked mouth, widely-spread female legs waving in the background, and dancers cavorting in the foreground. By the end, the singer is seated on a bouncing ball. I'd say it's pretty clear it's not song she's serving. But what are the gently rocking leopards doing there?

Nice singers, shame about the song of the year: United Kingdom It may seem I'm always picking on the poor old UK, but honestly, limeys, it's just because I love you and want you to do better. This time, we had three female pros from musical theatre. That's a good start – but what were they singing? Every time you thought the song was about to go somewhere, it inexplicably slowed down in a stop-go-stop-go manner. Not sophisticated, just weird.

Earworm of the year: Luxemburg Oh dear, are we still doing the "I'm not a puppet" cliché? Still, it has to be said, the refrain sticks in your brain very effectively.

I'm still avoiding those elephants, as you can see. Sorry about that.

The guilty pleasure of Riverdale

Imagine, if you can, a TV series called Duckburg, where the characters are not quite as you remember them from Donald Duck and Mickey Mouse comics. To start with, naturally, they're all human. Flintheart Glomgold is married to Magica de Spell, and the murder of their son Gladstone Gander forms the main mystery to be resolved during the show's first season. Mickey Mouse has made clear to Minnie in the very first episode that he's only interested in her as a friend. That's just as well, as Minnie starts a sweet romance with an unusually broody Goofy, who has plans of becoming a writer but is somewhat too mixed up in a biker gang. Mickey, for his part, is dating the daughter of Peg-Leg Pete – who incidentally has hit the gym big time.

This, you would agree, would be taking a great deal of liberties with the source material. But heck, I'd watch it.

Without actually having read the American comic Archie (except stray pages that the cunning algorithm has started to show in my Facebook feed), I'd say this is a pretty fair analogy to the difference between Archie and the TV series Riverdale. The comic, from what I have been told and can make out from said Facebook snippets, is a light-hearted affair where girl-next-door Betty and rich girl Veronica vie for the attention of the red-headed titular character. In the TV series, on the other hand, the young protagonists' lives and loves are endlessly complicated by dark and twisted mysteries, and the outwardly idyllic small town is full of buried corpses (literally). It's borderland insane – but I am hooked.

So why, considering that the quality does go downhill after a neat first season, and the plot lines get ever more derailed, did I spend the better part of a day (I had and have a cold, so there was an excuse) bingeing the last episodes of season four of Riverdale instead of, say, finally watching The Conclave? My reasons are highly subjective:

It's Once Upon A Time methadone: Small-town intrigue? Check. Cosy diner where everyone goes? Check. Twisted goings-on behind an idyllic front? Check. Powerful mayors and sheriffs who wear an actual star on their police uniform? Check. Lots and lots of relationship drama? Check. Riverdale gives me enough "heightened reality" – or rather total lack of reality – vibes to remind me of my all-time favourite series. 

True, there's no Rumple/Mr Gold for my heart to ache over, but that can be restful. And the villains on offer are entertaining, in their fashion. In the first season, the Blossom family, with their 19th-century Gothic Aesthetic, are an absolute delight, but their importance diminishes as the series goes on. The exception is red-headed bombshell Cheryl, who moves from bitch to wild-card to generally well-disposed towards the heroes. She's always fun with her withering put-downs and quirks, but what can I say? I had hoped that the Blossom family drama would have turned out somewhat differently.

What of Peg-Leg Pete then – or rather Hiram Lodge, father of the enterprising Veronica Lodge? I mean, he's handsome – conventionally so, but they can't all be silver foxes. However, much as my superego appreciates that the series doesn't go the clichéd route of turning a "normal" businessman into a villainous mastermind, and instead opts for making Hiram a straight-out gangster, my id is a bit disappointed. As tired as the Evil Capitalist trope is, it usually leads to more toothsome villains (in my personal opinion) than the Tough Mobster trope. Hiram's fun, with his wide-eyed "what did I do?" reaction to well-founded accusations, but he's a bit too macho for me.

I can catch up on the soap-watching experience: I was too young for the classic soaps such as Dallas and Dynasty, and though there were soaps aimed at teenagers around when I myself was one, I wasn't patient enough back then to try them. Any series with more than 100 episodes I wrote off immediately. 

Now, though, I see the appeal of series where you're not going to run out of episodes in a hurry. There's a particular appeal in watching the script writers come up with increasingly far-fetched drama just to keep the story going. Yes, it will lead to arcs you don't care for very much and want wrapped up as soon as possible, but if the writers do their job properly there will be enough plates spinning to keep you interested even through the rough patches. And there's always the hope that they'll hit gold and suddenly introduce a storyline almost as good as in that first season you fondly remember.

The protagonists are really likeable: At the centre of the series are four friends (who are supposed to be high-schoolers but naturally are played by actors in their twenties). They eventually pair up into two couples: Archie and Veronica on the one hand, Betty and Jughead (real name: Forsythe Pendleton III, and no, he's not "old money") on the other. Of course there are plenty of bust-ups, but essentially they stand by each other through thick and thin and are a bunch easy to root for. 

Betty is the stand-out – a good girl with a dark side, who generally manages to keep "Dark Betty" under control and do the right thing, while being well able to counter any bitchy attack with full force. Jughead has his own scruffy charm, and Veronica is an entertaining powerhouse, always dragging the somewhat aimless Archie in her wake with gentle force. 

Archie himself is, in some ways, the weak link, saddled as he is with a certain righteous blandness. His character is also one of the main victims of the soap format: every half-season or so, he's seriously into something new, something he's convinced will be the mainstay of his future: music, boxing, helping disadvantaged youths, you name it. You just want him to pick a lane and stop making hair-raising mistakes. On the other hand, having a hero character in need of support from his more colourful friends isn't such a bad idea. And let's face it: the hero was never going to be the main attraction for me.