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.

Eurovision 2024: You're welcome to it, Switzerland

What do you mean, there's an elephant in the room? Where? Wait, there are two now?

Yeah, there's no denying Eurovision got a little tense this year. Although, in my entirely unbiased opinion, Sweden did an excellent job of hosting the competition – we threw anything but the kitchen sink at it: the Crown Princess, Abbatars, "Hooked on a Feeling" and self-deprecating numbers about our Eurovision obsession – the atmosphere was strained at times, and by the end even the ebullient Petra Mede seemed to be struggling to keep a smile on her face. Though the winning song wasn't my cup of tea, I'm actually relieved Sweden didn't win again. Yes, really. Switzerland, you're good to go. Good luck.

But this shouldn't mean that there isn't any blogging to be got out of it all, so I'll give it a try while carefully avoiding the elephants (sorry).

Black Sabbath of the year (what, again?): Ireland Back in 2021, I was shocked by the singer from Cyprus apparently taking villain fangirling too far. I guess it's debatable what is worse: the seductive hummability of Cyprus's song back then or this occult shriek-fest. At least Bambi Thug is honest about wanting to be a witch pretty badly. Still, in my book, this is worse. As far as I could make out, Bambi wants to curse their (I think?) ex, and is prepared to snog any demon in order to make it happen. There's a malevolence here that was missing from Cyprus's ditzy groupie in 2021 (plus it's still just possible that the latter was singing about a Mexican bandit). Let's hope that the pentagram was the right way up, because then it's actually supposed to ward off evil spirits.

Misunderstanding of the brief of the year: United Kingdom The UK's song was actually not bad at all, if you closed your eyes. But that number! Look, Eurovision is pretty gay, it's true. But it's gay in a glitzy, Pride Parade, feathers and sparkles kind of way. Not in a groping-guys-in-a-dirty-bathroom kind of way. No-one, gay or straight, wants grimy realism on Eurovision day. That said, zero points from televoters was harsh. It's important to remember that this doesn't mean that no-one voted for the UK, simply that the number didn't make the top ten in any of the voting countries (I'm not sure that's much of a consolation).

Fairy tale of the year: Norway Norway didn't do very well, but at least they made the finals, and as a fairy-tale nerd I'm fascinated by the tale they were singing about. What happened? Did the girl drink her brother's blood? Or did she sensibly decide to simply remain a wolf? I must look it up.

Big cats of the year: Luxemburg Take an upbeat, blissfully mainstream pop song, sung partly in French by a perky, dependable artist, then add gigantic leopards in the light show. What do you get? My favourite Eurovision entry in 2024. The competition may have been full of oddballs this years – the Finn from last year started some sort of trend which will probably be stone dead come 2025 – but this is what tigers like me like.

Intense Big Five artists of the year: France and Germany France's soupy love song was stronger than Germany's forgettable ballad, but both male singers gave it their all and managed to climb to a respectable fourth and twelfth place respectively (you may think twelfth place isn't much to write home about; trust me, for Germany, it is). I hope the traditional French ballad from France trend lasts forever, but of course it won't.

Earworms of the year: Italy and Austria When I found myself humming a song from this year's competition a few days later, it wasn't the ones from Luxemburg or Cyprus (good this year and not witchy) which I actually voted for but Italy's. "Da-da-da-da-da-da La Noia" may be the only line I know, but it certainly sticks in the brain. This, and Austria's "Dum-de-dum-de-dum-dum we will rave". Great artistry? Doubtful. Earworms? Definitely.

Eurovision time – the good, the bad and the loony

It's time for traditional Eurovision blogging – there's no excuse not to, seeing as Sweden actually won this year! I'm pleased, of course. Loreen's number is a little arty for me and not such a favourite as, say, Måns and his "Heroes". But my, can she belt, and she gave the song her all. A deserved win, in my entirely unbiased opinion. Don't ask me to explain the Struwwelpeter nails, though, because I can't.

Here are some other high- and lowlights from this year's competition:

Melodious hunk of the year: Cyprus The half-Australian singer's super-hero physique was enough to provoke a villain-lover like myself: it's guys like this who are usually in for a good Force choke (or similar) from baddies admired by me. But he was a joy to listen to, with a surprising mastery of high notes. Got a vote from me, not that it made much difference to the statistics.

Frank confession of the year: Switzerland "I don't want to be a soldier, soldier/I don't want to fight with real guns" – well, that's a perfectly valid reason to prefer peace to war, though not often brought up in a Eurovision context, where one typically concentrates on everyone getting along and children holding hands while doves fly overhead. I wasn't expecting downright pacifism to go down very well this year, and maybe this is why the fresh-faced Swiss only climbed to the middle of the field voting-wise, in spite of a sweet voice and professional handling of the classic tonal change. I liked it. Clearly, this boy is better singing than fighting material.

Positive national stereotype of the year (again!): France The French chanson "Voilà" did well back in 2021, and now we get more of the same, with no complaints from me. This chanteuse is so typically French you could easily drop her in a soupy mini-series set in World War Two Paris, where she is entertaining the occupying forces while secretly working for the Resistance, right under the nose of the smitten Obersturmbannführer. Can't you just see his monocled aide-de-camp pointing a gun at her while hissing :"I knew you weren't to be trusted, you slut"? Anyway, I'm getting a bit carried away now. Good song.

Slurred, catchy ditty of the year: Norway This is the song that will be stuck in your head a month from now. While it's probably meant to invoke a rider on a white horse clip-clopping through the majestic landscape of Old Dragonia/New Zealand (judging by the singer's fantasy-warrior-queen getup), it reminded me of a sea shanty, and I'm partial to shanties. The diction was far from clear, though, and the girl-power message pretty basic.

WTF numbers of the year that made the rest look good: Croatia and Finland I nearly included the surreal Serbian number as well, but at least it was seriously meant. What can you say about Croatia? Guys in their underwear and makeup chanting something something dictator bad tractor something, is that what counts as satire nowadays? And what's with the Hercule Poirot moustache, what did I miss? As for that Finland guy, he's got a nerve being miffed (allegedly) because he didn't win. I have no idea why he got to the final with his drunken party song, let alone made second place.

What I've realised by now, though, is that these crazy numbers serve their purpose in Eurovision. There have been years that were overstuffed with competent ballads, which made me less appreciative of how well they were sung as I was too bored. This year, out-there numbers I didn't see the point of made me like the Baltic ballads from Estonia and Lithuania more, although they weren't the most exciting songs on offer.

Wasted opportunity of the year: United Kingdom OK, I can see why the Brits would feel despondent towards Eurovision by now. There have been quite a few times since I last speculated on their lack of success where they have sent good, solid pop tunes and still scored a negligible number of points. But they did do well last year, and this year they hosted the whole show on behalf of the winner Ukraine. 

Positives first. The show was amazing (as jury representatives like to point out). Ukraine was let in on the action in the form of co-host Julia Sanina and several song and dance numbers, and British actress Hannah Waddingham (whom I've seen on stage as the Lady of the Lake in Spamalot) was a hoot. I think it's safe to say that UK:s goodwill was built up to a respectable level.

But then came their song, and it was the kind of slapdash, half-ironic number which has served them so poorly in the past. The light show in the background consisted of the singer making quirky faces. What's more, the lyrics weren't very clearly sung, so the advantage of having English as your first language was missed. It's not the worst thing the UK has sent and probably didn't deserve to come second to last, but the Brits should know by now: please don't try kooky irony in Eurovision.

Well, better luck next time. I really want the UK to do better, as I think that would make them more favourably disposed towards the rest of Europe. Not to mention that I want Germany to send a crowd-pleaser next year and, for the first time in forever, not come last. But for now, I'm just happy Sweden won.

The Return of Eurovision

Some traditions are important, so it's time for me to write a Eurovision blog post once again. It's no more than this year's competition deserves, as it returned with a bang, with all the right ingredients and some of the wrong ones. Colourful, eccentric, over-the-top numbers? All present and correct. The Force was strong with this one.

Did the right song win? Nah, but it could have been worse. I didn't think Italy's rock number was very memorable, but it wasn't bad either, and it's nice when one of The Big Five actually makes it to the top. Besides, I didn't really have a clear favourite this year. I liked our neighbours - the Norwegian guy had an appealing singing voice and a touching back story, and the stage show, though awkward, actually had a good excuse to use angel-demon imagery (unlike Cyprus, see below). As rock songs go, I preferred Finland's to Italy's, maybe because it was called "Dark side" (as Yoda said, always two there are - no wait, six?). And I enjoyed the Greek uptempo climbing of invisible stairs, though I can't remember the tune now, and France's ballad. But I can't really say that any song was clearly robbed of victory.

Here are some of numbers that stood out, sometimes for all the wrong reasons:

Black Sabbath of the year: Cyprus.  Not as in the rock group, of which I know nothing, but as in... an actual black sabbath. Annoyingly, the tune was just the kind of Eurovision melody I like: mainstream, upbeat and hummable. But what is the girl singing? OK, maybe she's just fallen for a Mexican bandit with a sinister nickname, or it's all metaphorical or something. But with that stage show - I dunno. We need those church bells from the Walpurgis Night segment in Fantasia, and we need them now.

"Well, this worked before" of the year 1: Russia. Netta from Israel won 2018 with a kooky feminist number, so here's this year's kooky feminist number - from Russia. Um, props to Manizha for being chosen to participate against the odds, I guess, but this really isn't my cup of tea. In fact, I had to mute the TV (because of the singer's voice, not because of the lyrics). Bring back Sergey!

"Well, this worked before" of the year 2: Ukraine. Back in 2016, Ukraine won with a song that had a scream in it. In the same vein, this year's Ukrainian singer had the competition's second muteable voice. Is it really supposed to be so grating? If that's the traditional take, then sorry, I prefer the decadent, westernised numbers of the past, like "Shady Lady" (that was Ukraine, right?). Nice flute, though.

"Get lost dude" song of the year: Malta. Like other songs about robustly turning down a guy's advances, this one was not a little cocky: "I'm too good to be true, but there's nothing in it for you" - oh, OK. Luckily, Malta's Destiny had the voice and verve to carry it off and come across like a girl delighted over having found the confidence to do what she likes rather than an arrogant bitch. But I still feel a bit sorry for the bloke. 

Strip club numbers of the year: Serbia and Azerbaijan. I have to mention Azerbaijan here, as the song is (supposedly) about a precursor to modern-day strippers, femme fatale Mata Hari. (Nice to see World War One German spies get some love.) The number itself was oriental pop - that is "oriental" as imagined in, say, an American mini-series featuring Omar Sharif as a sheik. Surely this was the girl who sang about Cleopatra in the non-competition last year, to a very similar beat? I actually got more strip club vibes from the trio from Serbia, though: their song was mostly something to wriggle along to in daring dresses. Something for the bored boyfriends in the audience, I suppose.

Totally irrelevant question of the year inspired by: Iceland. Nerdily charming, though if we're talking quirky I think I slightly preferred Lithuania. But how in the world can the fresh-faced lead singer in Iceland's band have been married for ten years? How old were he and his wife when they tied the knot, sixteen?

Positive national stereotype of the year: France. The only other Big Five song that did well apart from Italy, and deservedly so. A French chanson so typical it is almost too much - except a French chanteuse can never be too much, not even when crooning "Voilà" over and over. That's right, belle France, this is what we like to see - forget all those hip bands that are supposed to appeal to youths (but don't get their votes). Encore!

Oh, and thank you, Rotterdam, for a fantastic show.

Eurovision 2019: Not too bad

For the first time in years, I've been pretty pumped for Eurovision - both the Swedish heats and the European competition. Not having to worry about your latest villain crush's fate does free up time and energy to engage in more trivial matters. However, I've come to realise that I'll never again be enthusiastic enough to watch all the entries before the semi-finals, which means pre-final blogging pretty much has to take place the same day as the big event. OK then. On the basis of the semi-finals and Youtube clips of the already qualified entries, here are my favourites for this evening:

Sweden: Yeah, I bet you didn't know Sweden had good Gospel singers, did you? But we're multicultural, us. Someone will doubtlessly make fun of the cosmopolitan vibe of this number - the folk song trend is clearly dead - but this, in Eurovision terms, is typically Swedish in the most important way: it's high-quality stuff. John Lundvik has charm in spades, and the choir of seasoned Gospel ladies adds that little bit extra. For the first time in forever (the last time was Måns Zelmerlöw, I think), I'm fully behind Sweden's choice for Eurovision. Lundvik for the win!

Russia: The way I've previously gone on about "You're the Only One", Sergey's entry from 2016, as the song to beat you'd have thought it was from the Beatles. And OK, maybe I have been overselling it a trifle, considering that it contained lyrics like "Thunder and lightning/It's getting exciting", but I really liked it. The song Sergey is competing with this year is not as strong or as hummable, but it's not bad either, and the man's a real pro. A serious contender, who'll probably be kept down by the jury groups (they nobbled his chances of winning back in 2016).

Serbia: I'm growing old, aren't I? The kind of Balkan ballad I found boring twenty years back now strangely appeals to me. Serbia was probably helped by being in the first semi-final which was considerably weaker than the second, but it was my favourite in that one. Nice and melodic.

North Macedonia: On the subject of ballads, this one delivered after a breathy start. If the whole "what will happen to my daughter/s in this uncertain world?" message is a bit too pompously worthy for you, pretend that Cersei from Game of Thrones is singing it. It's what I do.

Czech Republic: I think I like the idea behind this song more than the song itself - the lyrics seem to be about a guy explaining to his jealous girlfriend why he's so pally with the girl next door ("We knew each other when we were both thirteen... there's not much between us now... you know what I mean..."), and that's a witty idea. The song is upbeat, too, which will be welcome in a field where many of the numbers take themselves a mite too seriously.

United Kingdom: Right. This is the test. I'm not expecting the UK to win by any means, but the song is solid (written by Lundvik as it happens - which is a bit awkward as his own song is better), the singer, Michael Rice, is endearing and the video (I haven't seen this one live) was really sweet. It should do decently. If it doesn't, even after the Brits have shaped up their act in this competition for several years in a row, maybe it's time they took drastic action.

It's overblown, its expensive, many of the countries - even the ones you're subsidising - are hostile, and you'll never catch a break from the French. Brits, heed my advice: if you bomb this year as well, maybe you should consider exiting the Eurovision Song Contest.

On the subject of France: I think it's likely that they will win the whole competition this year. Many of the winners of recent years have had a Message that was In Tune With The Times. It's not what I enjoy, but it seems to fly with (extended) Europe's juries and voters. France's earnest inclusivity number will probably hit the spot. And to be fair, they are serious about it - it's not just surfing a trend, and it's not as gimmicky as Israel's winner from last year. (Is it just me who thinks it doesn't sound so bad to be someone's toy? It is, isn't it?)

Nevertheless, I'm still hoping that a good tune, preferably without world-improving overtones, wins this year. Apart from the ones mentioned above, entries from the Netherlands, Estonia and Azerbaijan kept a high standard. Not that I can hum them.

Eurovision 2018 – another snooze

I had trouble with my lack of Eurovision enthusiasm last year, and I’m afraid the trend is still the same – what used to be a reliable guilty pleasure almost feels like a chore this time around. Is it me or is Eurovision becoming boring? All right, it’s still recognisably Eurovision. They still have the spectacles  –  like an opera singer from Estonia with a giant colour-changing dress  –  and hard-pressed commentators who try to put across forced jokes which even the most gifted comedian would have struggled with. But the tunes! As last year, they’re not bad, exactly, just forgettable. Earworms are conspicuously absent. C’mon, a good chorus and a good singer – is that so very hard to find? I watched the first semifinal and caught up with the second semifinal’s songs on Youtube, which is really not the ideal medium to hear them. Who knows, if they could bring back the Eurovision panel to Swedish TV, which reviewed ten songs or so at a time in a series of hour-long programmes scheduled on Tuesday nights when nothing else was on, then maybe I could start to view Eurovision-prep as worthwhile entertainment again. As it is, whenever I saw on Youtube that a song went on for more than three minutes, I got impatient in advance.

Enough complaining. These songs are the ones that I’ve found passable so far (I’m excluding songs that didn’t make it to the final):

Norway: Back in the day, I was actually not as impressed with Alexander Rybak’s “Fairytale” as everyone else. Now, because of its mildy prophetic content, it has risen in my estimation, and I often torture my neighbours by yowling “He’s a fairy-ta-a-a-le, yeah” (a change of pronoun being necessary in this case). Trust me, it is very hummable.

Rybak’s entry for this year is lively and upbeat, but the content is a little on the cutesy side – even I, who normally have a high tolerance level for cutesiness, thought it a bit much. The song is written as an answer to an eager young fan’s question about how to write a song. There’s something children’s-programme-like about it in consequence, and the chorus is consciously simple, like something you could throw together on a synthesizer. Not pure gold, then, but not straw either.

Denmark: It’s easy to mock the Ye Olde Nordic Pop-Tune Genre, where the songs sound like the kind of thing vikings might have sung if they’d had Karaoke. The over-earnestness of the Danish group of ancient warrior types made me smile, but the number did sound nice and melodic. I wouldn’t mind if our neighbours won with this one.

Austria: Again, not something you sing in the shower. Still, this was a solid, well-sung ballad, which builds towards some sort of crescendo.

Australia: Out of this year’s batch of “let’s make the world better” songs, this struck me as the most competent. The Aussies are taking pains to send radio-friendly ballads to Eurovision every year since they were allowed on board, which shows a nice spirit. Like Austria’s number, though, this is a little dull.

Moldova: it was because of ballad fatigue, but this uptempo number cheered me up. Granted, it sounds a lot like one of those Greek-dance-on-the-beach tunes – I’ve not seen the song performed live, but you almost expect a goat to show up on stage, along with enthusiastically clapping girls in colourful headscarves. We’ll see.

Aaand… that’s it, basically. Sweden’s entry this year sounds like something playing in the background of a commercial, or maybe something leather-clad guys might strip to. Germany’s song isn’t an embarrassment, thankfully, but I’d be surprised if it was a winner. Who knows, maybe next year we’ll get to hear a new “You’re The Only One”.

Eurovision: Ballads, ballads everywhere, and scarcely a tune to hum

Here we go, then. I confess I haven't really been able to fire up my usual interest in Eurovision - neither the Swedish heats nor the European competition - this time around. I hope that it's a passing thing and not a sign I'm getting too old to enjoy what used to be a sure-fire mood lifter for the winter and spring months, when there's usually precious little else happening on the TV front. Perhaps one reason for my comparative lack of interest is the songs themselves: there are few really bad ones, but on the other hand there are few that really make an impression. Swedish TV scrapped its traditional panel programme reviewing of the Eurovision songs this year, which meant I had to catch up on them on Youtube. I started out optimistically, but after about the tenth competent but unmemorable power ballad I began to feel bored. Call me old-fashioned, but a good pop tune in my view really should have a hummable chorus. I still know the tune of the chorus of "Rise Like a Phoenix", which goes to show there was more to Conchita than that beard.

Still, I've managed to find a few contenders I quite liked the sound of. Caveat one: some of these I have not heard live yet, and they may sound better on video. Caveat two: 42 songs are a lot: I may have missed some really obvious star number in the power ballad flood.

United Kingdom: Maybe it's because this was the first Eurovision song I heard (excepting the serviceable but bland Swedish one), maybe it's my britophilia, maybe it's the just-about-applicable-to-villain-situation message ("I'll never give up on you" - attagirl). Anyway, I believe this is my favourite among the ballads. I know it's too late to ease diplomatic relations by giving the UK points - unlike last year - and the bewildering half-rhymes would be more understandable from a country where English is not the first language. Nevertheless, this is a good tune. Let's cut the limeys some slack this year.

The Netherlands: Speaking of pep talks, here are three babes in the wood (enchanted?) singing a tremendously supportive song. If the girls manage to sing in harmony as well live as they do on video (update: they did) this should be worth listening to.

France: Gosh, it's a beautiful language, isn't it? I can forgive a little English in the chorus. Moreover, the video was shot in Paris, and made me dance around a bit. Much depends on how well the singer does live, but if she delivers, this is a sweet swinger of a song.

Cyprus: Finally, a hummable chorus! The song is written by a Swedish Eurovision pro, and it shows. The number may not be as polished as Russian Sergey's "You're the Only One" last year, which was in the same genre, but it will serve.

Switzerland and Estonia are two maybes: in Switzerland's case, though I did get tired of the number before the video was through, it was professionally done and sung, plus I was intrigued as to where Apollo - the name of the song - fitted into the whole thing. Ever since I got Apollo (Apollon?) as the Greek god I most resembled on a Facebook test, I've had a particular sympathy for the Olympos straight guy. Not everyone can be Hermes-like and mischievous. In Estonia's case, we get a duet - which makes for a nice change - a classic Eurovision sound and references, albeit somewhat confusing, to Romeo and Juliet. But again, the song outstays its welcome somewhat.

So there we are: not that bad, when you come to think of it. I have no idea who could win this year, and it may very well be none of the above. The boy from Australia (yes, they're back) is a real looker and sings well, but let's be honest: the song is a snooze. Then again, I didn't see last year's winner coming, either.  

Eurovision follow-up and ways of wasting time

Nope, sorry, I don't understand it either. Britain was robbed - not of a victory, perhaps, but of a place among the top ten, or at least somewhere mid-field. The Brits did everything they could this year - at least everything I would have recommended - and still ended up third last in the Eurovision Song Contest. I voted for them (and for Poland: yes, you can do that), but it didn't help much.

It's a pity, because a little pro-European spirit in the UK would have been welcome about now. As they say in Star Wars: I have a bad feeling about this. Um, maybe we could let them win at football, or something?

What of the winner, then? Well, I didn't see that one coming. There's nothing wrong with Ukrainian Jamala's voice, nor her sincerity, but worthiness aside, this is a song with a scream in it - albeit a well-modulated one. Not something you'll find yourself humming in the shower, then. But we've had worse winners (Hard Rock Hallelujah, anyone?) and for that matter worse songs with screams in them in this competition. What's more, I had no real hope Sweden would win this year - I'm not sure we could afford it, for one thing - and Germany didn't deserve to (I'm not complaining about that last place - cripes). So congratulations Ukraine, and good luck with the, er, diplomatic aftermath.

On the plus side, Swedish Frans did really well - better than I'd expected - and Poland and Austria were favourites with the televoters, which rescued them from the bottom of the list. Russian Sergey got most of the popular votes, which was only fair. The Swedes put on a great show, Petra Mede shone again, and the parody of a typical winning Eurovision song in the mid-act was particularly funny. The overall quality of the competing songs was high: I may even buy the CD. All in all, not a bad Eurovision year.

The Eurovision froth was welcome, as I'm not in the mood for straining any cultural muscles at the moment, either in my reading or in my television viewing. I've given up on two historical crime novels lately and settled instead for a rereading (Jude Morgan's Passion, which I haven't written about specifically but still feels like blog ground already covered - it's great, though) and Discworld novel number four (Mort, promising, especially as Death is one of my favourite Discworld characters). As for TV, I haven't really put my back into finding some new addictive TV series. Increasingly, I find other ways of wasting my time when off duty. Watching YouTube clips is a real time bandit: it's hard to resist intelligent if nerdy twentysomething males presenting well-argued theories on such subjects as Pixar films and Disney princesses (yes really). Not to mention Top Ten lists with a villain theme, where I continually make the mistake of taking a look at too general lists where not a single one of the baddies on offer is personally known to me. Perniciously, these clips tend to be 7-15 minutes long, so you don't really register how time passes. You think "just one more", and suddenly, there's a whole hour gone.

For more concentrated time-wasting, watching The Clone Wars  on Netflix is preferable. It has no artistic or educational value and does not improve your mind one jot. It's too dull for kids and should be way too silly for grown-ups. But each episode is only about twenty minutes long, and the feeling that you have spent twenty minutes being no earthly use to anyone is oddly uplifting. I was even moved to do a modest stint of housework after one Clone session, muttering "every tuft of dust must be destroyed" in General Grievous-like tones in an effort to make hoovering feel less of a drag. Sadly, it didn't work.

Eurovision: A for effort to the UK (but Russia will probably win)

There's no doubting that Russia wants to win the Eurovision Song Contest. Year after year, they send blissfully mainstream, ultra-professional numbers that have me humming along reluctantly while fearing that my own mother country will be bested. (The bread-baking old ladies were a different but equal kind of threat.) And since it's only a matter of time until they win (again), maybe this year is as good a time as any. I don't think Sweden stands a chance  - Frans is a sweet lad and the lyrics are clever, but I suspect the song is too low-key for massive European appeal - and the less said about Germany's entry, the better. Whereas Russia's ditty "You're the Only One", well-sung by the iceberg-climbing Sergey, is so catchy it has me jigging in my seat. Plus it's not about world peace, thankfully.

I can't help wondering, though, if the powers that be in Russia have really thought this through. Yes, "Russia wins Eurovision" would be great PR. "Eurovision fan arrested for waving rainbow flag" - not so much. For the Russian authorities, hosting this competition will be tricky to say the least - a little like hosting a multinational dog show in a country where the promotion of keeping pets is prohibited. Ah well, when there's a will, there's a way, and my goodness there's a will.

And it's not like the race is run yet; there are other strong contenders for the Eurovision crown. Here are a few (though please note that I've only heard the music video for some of them):

United Kingdom: Wouldn't it be marvellous if Britain won? Think about it: the timing really couldn't be better. Also, they've sent a good solid pop tune this year, professionally executed by two boyband-cute guys, without any archness or irony. To be honest, the song isn't my absolute favourite, but providing the boys don't tank completely live, I'm tempted to vote for them anyway. This kind of responsible Eurovision behaviour from the Brits should be encouraged and reinforced.

Azerbaijan: (yes, I've checked the spelling): There could be more power in the singing, but this is classic toe-tapping Eurovision fare. I wouldn't mind working out to this tune.

Austria: Far away, apparently, there is a lovely country, where they sing, and there are waving flowers on the ground... Yes, this number is extremely treacly. I suspect there are more hard-hitting My Little Pony cartoons. Having said that, the girl sings sweetly in beautiful French (do they speak French anywhere in Austria? The Alps, maybe?) and it's a real earworm.

Poland: The verse is a little dull, but I love the "Oh-oh-oh-oh" refrain, which in the video at least sounds really great. The rock power ballad vibe and suitably hirsute singer make me think of Queen.

Australia: Much as I love Eurovision, I don't think I'd watch it in the middle of the night. For this dedication alone, the Australians deserve to participate a second time around. Also, they sent a really strong entry last year, and here they are again with another winner - a ballad that no music radio channel would have to feel ashamed about airing. If the Aussies become a permament Eurovision fixture, I for one wouldn't grumble. But if they win, which country will they team up with when it comes to holding the competition next year? It would have to be a really good loser to allow another country to celebrate its victory and host a show on their soil.

Other possibles are the guy from Hungary, who wouldn't look out of place down a Cornwall tin mine, the rockers from Cyprus (I'm a sucker for a wolf-themed number) and the girl from Belgium who's just like something out of Fame. Let battle commence.

Reasons to be cheerful

Where did May go? Weather-wise and workload-wise, it has been more like a grey September than the height of spring. Furthermore, my Downton withdrawal symptoms have reached the point where watching old episodes only makes the agony worse. But it's wrong to be glum when there are quite a few things to be happy about.

Firstly, Sweden won Eurovision! I'm extra glad as I have a soft spot for the singer Måns Zelmerlöw, who comes from my neck of the woods (but no, we're not acquainted). He's a great performer and, as various interviews have proved, relentlessly charming under pressure. True, he has sung catchier tunes than "Heroes" - if you ever hear "Cara Mia", you won't be able to get it out of your head for a week - but it's a good, solid song for all that. And girls, just so you know - Måns isn't gay, or wasn't last time I looked in a gossip mag, anyway.

Commiserations to the Brits, but I'm afraid "I'm Still In Love With You" had two flaws that are absolute Eurovision poison - it was arch and contrived. Try sincerity next time. If it's any consolation to the British (and knowing them, it will be) France and Germany did even worse - Germany and the hosting country Austria both got nul points. In Germany's case, the failure was deserved, though I still feel sorry for the German singer who, by virtue of being just the runner-up in the national competition (the winner shamefully dropped out), was put in what Victorian novels would call a "false position". There was nothing wrong with France's power ballad, however, which only proves that yes, Eurovision can be unfair. At least the points are decided by telephone voting and juries now, which should be good news for those quite-nice-but-not-winner-songs.

A second reason for happiness is the rumours about a new costume drama on BBC, featuring Dickens characters - yes, characters from different Dickens novels interacting with each other! Does this mean that there are more people out there who spend their time constructing dream scenarios where, say, Ralph Nickleby and Miss Havisham discuss love and betrayal or Carker, as member of a special Dickensian villain club, tries to chat up Miss Wade while being served drinks by Littimer? OK, so other people's Dickens fantasy scenarios may be a little less villain-populated than that, but it's immensely cheering all the same that I'm not alone harbouring thoughts like these. I'm not certain that this series will have a very large audience, but the audience it does have - including me - is sure to love it. Most of us will feel a pang of envy towards the lucky scriptwriter, though. I've never forgiven the BBC for axing their Dombey and Son adaptation, but if Carker makes an appearance in this series, I will at least consider it.

Meanwhile, I hear ITV will broadcast a series about the early life of Queen Victoria. What with the TV series Victoria and Albert and, later, the film The Young Victoria, this is not untrodden ground in costume-drama land. It sounds promising even so, especially as the scriptwriter is Daisy Goodwin, who wrote the page-turning historical novels My Last Duchess and The Fortune Hunter. It appears there will be life after Downton. Maybe.

Why the British don't do better in Eurovision - an anglophile's theories

This weekend, Swedish Television broadcast the BBC programme/concert celebrating the 60th "birthday" of Eurovision. And it was lovely. I'm not just saying this because one of the hosts was Sweden's own Petra Mede. Everything about this show was just right. The entries were well chosen (though I could have done without "Hard Rock Hallelujah"). The singers were professional down to their fingertips and gave strong performances, even though their Eurovision successes were often decades in the past. It was affecting to see, for instance, a bearded hippie type who proudly displayed his hairy chest back in the Sixties metamorphosed into a dapper old gentleman. The Herreys have lost their sunny locks - one is completely bald - but they still know their act. The production was lavish, and the audience endlessly appreciative. It was a warm and enthusiastic British tribute to Eurovision.

If you thought that last phrase sounded a bit stilted, it's because once in my life I wanted to put the words "warm", "enthusiastic", "British" and "Eurovision" in the same sentence. Because this is not exactly what we're used to, is it? As a Eurovision fan and an admirer of old Blighty, I'm concerned about how seldom the two go together. The Brits treat Eurovision with contempt; the other participating countries retaliate by hardly giving any votes to the UK, which makes the Brits even more negatively inclined towards the competition. It's a vicious circle.

So why exacty do the British songs fare so badly in Eurovision? They're not as bad as that, surely? Here are a few theories:

The sneering. There are a lot of anglophiles out there. (Yes, we like Scotland and Wales too, though England takes centre stage in our obsessions, I'm afraid. And we're still a bit unnerved by Northern Ireland.) We love Sherlock and Downton Abbey. We love tea and scones, Winnie the Pooh, Shakespeare, Dickens, Austen, the Brontës, London, double-deckers, men in bowler hats and expressions no modern Englishman ever uses like "I say". But we hate, we positively hate the national vice: sneering. Maybe I've been unlucky, but almost every English article I've read on Eurovision has been full of it. Not affectionate irony and leg-pulling which is a stock-in-trade when you report from Eurovision but cold, contemptuous criticism with not a single positive word about any of the songs, the singers or the arrangements. According to these articles, the competition is rubbish, the other participants are rubbish, and the countries they come from are pretty rubbish too.

This is not the way to win hearts and minds. The Limeys may think we don't understand British humour: well, we do (Monty Python is another anglophile favourite). At least we understand enough to know when the joke's on us.

Songs by committee. Remember when the UK invested in a talent show in order to find the right Eurovision participant? It was called Your Country Needs You. The song which was to be performed was written by Andrew Lloyd Webber, who then personally accompanied the winning songbird on the piano. We liked that in Europe. It showed the Brits making an effort. The British entry didn't win, but it did well.

This is what they should do every year. Well, OK, they can't use the Andrew Lloyd Webber gambit every year, but they should have a popular competition not only about the singer/group but about the song as well. As it is, in the latest years some Beeb pundits have thrown together some ingredients which they think might go down well in Europe ("Bonnie Tyler's big in Germany") but which have not been tested on a real audience.

Great expectations. "Is the country of The Beatles really sending this?" is a standard comment in the Swedish TV show that reviews the Eurovision entries beforehand. Sometimes having a great pop reputation as a country is a drawback. We expect the best pop has to offer, which is a far cry from what we get. What is considered a decent number from Estonia would be a lot more critically viewed if it came from the UK. Unfair, but true.

The phone votes. I'm surprised that there hasn't been more said about the fundamental difference between jury voting and phone voting in Eurovision. Back in the days of juries, you could award points for effort. A likeable song that didn't quite make the winner grade could still scrape together a decent result and avoid the shame of "nul points". However, when you phone in your vote, you only vote for the song which in your view should win the whole competition. This is why we Swedes are silly to become upset when we only get four points from Norway. They didn't "fob us off" with four points: a percentage of the population corresponding to four points in the voting system thought our song was the very best. Many of the UK's songs have been quite nice, ever since they abandoned the horrible "jokey numbers". (Remember that aeroplane one? Honestly, what do they take us for?) But with the new phone voting system practiced in most countries, sadly, quite nice is simply not good enough.

I'm not saying that if the UK adopts the Swedish model of a national TV competition, everything will automatically be hunky dory. Apparently, they have had these kind of competitions in the past, and the results haven't always been breathtaking. As for Sweden, for all its careful, popularly approved song selection it hit a bad patch a few years back in Eurovision, though until this day I can see nothing wrong with catchy tunes like Las Vegas, Hero and The Worrying Kind. But if the Brits were to try the national competition way again and honestly tried to select the best song instead of some joke act, at least they can say that they did their best. If they still fail, then they can sneer if they like.      

Beards and bestsellers

This spring has been tough blog-wise. Mini-flus, colds, headaches, broadband installations and, I suppose, the odd moment of general laziness have had a sad effect on the number of entries written. As a case in point, it is not until now that I find myself ready to broach the subject of this year's Eurovision Song Contest which ended weeks back.

This was a satisfying Eurovision year. Not only did Sweden reach an honourable third place, I liked the winning song too. In some ways, it illustrates why I'm so fond of the contest. Forget cool, edgy music and the latest fancy trends. Instead, the winning song was a resoundly old-fashioned power ballad - belted out beautifully by a bearded drag queen.

Yes, I admit it, I was bemused by the beard. Drag acts are not that uncommon in the Swedish qualifying heats for the competition: this year, we had a bouncy number where the guys' pins were definitely better-looking than mine (admittedly, not difficult). However, these cross-dressers tend to look as fetching and feminine as possible, which made me think that this was partly the point. A beard kind of spoils the womanly effect. Still, what do I know: doubtless my confusion is what the Dowager Countess would call "provincial". And the beard proved a useful diversion. If, say, the svelte Spanish lady singer would have competed with a Bond anthem-style ballad and won, the critics would have been up in arms the next day about the continuing uncoolness of Eurovision. As it was, there was benign talk of a "victory for tolerance". Even hostile reactions tended to center on the beard to such a degree that the little detail of the dress was quite overlooked. We got the absurd situation of protesters shaving off their beards - a symbol of manliness - in order to look less like a drag queen. The Austrian singer Conchita Wurst (stage name, naturally - I'm not sure Wurst was good idea) must be thinking: "Result!".

Moving on, in a not very smooth transition, from singing queens to femmes fatales. I've been scandalously unadventurous on the book front lately. Hardly had I finished Destiny than I ordered and started reading yet another of Sally Beauman's novels. I did try something else by another author at first - an Edwardian whodunnit awash with noblemen but disappointingly short of women for them to squabble over - but I kept longing to get back to well-written family-saga land. Consequently, I'm now well into Beauman's Dark Angel. I don't like it quite as much as Destiny, because I have predictable problems with the dark angel in question and above-mentioned femme fatale, Constance Shawcross. The family on which she preys is so essentially likeable - if flawed - that I just wish Constance would snap out of her bitterness concerning her truly disgusting father's demise (he may have been dispatched by one of the family members - but then again maybe not) and get on with life without causing too much unnecessary harm. On the other hand, that wouldn't make much of a novel, would it? Even as I wince while anticipating Constance's next move, I keep turning the pages. Without doubt, Beauman is this year's find.                  

Short Eurovision lowdown - plus scraping the Wilkie Collins barrel

I don't feel up to much Eurovision blogging this time round. I was planning to do a review of the semi-finals and the finals and award prizes like "love triangle of the year" (Azerbaijan - both the crooner and his girl seemed more interested in the dancer in the box than each other), "vampire of the year" (Romania's answer to Farinelli), "stylish V-lizard-inspired fashion statement of the year" (Norway), "bad loser of the year" (guess - I'm not talking about the singer here but about her country's endlessly charming press) etc. However, the party's over now and my enthusiasm for the subject has nearly faded away. But hey, wasn't it an amazing show? I don't care that our boy-singer didn't get a better result: he did a respectable job with a song I personally didn't like much, and we didn't make fools of ourselves. The contests were professionally organised and hosted, and if the humour was a little strained sometimes, it was still P.G. Wodehouse compared to normal Eurovision standards. At last, one of my new year wishes came true!

On the reading front, I have come through one of my impulse-bought family sagas, which turned out to be more of a Catherine Cookson-inspired, heroine-faces-up-to-grim-destiny-and-wins-through-up-north tale. It wasn't a disaster, but neither was it brilliant. I suspect Cooksonish stories are most enjoyable in TV form (but then they are very enjoyable). I needed a safe card after that, and so I picked a fairly early novel by Wilkie Collins, Hide and Seek.

I'm well read-up on Collins by now. I've read his most famous novels (The Woman in White, The Moonstone), the ones experts think should be more famous (Armadale, No Name), the almost-as-famous as the almost-famous ones (Man and Wife, Poor Miss Finch), novels generally considered to be also-rans (The Law and The Lady, The Dead Secret) and some of his shorter fiction, like No Thoroughfare which he co-wrote with Dickens. Enough bragging: the simple reason I keep returning to Collins is that he's such a good writer. Even a Collins also-ran is more interesting and more vivaciously written than many modern authors' best efforts. I have to say, however, that so far Hide and Seek is the weakest of the Collins novels I've read. I even liked The Moonstone more - which is saying something, as that book is a bit of a bug-bear of mine.

Collins's language is lively here as elsewhere: he knows how to freshen up descriptive and getting-from-A-to-B passages with flashes of humour, and he takes care of his secondary characters. The problem is, if Collins can do charming and engaging characters, he can also do very annoying ones. The main characters in Hide and Seek, if not as annoying as, say, Sir Patrick in Man and Wife or just about every protagonist in The Moonstone, are nevetheless on the irritating side. This may be because, for once in Collins, they are dangerously close to being stereotypes. The story of how the Philantropic Painter Valentine Blyth rescues the Beautiful Child Mary aka "Madonna" from a Dastardly Circus Owner reminded me of the melodrama acted by a group of itinerant players in the Lucky Luke adventure The White Knight (I'll probably return to this adventure at a later date, if ever I blog about what I call the "Lucky Luke audience syndrome" - confusing actors with the characters they play). It is such a basic and shamelessly button-pushing plot - good man, bad man, innocent child - as to be ridiculous. Back at home, the Philantropic Painter has a Bravely Long-Suffering Invalid Wife. The Beautiful Child grows up to be a Good and Beautiful Woman and, what do you know, she bears her fate with courage and good humour too (she's deaf and dumb as a result of a riding accident in the circus). She falls in love with a Good-hearted but Wayward Youth. Please, enough!

The other plot strand so far - how the strict upbringing of Mary's object of affection Zack has turned him wayward, in spite of himself - is even less interesting than the saccharine Blyth household. Strange how even plot-lines meaning to show that you shouldn't be too moralistic can stick in your craw if they're over-didactic. I saw from a glance at the Introduction that Hide and Seek is often compared to Dickens's Hard Times. I look forward to reading more about this once I've finished the book (you should never read an Introduction unless you already know what's going to happen in the novel). For all the surface differences - good circus owner versus bad circus owner, taking a circus girl away from the troop as a doubtful project versus taking her away as an unequivocal good thing (even if it means tearing her away from her foster mother), the perils of an over-scientific education versus the perils of an over-evangelical one - the two novels have a fault in common in my view. They are trying to prove their point or points at the expense of character complexity.

I'm not giving up yet, though - I have hopes that Hide and Seek will become more exciting in the second part of the book, the one called "Seeking". The opening chapter of this part is called "The Man with the Black Skull-Cap". Good. I like skull-caps.          

The Sarah Jane Adventures - Doctor Who surrogate™

It's time for objectifying again. While watching a singer in one of Sweden's many Eurovision Song Contest heats (the Swedish final is next week - let's hope we don't send the joker with the diaper), I caught myself murmuring appreciatingly "what a complete muffin". Sadly, he didn't qualify for the final. Never mind - the view was nice while it lasted, and the song was quite catchy too.

The expression "complete muffin" for good-looking male is one I've learned from the Doctor Who spin-off The Sarah Jane Adventures. After having waited for months for the DVD release of the 2012 Doctor Who Christmas special (for pity's sake, we're in March now!), I finally gave up, overcame my shame in trying on something that has been so clearly labelled as a kids' programme, and ordered the first series of Sarah Jane. I needn't have waited so long. Yes, the storylines are simpler, the setting is earthbound - no leaps in time or space - and the aliens somewhat naffer than in the original, plus Sarah Jane has kid sidekicks rather than adult companions like the Doctor. But the writing is still good, and the spirit is the same as in the original series. No need for a Doctor fan to be ashamed of watching this.

That the spirit of the original is preserved is especially important. This is where the "adult" Torchwood, with its pessimism (even the exuberant Captain Jack seemed down in the mouth), misanthropy and bickering characters failed so miserably. Yes, true, I only saw half a season of Torchwood, but what I've read about it since seems to confirm that this is a series for doom-mongers. Now, Sarah Jane, like Doctor Who, touches on serious issues occasionally, but never lets them spoil your evening. The total impression is life-, earth- and human-affirming. The kid sidekicks are good and bring different skills to the team. Sarah Jane, the ex-companion turned investigative journalist, is an endearing heroine. On the whole, what's not to like?

I've always had a soft spot for the "meet the companion" Doctor Who episodes, and Sarah Jane exploits the same mechanisms in highlighting everyday phenomena that, somewhere in our unconscious, we find a bit weird, if not downright scary. In the first episode - still the best I've seen after the first three adventures - the aliens du jour try to bring humankind down by way of a soft drink, "Bubble Shock". From the first time we see one of the kid sidekicks watching a bright and cheerful commercial for the drink, we get an eerie sense that something isn't right. It pinpoints just how, well, spacey soft-drink commercials can be. All those bouncing, wide-awake youngsters. In the right context, definitely scary, as is the special "Bubble Shock" bus. It's free but requires its passengers to a tour of the soft-drink factory, where they are enticed into drinking free samples by a teenage-heartthrob guide (that's where the "muffin" comes in). Yep, it's a kids' adventure - a bit "Five defeat the aliens" - but a well-thought-out one with shades of the Pied Piper and Hansel and Gretel. I wondered if the bus was an over-the-top detail - would no-one really question a bus that's for free? - but then I read about the Google bus, so, well, I guess it happens.

The other two adventures I've seen so far don't quite measure up to the first one, but are enjoyable just the same, though one contained my least favourite Doctor Who aliens of all time, the Slitheen. The third adventure gave me a slight déjà-vu feeling as it reminded me of the Doctor Who episode "Tooth and Claw", which isn't one of my favourites anyway. Substitute scary monks with scary nuns, werewolf alien for Gorgon alien, Victorian Scotland for modern-day England, and there you are. As a Protestant, I do see how nuns and monks can be perceived as scary - even, sometimes, by Catholics - but one thing I would not accuse them of is switching their allegiances easily. Even in a sci-fi context, it's a bit of a big ask to see them as protecters of a hostile alien entity once, never mind twice. However, Phyllida Law is watchable as the confused old woman in an old people's home who holds the key to the mystery, and let's face it: an old people's home is another vaguely unsettling everyday phenomenon. Think By the Pricking of my Thumbs by Agatha Christie.

The next episode promises to involve laser domes. Again, something just a bit anxiety-inducing - great fun, I'm sure, but I wouldn't be that surprised if aliens were involved in them somehow.        

Wishes for the new year

Today, anything too tiring blog-wise is right out. It's December and my holiday starts tomorrow, which means I'm in my all-too-usual, pre-Christmas, I-don't-want-to-work-anymore grump. But a wish list is fairly easy. All I want (or some of them anyway) for the new year cultural-consumption-wise is:

A new villain (or several) Obviously, always. I'm not complaining, mind. It's not exactly been a villain-free year, though I have sometimes felt like the protagonist in some fin-de-siècle cautionary tale, in search of ever more depraved kicks. I comfort myself with the fact that however far I fall, the low point was already reached years and years ago with Monsieur Lheureux in Madame Bovary (though he was admirably mean to the ghastly Madame, no-one can call him glamorous). The main reason I'm always on the lookout for new villains is I want to be reassured that there are still new ones to discover out there. I can't quite get over  the unhappy suspicion that there will never be another villain-writer like Dickens. Which leads me to point two:

A new Dickens TV adaptation I know, that is never going to happen. They did Great Expectations and The Mystery of Edwin Drood this year and there was all the extra Dickens publicity about the bicentenary, which means the Beeb will probably want to, in the charming phrase of a few years' back, "take a rest from Dickens". There's always ITV, but they'll never risk adapting any of the lesser-known novels. And it's the lesser-known novels I would really like done: Dombey and Son, above all, but also Barnaby Rudge. Imagine what a great Sir John Charles Dance would be! And then he'd have a hat trick in Dickens villains: Tulkinghorn, Ralph Nickleby and Sir John Chester. Ah, what a trio.

If not Dickens, then at least lots and lots of new costume dramas I very much hope that the BBC has learnt its lesson by now, after that disastrous period when they consciously avoided "bonnet dramas". Then ITV's Downton Abbey happened and became a smash hit, and the BBC was left looking rather silly. I see signs that they've thrown in the towel and are now desperately trying to catch up with their commercial rival. There was Parade's End which the critics loved, and The Paradise which they hated. I look forward to watching both and am wishing for more try-to-catch-the-Downton-crowd dramas. And while on this subject:

Dan Stevens signing up for a fourth series of Downton All right, I promised not to Downton-blog until after Christmas, but just a teeny-weeny bit, without giving anything away? And yes, I know Stevens is the one playing Matthew. So, do I suddenly have a thing for Matthew now? Ha, no fear!

The reason for this wish is that I've heard the rumour that Stevens hasn't signed up for series four of Downton Abbey yet, and I'm worried about what this will mean for the future of the series. I can understand if he hesitates. There was only ever talk of three series at the start: I remember it well. But now a fourth series is on the way, and it looks like Downton could run and run, but only if it keeps its act together. And the centre of this act is the main plotline, what could be called The Heir's Tale.

Matthew may not have turned out to be the middle-class champion I'd hoped for when he first came on the scene in series one. The Downton set had him house-trained in a trice. There was much caustic talk among TV reviewers about how little time he spent in the trenches, but at least he's spent more time there than in his lawyer's office - now, the estate appears to be his full-time job, and he is as gentrified as anything, even to the point of being snooty to Sir Richard Carlisle. Having said that, the main plot of Downton, the one all the other plots are latched on to, is how Matthew faces up to his inheritance, and how his romance - now marriage - to the present Earl's daughter Lady Mary will work out. Just because I (normally) don't fall in love with heroes doesn't mean I don't appreciate the way they keep things together. After all, you can't have David Copperfield without David Copperfield. No, you really can't.

New novels by favourite authors This is the up-side of having authors like Morgan and Fforde on one-book-a-year-contracts (well, I assume they are, anyway). From Fforde, what I wish for most - as always - is another Thursday Next novel. It is greedy of me, because we had one this year - The Woman who Died a Lot. Wonderful read as always, but sadly there were no BookWorld outings this time. Not even a visit from the Emperor Zhark. So, next time, some fiction-fun please, preferably not all relating to the Dark Reading Matter - I'd like adventures in/about books that are actually read. I want some more!

More Doctor Who Of course. And stop splitting the series up - send it in one go, so I can get proper whole-series box sets.

Sweden doing really well in the Eurovision Song Contest but not necessarily winning again - I don't think we can afford it. And, naturally, I hope that we put on "a fantastic show".
  
            

Half-way through...

It feels like a bit of a come-down, this - to go from writing about Donna Tartt to making the obvious point that we risk being beaten in the Eurovision Song Contest by a gang of babuschkas. But what can I do? The week hasn't exactly been full of cultural highlights. And the things I have read/watched, I'm still in the middle of. Some bitty thoughts, then, on the week's events:

Less than half-way through the Eurovision Song Contest: Of course, there is a lot you can be sneering about in connection with this contest: most of all its package which always appears to be the same, irrespective of host country. There seems to be no way around the moment when two or three presenters holler "Hello Europe!" and then engage in leaden banter in more or less accented English. I always thought the script-writers were the ones at fault, but the blame must be shared by the presenters themselves who, as often as not, read their lines rather than say them and have no sense of timing whatsoever. I could see one of the first jokes in the first semi-final coming from miles off, but I was prepared to chuckle good-naturedly over it. But the exaggerated pause before the punch line and unenthusiastic delivery prevented me from doing even that. "You can see we're in for an evening of hilarity", the Swedish commentator quipped drily. While on the subject of timing, the vote-gathering - which mercifully we only get in the final - tends to be the very worst part of the show. We're in for thirty-six variations of the following dialogue:

HOST: Hello Moscow/Paris/Stockholm/wherever!
COUNTRY PRESENTER [Gushingly, after a pause]: Hello X! Thank you for an amazing show! You guys are marvellous!
HOST [Smiling rigidly]: Thank you. [Somewhat sharply, after another pause] May we have your votes, please?
COUNTRY PRESENTER [A bit put out, because he/she had the votes ready all the time, but was waiting for some kind of cue]: Of course. Here are the results of the Y vote...

I know it must be difficult to keep the voting going smoothly - but surely, after all these years, there must be some kind of trick? And then, these latest years, the contest has started to adopt bewildering "mottos". Last year in Germany it was something about heartbeats. This year it's "Light your fire". Er... wait, you mean we should light our own fires? In front of the telly?

One should go easy on the sneering, though. The songs are often not half-bad, and most importantly, sneerers never prosper in Eurovision. It's one thing I love about this contest. It stands up for what it is, and if you don't like it you don't have to watch, or participate. If you do participate, don't expect people to find an arrogant approach hip and admirable. Almost each year, the Brits complain bitterly about not getting more votes. Well, what do they expect? The British comments on Eurovision I've read tend to be a mixture of vitriol and patronising head-patting, as if they were witnessing a distant tribe's picturesque but faintly disturbing sacrificial rites. My guess is that this has caused them no end of damage over the years - that and the admittedly unfairly high expectations we have of British pop groups. Each year, we hope for the new Beatles to turn up.

The reason I think the Russian little old ladies will beat us, in spite of the song not being great and the ladies not being the world's best singers, is the Granny Factor - it's hard not to go "awww" when one beaming babuschka wields a baking-plate of cookies (or maybe wholesome Russian bread). Importantly, though, the number also has a ring of sincerity. Kooky numbers which are engineered to make fun of the whole show are soon weeded out, but if you are sincere, a certain amount of kookiness goes down well with European voters.

I still hope a really good singer will win, though - we're not picking Europe's cuddliest grannies, after all. What about our Loreen and her soaring refrain, now wouldn't she be a worthy winner? Oh, did I mention that Swedes take Eurovision very, very seriously?

Half-way through The Mystery of Edwin Drood (the TV adaptation): Very promising, this, and much closer to its source than the Great Expectations adaptation was. The worst parts of Rosa's pert speeches have been wisely cut, and Tamzin Merchant who plays her makes her as charming as she can. Not quite charming enough for one to understand the amount of male interest she receives, though, but this is Dickens's fault. It would be more understandable if everyone went off the deep end about Edwin. The arrogant youth is played by Freddie Fox, who is strikingly good-looking. Are luminously pretty Dickens heroes becoming a trend? Pip (Douglas Booth) in Great Expectations was such a looker that some reviewers ungallantly complained he unbalanced the narrative by outshining Estella. I'm not sure I should approve of this trend, villain-lover that I am, but I'm prepared to be magnanimous. After all, a Dickens hero is unlikely ever to be the brainiest person in the book, so maybe some kind of compensation is due.

To return to the Mystery, Matthew Rhys is a convincingly torn Jasper, sometimes reeling around tormentedly, sometimes spinning plots with a hard little smile. I was pleased to see he was quite a match for the feral child Deputy (a bit softened in the adaptation, but still a stranger to Dogderish charm). The series is excellently cast all the way: I was particularly impressed by Rory Kinnear as a Reverend Crisparkle whose ears you really didn't feel any urge to box.

More (hooray!) than half-way through The Son of a Servant: Did you ever feel bereft because you are not the trusted friend of a genius? Read Strindberg and you'll feel better. Continuously borrowing money while bombarding his pals with callow salon-radical "sceptical" ideas, he must have been a trying man to spend much time with. When a friend complains of the peasant girls at a country gathering and hankers after the fine ladies in the city, Strindberg's alter ego finds him appallingly snobbish. When the alter ego himself feels ashamed for having briefly loved a simple country girl, he invents a whole questionable evolutionary theory to prove to himself that his shame is quite natural - he compares himself with a thoroughbred stallion who won't mate with a farm mare. Say what? You can never be sure, of course, when Strindberg's tongue is in his cheek as regards the musings of his younger self, but one thing is clear: it's not often enough. Only 130 pages to go.

One little white lie? Forget it - you're in high school

Well, that didn't go so badly. Like most Swedes, I'm pretty chuffed our song made it to third place in the Eurovision Song Contest. Gone are the days when we would sulk every time we didn't win. Now we're happy to make the final in the first place, and as for becoming one of the top five - marvellous.

Mind you, I was a bit worried. The song is catchy, but the charming Finn in Swedish Television's Eurovision panel gave a word of warning. He doubted that the lyrics - about a boy who dreams of being popular so he can win the prettiest girl in school - would appeal much to the over-thirties. And he has a point, not because we don't remember what it was like in school, but because we do. Not that many people were popular in school. And while non-cool kids like me took a dim view of the popular crowd, the wannabes weren't that much better. They knew, and we knew, the surest route to popularity: picking on those lower down in the pecking order, i.e. us.

Still, who's to say: maybe dancing and breaking the odd glass wall might do the trick as well. I was prepared to think so, and so, it appears, was Europe.

In one respect, I was lucky in school experiences, at least I get that impression when I see American high school comedies. Secondary school (junior high school in America) may have been Alcatraz, but senior high school was actually all right. It was a far cry from the world of petty feuding and one-upmanship shown in the films. It varies, of course, and some Swedish high schools are rumoured to be cliquey and hard to navigate, but on balance I'd say that if you've survived Swedish secondary school, you're over the worst. Whereas, it appears, for the poor yanks, your problems are only just about to start. I remember a character in the film version of "The Jane Austen Book Club" (I don't think it was in the book) stating very emphatically, after having run into an old enemy from her school days, "High school is never over".

Boy, it's fun to watch, though, as long as you haven't lived through it yourself. High school comedies are an extremely guilty pleasure: compared to them, a Disney cartoon is an art movie. The formula, and the variations on it, are part of the fun. Of course there has to be a bitch. Of course she has to have well-groomed sidekicks. Of course the film's heroine - after really trying to keep out of trouble - will have her patience tried to such an extent by the bitch's plotting that she retaliates, quite justifiably. Cue the most enjoyable part of the film where the heroine stoops to mean tricks and we are still allowed to root for her. But then, invariably, she goes too far, becomes a bitch herself, and risks losing her Real Friends who are always profoundly uncool. Then there is a Disaster and she ends up hated by the whole school, only to make a triumphant comeback after having patched things up with her uncool pals. The bitch is defeated, and then they all go to college and live happily ever after. Sometimes it's a boy who makes this journey of discovery, as in the teen movie classic "Can't Buy Me Love", which unfortunately means less backstabbing.

What is rather tough in these films - and this is a thing they have in common with Disney cartoons - is that no deception, however minor or excusable, is tolerated in the long run. If you have any secret at all it will be all out in the open at the film's climax, and the one person you wanted to keep it from will know all about it. I'm all for the message Be Yourself and To Thine Own Self Be True, but films aimed at youngsters seem to be obsessed about it. To name but two examples, Mulan must be unmasked as a woman and the "warrior" insects in "A Bug's Life" must be revealed to be failed circus artists, because only by being themselves can they triumph - in the films, that is. Being Yourself in the real world isn't always that rewarding, especially not for a kid or a teenager. Still, there's self-respect to consider, so in the long run the moral message is the correct one, if only it weren't hammered in quite so incessantly. Once in a while, I would like to see a hero or heroine of a high school comedy - or a Disney film - get away with a lie.

One shouldn't get too sniffy about the To Thine Own Self Be True story arc, though. Dickens used it brilliantly in "Great Expectations". Maybe it's his turn to get the high school comedy treatment after Shakespeare ("10 Things I Hate About You" etc.) and Austen ("Clueless")? Estella would make a first-class high school bitch.

And the winner (with my luck) probably won't be...

I was thinking of raising the topic of audition shows - the almost acceptable face of reality TV - and trying to justify why I love watching them (only two have been aired on Swedish television so far). But that is too much like hard work. So I'll just settle for the easy option of posting a list of my favourite entries for the Eurovision Song Contest. Note that I've only heard the songs once, and they may sound completely different live, while some of the also-rans may pick up enormously (as happened last year with UK's "It's my time"). So here they are, in random order:

Moldavia: I originally gave this 3 out of 5 points, but what the heck, it's up-tempo and fun and the singers remind me slightly of the bad siblings in High School Musical. (Yep, I saw it - there's no limit to how silly your TV viewing can get when you're single and unrestrained.) Plus I like the hat. Bop to the top!

Albania: Another up-tempo number. The singer's boyfriend in the video looks like he's going to blow up a factory, but it doesn't really matter.

Iceland: This song sounds more like Ireland than Iceland, with the Valkyrie-like singer belting out a catchy pop tune (the only one of the songs I can still hum) very satisfactorily.

Armenia: I don't know what's happened to me. I normally like ballads a lot, but this year, both in the Swedish "Music Festival" competitions and now in Eurovision, I find the crop of ballads rather boring. This one I do like, though. Eurovision buffs usually appreciate "ethnic" numbers where the countries display "some of their national cultural heritage". Not me. I prefer this kind of number: smooth, professional, western-style pop.

Israel: Nice-looking boy with impressive voice sings soulful ballad in Hebrew. Yes, the concept is familiar. But no matter: it works. And as half of Asia is participating now, we can lay the old "yes but they're not really part of Europe, are they?" argument to rest.

Germany: No, I'm not so biased as you may think. I've barely liked one of Germany's entries to Eurovision so far. I'm not impressed by the Eurovision winner "Ein bisschen Frieden". (Admittedly, I've only heard about half the refrain of that song, but honestly: asking for "a little peace"? Isn't that as impossible as "a little war"?) But this time the singer is a pro, and charming with it, and the number is pleasing. The accented English is a little bewildering, but doesn't detract from the charm somehow.

Spain: Now here's where bias really comes in. The almost-completely-Swedish expert panel, with the exception of the excellent Finn, found this number "disturbing". And that's why it's a favourite for me. The sinister circus-master singer could be the evil genius in an "Avengers" episode - and he's got red curls too (well, all right, maybe it's a wig). If he had been made up as a clown, I agree it would have been too scary - as it is, from a villain-lover like myself, it has to be four out of five. Could be a complete disaster live, though.

Questions to ponder: am I the only one who thinks the singer for Switzerland is kinda cute (red hair again)? What do Romania's dancers (they may not make it to the live show) resemble most: C3PO or cybermen? And why, when they were doing so well with the Lloyd Webber song last year, have the UK back-slided again? When, apparently, none of their professional singers or pop groups deign to take part in Eurovision, it's no wonder the Brits aren't doing very well.

A very Swedish vice

Though I'm half-Swedish and living in Sweden, I don't like to admit to being typically Swedish. In the Eighties, Sweden was a trying place to grow up in (the endless moralising, the smugness, the pride in "the Swedish model", the craze for doing just about everything "in a group"). I used to be thankful for my German passport - not that I knew much about German culture and society, but Germany (West Germany in those bad old days) had the advantage of not being Sweden.

But the fall of the wall changed things here too, and I have made peace with my mother country. After all, in some ways I AM rather Swedish. I would never carelessly leave half a glass of alcohol undrunk. I don't particularly long for angry debates at work around coffee-time - I'd much rather find a subject where everyone is more or less in agreement. And I'm hooked on the Eurovision Song Contest - even more on the Swedish part of the competition than on the European one.

The Swedish contest is tellingly called "The Melody Festival". Swedes love it. For weeks, the runners-up are selected in competitions all around the country, and they finally meet in a grand finale in Stockholm. The winner becomes the Swedish entry for the Eurovision Song Contest. It is all very slickly and professionally organised. The voting system seems to get more inventive for every year, though in the end The Swedish People (or rather those TV viewers who vote like mad and more than once) tend to get their way. I don't always agree with the outcome, though when the time comes to watch the other countries' efforts I mostly end up thinking that the Swedish contribution is jolly nice after all and ought to do well. Except it doesn't - in fact, it's been ages since Sweden was anywhere near winning Eurovision. You have to hand it to the Swedes, though, they don't let that depress them for long. They're good sports - in this instance, more so than the nation who came up with the "good sport" concept.

The time has now come for a series of programmes where all the entries for the Eurovision Song Contest are shown and commented on by an "expert panel". It used to be a Nordic panel, but somewhere along the way our Nordic neighbours gave up on us, and now the only one left of the old gang is a charming and knowledgeable Finn - the rest of the panel are all Swedes with connections to the pop scene. They're pretty sensible on the whole, but I must say the songs so far are not much to write home about, which admittedly is part of the fun. Unusually, though, I don't like the Swedish winning song at all (it's the vibrato - it gets on my nerves, but apparently no-one else's) so there must be something better on offer. Moldova's sounded quite good.