Those of us who consider the Eurovision Song Contest beyond parody and barely worth celebrating are probably not the target audience of this celebration-cum-parody of the Eurovision Song Contest. Yes, I picked up my (German) badge and flag at the door. Yes, I flapped it around as the ten competing songs were sung, and presenters Boyka (Mel Giedroyc) and Sergei (Les Dennis) shepherded proceedings towards the concluding audience vote. But finally, this is for people, probably in large drunken groups, who want to imagine they’re at the real Eurovision Song Contest – which has always been fairly low down my list of ambitions.
Mind you, I suspect you’d get funnier songs at the real event. The efforts at pastiche are poor here. Spoofing Björk (why?), Kraftwerk (why?) and Abba is musical-comedy first base, but Craig Christie and Andrew Patterson’s songs, under Glynn Nicholas’s direction, can’t even get that far. Elsewhere, I often couldn’t tell what the joke was – but if in doubt, guess ‘cheap national stereotype’ and you won’t be far away. Here, Bosnia means poverty and goats, Germans are humourless, and Swedes are all moustachio’ed pornstars. Mind you, I like Sergei and Boyka’s strangulated accents, and their links, which cheerfully introduce Russia, say, as the land of ‘volcanic activity, perma-frost and massive credit card fraud’.
The show’s main aim may be to prove that Christie and Patterson can write an adequate pop tune. And sure enough, Ireland’s triumphant ‘La La La’ has taken up a tenancy-from-hell in my head. Elsewhere, there’s flamboyant campery (from Poland’s Toomas Jerker and the Hard Pole Dancers) and one for the dads (Greece’s sexed-up Nana Mouskouri, Persephone). It all might be easy to enjoy but for frequent reminders of its low wit and ambition. It’s not a nul points – but it’s not exactly boom bang-a-bang, either.
