Dear all,
This weekend sees the return of the one event that makes me wish I had a television. True, it would be handy for some sporting events (I'm looking at you, World Cup), but these generally work pretty well down at a pub. Now, I have watched Eurovision in a pub once before, but it's always felt like something that deserves a more homely, intimate and comfortable setting. Plus it's cheaper, you can hear the snide remarks and slightly xenophobic comments made by whoever is being paid by the BBC to get drunk and keep the viewers updated, as well as usually having much more pleasant toilets on hand if you stay in.
The benchmark of Eurovision parties I've been lucky enough to be involved with has to have been the one held at 46 Priory Road, Exeter, during my last year of university there. It was a beautiful occasion. We had gotten ourselves familiar with that year's selection of songs. We had dressed ourselves in suits. We had printed out pictures of various European flags and stuck them up about the living room. We had brought downstairs two of the mattresses from our beds so that everyone could sit/slouch in comfort. We bought a lot of pizzas and beer. We persuaded some Americans to come over who had no idea what they were getting themselves in for. We had one particularly enthusiastic chap who brought along his very own full sized Polish flag. Thankfully Poland did not win. Unfortunately Latvia did not win. An honourable mention went to Spain, especially their idiosyncratic dancers. It was glorious. What a night. I will put pictures onto the internet at some point.
And so here we are, three years on from that wonderful night. Here we are in Brighton. It is here that, once again, I am met with that most atrocious problem; not having a TV but having something very important that I need to watch.
I can't quite understand why the television owners I know that live in Brighton haven't been shouting from the rooftops and rallying the troops for that wonderful night where the whole of the continent and a nice proportion of Eurasia are united in battling each other across the field of music. Perhaps people have been shouting from the rooftops, and only doing it whilst I'm at work. Perhaps I've been getting drunk in my leisure time a little bit too much, and that inexcusable displays of loutish behaviour have put people off inviting me to any such gatherings. Hopefully this is not the case. I watched the semi-final yesterday on my housemate's laptop and it's just not the same.
Someone needs to step up to the plate here. Step up to the plate and have a swing at glory. Someone needs to take that chance, to reach out and grab at it. That person could be the one who gets to say, "hey, remember that gathering I held when that Belgian a capella jazz-pop group won Eurovision?" Imagine being able to say that. Much better than saying, "hey, remember that Sufjan Stevens gig we went to?" I don't have anything against Sufjan, but he's just not Witloof Bay is he?
So, those who own the means of production in this matter, open up your arms and share this joy with those who have not. Do the right thing. Host a Eurovision party. Even if I'm not invited. I will find a way and a venue to watch it eventually. I can. I will. I know I can untie these hands.
PS. I love Belarus.
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