Well, if nothing else the Eurovision Song Contest shows that the God of the Bible is alive and well and living in Mainland Europe. He is, as any cursory reading of that appalling but compelling book will show, petty, vindictive, arbitrary, partial and above all mysterious. And what other adjectives could one apply to a contest that saw Germany walk it with a barely sung effort to which I awarded the mark of 3 out of 30.
Yes. Awarding marks. I did actually download the BBC score sheet and filled it in as the contest progressed. It now lies in a crumpled ball at my feet thrown there in a fit of pique as the voting developed.
As it is the day after the contest I shall now go into my (well rehearsed by now) tirade against the competition and against Johnny Foreigner in particular!
I can see no justification for the continued support of the BBC in funding this twisted farrago of blatant political bias. OK, one of the “big four” did win bucking the trend of nascent nationalistic nonentities voting for their friends and neighbours – but I am sure that some shaky economies were thinking that a vote for Germany might ensure their continued survive when it came to a bailout! Or not. I always read too much into these tawdry extravaganzas.
I shall, however, vary my moaning this year by suggesting that the UK does not continue to buy its way into the competition finals by funding a ritual humiliation every year, but rather take its chances with the heats and at least get a cut price shaming!
Thank god that rant is over for another year!
A courtesy call to Clarrie resulted in grave discourtesy. It turns out that not only has she purchased an i-pad, but also she got it on the first day of sale from The Apple Store in Regent’s Street.
My weekend is ashes and despair.
How can I teach for even a single more week knowing that Clarrie’s fingers are gliding over the sleek screen of a reasonable sized object of desire?
How?
Yes. Awarding marks. I did actually download the BBC score sheet and filled it in as the contest progressed. It now lies in a crumpled ball at my feet thrown there in a fit of pique as the voting developed.
As it is the day after the contest I shall now go into my (well rehearsed by now) tirade against the competition and against Johnny Foreigner in particular!
I can see no justification for the continued support of the BBC in funding this twisted farrago of blatant political bias. OK, one of the “big four” did win bucking the trend of nascent nationalistic nonentities voting for their friends and neighbours – but I am sure that some shaky economies were thinking that a vote for Germany might ensure their continued survive when it came to a bailout! Or not. I always read too much into these tawdry extravaganzas.
I shall, however, vary my moaning this year by suggesting that the UK does not continue to buy its way into the competition finals by funding a ritual humiliation every year, but rather take its chances with the heats and at least get a cut price shaming!
Thank god that rant is over for another year!
A courtesy call to Clarrie resulted in grave discourtesy. It turns out that not only has she purchased an i-pad, but also she got it on the first day of sale from The Apple Store in Regent’s Street.
My weekend is ashes and despair.
How can I teach for even a single more week knowing that Clarrie’s fingers are gliding over the sleek screen of a reasonable sized object of desire?
How?
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