… when the land cries out for heroes … Watching Eurovision w.my dad (=73) is always one of the year’s highlights – i am completely fascinated by the height of his camp threshold (mine is a lot lower) plus as a parent (ie of me among others) he I think gets tremendous straightforward pleasure out of watching kids of all climes getting excited abt winning something… extra bonus this year: our discussion of the geocultural implications of the intra-balkan bloc vote that wogan (*spits w.reflexive disgust*) was so endlessly arsey abt… mum and dad had their honeymoon in yugo in the mid-50s and have old friends and connexions there and were desperately torn up and brokenhearted by the civil war, so yeah it wz nice to see dad so fascinated and heartened by this (yeah yeah “trivial”) sign of a return of wider unfactional community in that whole region

(and yeah, FUCK that stupid fuck wogan, cz there is SO a carmody-style history of Eurovision and the EU to be written: at the risk of sounding a bit rumsfeld-ish, i *love* that the energy and creative centre of gravity has shifted eastwdz…) (as well as xena-wdz obv)

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