Ooh, Malta. Half their population got up early so sit in the hall and bellow fawningly as sweet old Chiara did her business. And on his showing she’ll do well. Mark our words. A huge but simple performance with lots of smiling and just enough passion, with a decent Disney ballad. Danger danger.
Our Javine, on the other hand, is looking good, but her dancers are a little lackluster. It’s the first time I’ve been halfway excited in anticipation of a UK rehearsal in ages, and it was good, but needs a little more. And if the clothing camera check was anything to go by she’s wearing a tiny red sequinned bra and a flimsy asymmetric skirt/belt that’s scarcely lower than her navel. Expect lots of flesh!
And then there was the parties.
First up a gentile affair for Slovenia in the Arena Sports Bar. Lots of those Slovene vol au vent things that might be made of horse or bunny, an acoustic show by the lad himself and some duets with Bosnia and Croatia (and some rumours that Ruslana turned up for a warble later, but by then we’d gorn off to the Romanian show on the big stage out in the courtyard, which despite my liking for a bit of industrial all fell a bit flat. Lots of metal banging, quite a bit of fire and spectacle, but it all came over a bit Manumission means Stomp, sadly.
Last of the lot was Belarus, which was quite a hoot, with the barmy lass festooned in gold and a funny head dress doing folksy songs with an old lady orchestra behind her, before it all degenerate into a reet old shindig.
We ducked out early mind, so we’d be up fresh and early for the UK this morning. Well, relatively so…