Obviously we’re such slaves to love that we missed the first little bit watching the rather marvellous Daz and gals both rehearse and conference – and heck does that boy give good conference!
But we don’t love you quite enough to have stayed to watch France and Croatia – but heck, opening night is serious ligging night! A night where posh frocks and ill-advised suit marry up for a night over over made up nonsense. Seriously, the whole place glowed – none more than the Maltese bloke out of the Swiss entry, who appeared even more Jaffa Cake than he did in their press conf, when he leapt uninvited into the midst of a Moldova dance off. Also bearing the brunt of said hoe down was the nice Belorussian lady who was lured into a sultry dance by one of the Moldo crew, before being unceremoniously asked who she was. Micro stropette ensued.
The Swiss weren’t too happy when I saw them being barged out of the way by Ms Night‘s burly entourage. Herself, with veil over face, was marching through the crowd and ignoring everyone in a very dramatic style, to the occasional boo. (Hoorah!)
Operating a similar tactic was St Carola, who may have had the flimsiest security of the night, but they were certainly intense – wafting her away from anyone who looked remotely unwashed.
So she obviously went nowhere near St Lordi (of the underworld) who was far more gracious and giving, and who would have a chat and a snap with anyone. Little Fab from Malta was seen in long discussions, and the Irish chap was heard to say ”tell them who I am – I want my picture taking with them.” Mr Lordi obviously knows true star quality when he sees it though, as he bowled over to me and asked “Are you a heavy rocker? You are the first heavy rocker I have seen when I am here!” and grabbed me for a snap. Although to be honest, looking at it you can’t tell which is which.
Elsewhere the elfin chick from Norway was wistful, glazed and distant, Jenny from the Andorra was a happy snap junkie, and her from Bulgaria would throw some frightening pose shaps for anyone who even walked by with a camera.
A little more grumpy were the Portuguese, who kept themselves to themselves – although the one with the pink bits in her hair ended up being quite friendly. The now green-with-bits-in haired Mikael from Poland was his usual good value though, dancing with everyone, and swinging vodka from a bottle like the way rabbits in cages do.
The poor pups from Latvia – in matching ‘nice’ velvet jackets looked a little overawed by proceedings, Eddie Butler was affable and hand shaky, LT United went around putting pegs on everyone in some bizarre private joke, and Tina Karol was seen having a right strop with her manager and left early.
There was the usual bout of sneaky looks at someone in a posh frock’s accreditation pass to see if they were an act you didn’t recognise, or merely the bloke who put up the tent’s missus, and the Netherlands seemed to sadly fall into this category, with loads of folks kinda going “I know them – who they?”, and leaving them alone. Las Ketchup, more surprisingly, were also victims of this ignominy, as were the Bosnian delegation, cos no one was entirely sure if they were the artists or the sanitation engineers come in for a quick recce before the clean up.
Also mentioned in dispatches (but not seen by us) were our Daz and the gals – apparently happy to chat with anyone, Evil Ralph, a startled looking Armenian pup and everybody’s favourite Icelandic near miss Selma.
Ooh, and we also has a chat with an unnamed artist from last year, who when we commented on the fact we liked their song, replied “I didn’t …”.
We left the stunning Zappeion gardens as Sakis started belting into the pop metal hits – well there’s only so much a chap could take. It wasn’t a bad do – a little cluttered and poorly spread out, but there was about a mile of fabulous cake, and to their credit they didn’t obscure the view of the main stage from non-accredited Athenians so they could all have a look at Sakis – which would, after all, mean a heck of a lot more to them than it would to us. It’s just a shame they had to suffer the hosts attempting a medley of all 37 songs before it.
Oof!
Going to parties so you don’t have to,
Roy Doom Hacksaw