Opening party apocalypse

Party

I know it’s a little late, but you still want to know about the opening party, don’t you dear reader? Well it was a lig of two halves, both of which had their own peculiar charms.

Half the game had been to get ourselves into the thing in the first place. Tickets were scarce, despite the cavernous nature of the hall, and hissy-fits were being pulled all over the shop. Eventually politeness and patience bagged us one ticket, the kind nature of ESCtoday’s Juha another and finally Jon Lilygreen‘s all round top blokeness got the third of us in.

Jon Lilygreen & The Islanders at Welcome party...
Jon Lilygreen & The Islanders at Welcome party by Vincent Hasselgård, Aktiv I Oslo.no (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Mind you, half the fun came on the pink carpet leading into the affair. You can see what they were trying to achieve – well, at least what was in their heads when they thought up the scheme. “Hey, lets have all the delegations coming in one by one, and we’ll announce them up the carpet as they come!” Great idea – except, as always, human nature got in the way to whip up a logistical nightmare.

The plan was for each act to whip up the rug to the big hall in double quick time, posing once, perhaps for the telly. What actually happened though was that the world’s press quickly bagged them all for interviews and photo-shoots and a queue of buses stuffed with bored international pop stars snaked off round the harbour. And hour and a half later and they just about got everyone in.

Bobbysocks consisting of Hanne Krogh and Elisa...
Bobbysocks consisting of Hanne Krogh and Elisabeth Andreassen at the outdoor scene “Festplassen” in Bergen. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

This though led to a slightly disjointed affair, as the acts stayed in their constituent groups rather than doing the usual mingling for the camera lark, and even appearances by past Norwegian winners (well, Bobbysocks and Rybak) couldn’t gel an atmos in the gargantuan hall. The food ran out too quickly and the wine was being rationed, but we still found time to cause mischief with the Cypriot Welsh boy. He’s blagged his best buddy from Newport, little Scott Bowman, accreditation, and he was having the time of his life, even managing to pose for a pic with the 50ft woman from Armenia. You should see the look on his little face!

Elsewhere, the Danes have no chemistry whatsoever, the Lithuanians were playing micro-gigs wherever they went, and the Poles were happily chatting to anyone who tapped them on the shoulder. Oh, and the unpronounceable Finnish lasses were getting all teenager down the front for Rybak, bless ’em.

The cool kids soon decanted to the round the corner Euroclub, where we held court in the cigarette garden, gently berating the lovely Ferman from maNga about his superfluous robot backing dancer, shouting OPA! loudly at any Greek that came by, and making South Walean mischief with the Lilygreen posse. And then it all becomes a bit of a blur.

It’s just a shame last night’s party round wasn’t even a quarter as good. The real business begins tonight – let’s wish all the acts well tonight and hope the best ten scrape through… however unlikely that happens to be!

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