This was, possibly above Hatari, the ‘water cooler moment’ of this semi final.
Just like the Icelanders, Conan can sing any old bollocks (and does) and he doesn’t care. It was more about the art and performance than dead mobile phones and whatever malarkey him and his chum get up to on stage.
It was what it always was, marmite set to music, but as a piece of art, Mr Roy of this parish loved it … and I think that tells you all you need to know.
Can I go home and eat real food now please?
Are their grannies’ nighties in the wash? Spoons in the dishwasher? And where are the scissorhands?
Are their grannies’ nighties in the wash? Spoons in the dishwasher? And where are the scissorhands?