In a land far away from this one live the Eurovisionistas. Their fantasies fuel contests filled with Carola (or anyone else Swedish).
One cold night, they woke from feverish dreams of how their “daddy” had decided to dress up in a white suit, look slightly inappropriately down the camera and say “sing na na na”. Worse yet, he refused to believe it wasn’t 1973.
Except it wasn’t a dream.
‘Say na na na’ is dated to hell, written very badly (with the help of a rhyming dictionary) and barely jazzed up with neon lighting effects.
Someone has also put the words on the backdrop – one of my pet peeves. Add a bit of camp-as-tits dancing and choreography, and what you actually have is a recipe for unbridled genius.
Christer must be praised for sticking this on at the end of a run of batshit songs set to blow the mind of even the most dedicated fan, let alone a casual television viewer who might well have had a breakdown by this point.