From a very young age – as far back as I can remember – I’ve watched the Eurovision Song Contest.
Today, I watch it religiously. I go to the Contest when I can, and when I can’t, I have a party at my house.
I have a small cadre of persistent party buddies (hi Ben, hi Ollie!) and, without fail, we have a good time.
When I tell people about this, or when I invite them to join us, I am often met with the same refrain:
“I can’t stand Eurovision”
The justifications for this statement are many and varied. Often they come with an air of superiority.
And look, I get it. The music is often awful, the outfits garish and the voting interminable. (Although I happen to like most of that, most of the time.)
I too am embarrassed at most UK entries, roll my eyes at the vote trading between Cyprus and Greece, and could do without the increasingly political discourse surrounding a purposefully non-political event.
I agree with you that the presenting is often cringeworthy. I know, it’s all a bit cheesy. And yes, it can be a little too earnest.
These things make Eurovision awful. They also make it amazing and fun and delightful.
But here’s the truth. You might be a massive Eurovision nerd like me or you might not. That’s irrelevant.
The Eurovision is not the point
I freaking love watching Eurovision but that, in and of itself, is not why I venture abroad or why I invite people around.
I don’t watch Eurovision just for the singing and the voting. I do it because it’s an excuse to have a good time with people I care about.
Ever since I was a kid, my family have gathered round the TV with a picky-bits tea and indulged in the nonsense. Now, I do the same with my chosen family.
The glitter. The off-key notes. The postcards. The badly translated lyrics. The kitsch and camp. None of that is the point.
The point is the people you spend those four or so hours with. It’s the coming together.
And, for a TV show created to promote peace after the horrors of war, there’s nothing more Eurovision than that.