My wife celebrated her birthday last night; an evening of ordered festivities defined by a traditional slice of my mother’s mouth-watering chocolate cake. As the family gathered around the table to witness the joyful moment of candle-blowing, my son’s mischievous antics resurfaced as he experimented with a box of matches and one of the birthday cards; a jubilant occasion soon transformed into a scolding session between father and son.
Upon returning home, an infamous group of insects buzzing around the
porch light, reminded us that large doses of insect repellant would be listed
on our weekend shopping list under the “priority” column; the summer heat in
Cyprus has a habit of luring these unfriendly bugs into our home. And as we made our way through this jungle of
uncanny creatures, a frightful cockroach was waiting arrogantly in the centre
of the kitchen floor.
Needless to say, a loud duel ensued between human and pest; victory to
the uninvited creature with its swift, dodging instincts which allowed it to
mysteriously disappear. Fuelled with an
angry dose of revenge, I fumigated the kitchen, turned off the lights and went
to bed.
For the first time in weeks, I found myself relaxing in bed watching the
Eurovision Song Contest. It was the
second semi-final and Greece was hoping to secure their place in the upcoming
final this Saturday. Unfortunately,
Cyprus was unable to secure a spot– regrettably, our song choice, although a
beautiful ballade, did not appeal to the masses; hopefully there’s no political
motive behind the boycott.
After a series of stereotypical love songs from most of the
participating countries – performances which included a lesbian wedding, a
young acrobat trapped in a glass cage (at times, I felt compelled to open the
box myself and let the man out before suffocating on live television), a
bearded man with enough blond hair to weave a carpet, and Malta’s
doctor-turned-singer whose smile implied an overdose of ecstasy.
Greece kick started their performance with an unusual combination of
urban Greek folk music (Rembetiko) and modern rock. This young group of musicians, dressed in
black kilts, bounced elatedly on stage chanting repeatedly “alcohol is free.”
Greece’s choice might have been slightly twisted, but breaking away from
the tiresome floozy mould proves to me that the team behind this year’s entry
has certainly done their homework. If a group of monster-masked hard rockers or
a cheesy teenager singing about her toenails can win the Eurovision song contest,
surely Greece stands a chance of bringing the song contest back to Athens, or
at least making the top five?
It seems that a crazy song combined with a silly performance has a
greater chance of taking the title home.
Admittedly, I won’t be watching the final song contest this
Saturday. Sitting through four hours of mind-numbing
tunes, puerile performances and a voting system (which seems to last longer
than a flight to Australia), does not appeal to me. I will, however, be supporting Greece – hopefully
those who understand good music will vote for them too.
Weight
for me tomorrow. Paul
Paul Lambis is the author of “Where is Home?” – A journey of hilarious contrasts.
For more information on Paul Lambis, and to order his book online,
visit www.paul-lambis.com
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