“If they were on fire I’d walk past those two. They disgraced this great country of ours…”
The relative of someone killed in a terrorist attack talking about the bombers? An embittered council estate resident complaing about the local crack dealers making her life hell? Your local foul-mouthed cabbie on the cyclists who just cut him up? Nope. The charming words of Eurovision hopeful Daz Sampson, about his predecessors Jemini (y’know, the ones who got nul points). However, he was sure he was going to not disgrace this fair isle:
“We think we get hard done by, but that’s total nonsense. It’s because we’ve sent absolute toilet. […] This year we’re sending something world class, it’ll be unique. I feel I can make a difference.”
Well, Daz turned out to be toilet too: he came a stonking 19th out of 24 last night, an improvement of just seven points on Javine’s effort last year. And in a nutshell, he symbolises everything that is wrong with modern Britain. Nasty, bullying and blind to his own shortcomings, Sampson is a typical example of this miserable country and its self-obssessed thinking. Everything about him and his song stinks: his lyrics echo empty hyper-individualistic platitudes, which dismiss the counsel or advice of others and replaces it with the vacuous narrow-minded philosophy of “follow your dreams”. It mistakes egomania for confidence, arrogance for self-esteem. Humility or grace have no place in his vocabulary. To top it off, there’s the cheap, lazy misogyny; for fuck’s sake – girls in the school uniforms are the oldest trick in the book, as every sleazy halfwit club owner in Ibiza knows. Besides, if it’s a song about your own schooldays Daz, why aren’t there any dancing schoolboys in the lineup?
Hang on, you’re going to say, it’s just Eurovision. And you’re right, it is just Eurovision, something which none of us should ever really take that seriously. It’s a celebration of culture, not a war. But Sampson does take it seriously, deadly seriously, enthusing about how he would be a “future hero” if he won. An egomaniac in his mid-thirties who has yet to get over his own childhood, who invokes repressed fetishism of schoolgirls as proof of his manliness, genuinely thinks Eurovision is what it takes to make him a “hero”. Well, you’re not a hero, Daz, nor are you a failure or a disgrace. All you were ever going to be was some bloke with a couple of minor chart hits who was in a song contest, and not much more than that. The sooner he gets over it, and the sooner we as a nation get over our own self-importance, the better.
Finally, totally unrelated point. Was I the only one, when watching the winners Lordi, who thought they were just an elaborate stunt by Fathers 4 Justice? I was almost disappointed when they didn’t tear off their masks, throw eggs and start whining at the hosts.