Eurovision Song Contest 2011


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Having watched each of the performing artists, I now have 15 minutes to compile my review of them (well most of them, I didn’t make notes for some of them: take that as you will)

Bosnia & Herzegovina

A  typical entry from the Bosnians. Quirky. Happy. Truly Euro-visual 🙂


Jedward must be pleased to see that their hair style has taken fruit over on the continent!

A slightly mellow tone from Denmark, not what I have come to expect.


An elegant dress ruined by the excess frill on the shoulders.

Sign language may have been an emotional touch in Glee, however it didn’t have the same effect here.


A Ulrika-GaGa hybrid was the first thing to come to mind. I must admit how thankful I was that the dress wasn’t shorter, lest we’d have seen her Chamber of Secrets (hopefully Basilisk free, although not entirely sure).

Overall I feel this song must be a hommage to the victims of any nuclear reactor meltdown/explosion ever, what with the gentleman in the radioactive suit, and the glowstick accentuation on their wear. Why was his crotch glowing exactly?


No comment. No need.


Googoo Dolls meats Michael Jackson. Couldn’t stop singing along… shame it was the lyrics to the more lyrical/memorable/better Wicked song of the same title.

Evidently the choreographer didn’t take into account the fact that the gentleman is right handed, shown by the constant switching to his left hand to dance, then back to the more comfortable right-handed pose for singing.


Loved her dress! With the exception of the curtain pull accents. It was so typically Eastern European.


It’s got nothing on Sakis and his huge stapler in 2009.


Phwoar! “Do you feel my heart beat Europe?!”

Arousing doesn’t cut it for that man… A Grease’s T-Birds look, he was definitely winking at me… I liked it 😉


No. No to Corsican.


The piano player’s trousers were too short.


Ukulele? Definitely got my vote, never mind the perfect dress she was sporting. The neckline was brilliantly low yet modest at the same time!


Needless to say, I wasn’t expecting THAT! I thought the UKs joke entry was a few years ago with Scooch!


Witch Doctor meets Devo! Crack that whip!


I had been hoping for something different from Satellite 😦

Also, the silver morph suits reminded me of Verka Seduchka in 2007


LOVED THE OUTFIT and the piano riff at the beginning was catchy.


Reminded me of ‘Hero’… I don’t like that song either.


Something quite serene and beautiful about this song. It’s not a potential winner, but I’l probably download it 🙂


ZENA WARRIOR PRINCESS with that metal bra o.O

First Edna (The Apprentice) now Slovenia? (<< Gloves reference)


Take That tribute band, complete with Robbie pout.


A true europop song! What one expects of Eurovision!! LOVED IT!




So, my top rated?

  1. Switzerland
  2. Serbia
  3. Denmark
  4. Spain
  5. Russia
  6. Romania



There’s A Lot Of Love In The Palace Right Now

Congratulations to His Royal Highness, Prince William, Duke of Cambridge, Earl of Strathearn, Baron Carrickfergus, Order of the Knight’s Garter and Her Grace, Catherine Windsor, Duchess of Cambridge, Countess of Strathearn, Baronness Carrickfergus. What a spectacular day you have put on for us all, and I wish you all the best in the coming years you shall share together in both the public eye and your private lives. You deserve everything that the world can offer you… The same as every bride and groom. It has nothing to do with your lineage that I wish you luck. Or that I cried at whilst watching your ceremony. It’s because there’s evidently a lot of love between the two of you. It just beams out of your very beings when you are together. From William’s wide smile, to the twinkle in Catherine’s eyes when they lock with her Prince’s. And this is why I wept.

Later on, following the dissipation of those feelings of elation as I witnessed your first kiss, as I witnessed that sentient touch of hands, I became that token bridesmaid/wedding guest who cries at the end of the evening.

I’m not proud of it, but I have to admit it. I became the one that stands in the middle of the dance floor as S Club “Reach For The Stars” plays, drinking gin or some other spirit, crying about how it’s never them.

Today has only reconfirmed that I want to get married. That I want to find that one special man made for me, and give to him everything I possess, and share with him everything in our future.

I want to sing “Jerusalem” at the top of my voice in a magnificent church or cathedral. I want to walk down an aisle as a string quartet plays bidding adieu to my life as one entity. I want everything that I’ve grown up thinking I could have as a heterosexual, but as an adult awoken to my sexuality.

It depresses me to think that I can’t have this purely because I’d wish to lie abed with another man. Yet, those who truly do not want it, those that are not truly faithful to the words they repeat in the eyes of God, can have all of this and more.

All is fair in love and war… most especially when one must wage war upon society to be permitted to show your love.

It’s finally happened…

I’ve become a murderer. And I don’t feel remorse. I’m a psychopath!

Ok, so I only murdered someone whilst in my dreams but even so. No remorse. In fact, it made me happy. That’ll teach the cheeky bint *shakes fist and cackles* It was quite relieving, actually. I was finally able to release all that pent up anger I feel whenever I go shopping, so much so my neck muscles don’t hurt any longer, so I can only assume that it’s because of this dream.

It all started with the upcoming Easter shop. Unable to grasp the concept of time in dream-world Asda, I imagine I spent a few hours walking through the store to fill up my trolley with everything one could need for a traditional roast dinner on Easter Sunday with the intention of feeding 20 people or so. Finally having reached the checkout and some idiot pushing in front of me because he only had two items (go to the express checkout, moron).

Next frame and I’m about to start packing my shopping but none of it is coming down the conveyor belt. Instead, some old woman (who had been behind me at the checkout) is stood packing her stuff. Upon questioning the teller she said she’d thought it was all together because there wasn’t a divider.

Oh. There was a divider. I made absolutely CERTAIN there was a divider. This old woman had evidently removed it. I turned to her and asked what she was doing, saying she’d taken my shopping, and she called me a liar.

So I rammed a trolley into her. Repeatedly. Until she stopped moving. Then went on my way with an empty trolley to go and put the tomatoes back on the shelf that I’d decided I didn’t need any longer. (Not sure about that bit… Hmmm)

I think everyone should enjoy this form of hypnotherapy… It’s all the fun of murder, without the blood (and murder).

Celibacy and Me

If you didn’t know by now, I’m a Christian. Now I’m not one of these god-fearing, doctrine quoting, [in]tolerant[when it suits] Christians. I’m a free thinking Christian. I’ve consciously made the choice to accept God into my life, just as much as I consciously decided to accept that not everyone needs Him, or not everyone needs my variation of Him.

I go to church sporadically, of late. Why? Because I don’t like decoration. I feel it detracts from the main purpose of church and of prayer. Prior to moving to uni I used a lovely, undecorated village hall, or would walk up to one of the fields in Ronague or Bradda and commune with God there. Here at Salford University they offered a fabulous multi-faith centre, the clean white walls made it perfect for me, however it’s currently closed down as they renovate it ready for next year where the CofE Chaplaincy will be.

I don’t preach.

I joke about being a Christian with non-religious friends.

I don’t drink alcohol, other than on feast days.

I’m chaste.

Shock! Horror! A gay man who abstains! Tell me about it, I have a hard enough time explaining this to gay men, let alone to those that perceive us to all be fur-less-rabbits (of just rabbits in the sense of ‘bears’). It’s a conscious choice, not dictated to me by the fact I’m a Christian, in deed I know some Christian friends who find the entire thought of celibacy as ridiculous and middle aged. Well, I’m often called a prude by many (including myself) and this just goes to further the point.

I question if sex is even necessary. I’m chaste before marriage (or unionship to be politically correct). This is going to be difficult, I understand, trying to find someone who’s willing to make such a commitment before something that so many see as vital. Me? I don’t see the importance in sharing bodily fluids when there are far more interesting things to talk about. Like, discussing what happened at your day during work whilst fixing up tea or supper. Being the arm chair critics we will undoubtedly be, or at least I will be. Taking a nice walk along the sea front, up the glens, through the fields with the dogs. Of course I recognise that not everyone can share the same view of sex as I do, but perhaps this form of chastity I have taken is a test of the man I want to find. I want to find a man who can be faithful to me, who can make such a commitment to me that I will finally be willing to give unto them that which I can only give once. My virginity.

Burt Hummel from Glee made my eyes water in S2E15 when he discussed, with Kurt, sex and celibacy.

“You gotta know that [sex] means something. It’s doing something to you… to your heart… to your self esteem, even when it feels like you’re just having fun. […] Use it as a way to connect to another person. Don’t throw yourself around like you don’t matter.

‘Cos you do matter.

This May Shock You…

… but, yes. I am a serial stranger-confronter. What’s more? I’m a proud stranger-confronter. But what is a stranger-confronter exactly? Allow me to attempt to define one with my own examples.

This morning on my way to my last French Written Language lecture of the year, my ears were assaulted by that slapping/sliding sound of someone who seems incapable of lifting their own feet up when they walk. Danger! This is a pet hate of mine… In fact, I wouldn’t say a pet hate, purely because ‘pet’ conjures up images of cute fuzzy creatures people keep for pleasure… This is one of the many things that brings me boiling up with absolute rage…

Indeed, there are many things that leave me angry, but these can be overcome. It’s these rage-inciting acts that I like to call the ‘unforgivables’ (as in, if I ever went on a date with someone who did them, I would probably end up killing them or walking out early). There is absolutely NO way I will EVER overlook the unforgivables…

So I stopped and turned around to glare at the man behind me. I should probably add that I was impressed at my hearing as before turning and looking at his shoes I had already guessed that they were square-toed loafers with a 0.5″ heel. He came to a stop and looked at me strangely before I shouted “Pick up your god damn feet when you’re walking! It’s not hard!” I then continued to look him up and down and added “And go buy some shoes to match your suit. That’s just assaulting.”

I turned and strode off, ensuring to pick up my own feet as I did so.

I don’t save this for strangers on university campus who seem incapable of walking properly… Oh no. I am beginning to get a name for myself among friends for shouting at charity workers in the centre of Manchester. “Do I LOOK like I have time?” “Do you honestly believe that if I had a spare minute I’d spend it frolicking with the great-unwashed?” *cold hard stare/twitchy eye*

But yes, I not only shout at strangers in the street, but I enjoy doing it. It’s part of who I am… *shrug* The easiest way to not suffer from my whip-lash of a tongue or heart-stopping glare… don’t annoy me. EVER! I don’t think that’s too hard a request.

Someone Like You – French Translation

J’ai appris que tu t’as rangé,

Que tu trouvais  une fille qui te complète maintenant.

J’ai entendu que tes rêves se réalisaient,

Je suppose qu’elle te donnât tous les choses je ne pourrais pas.

Mon homme, pourquoi dois-tu se réfugier ?

Ce n’est pas d’habitude que tu te retenais évitant l’éclair.


Refrain (1)

Je déteste d’arriver à l’improviste, tout intrus,

Mais je ne peux pas rester là, je ne peux pas le lutter.

J’avais espéré que tu me voyais, reconnaitrais mon vissage,

Et te rappellerais que nous ne finîmes  pas pour moi.


Refrain (2)

Oubliez-le ! Je trouverai un autre comme toi,

Je te souhaite rien mais le meilleur, malgré tous !

Souviens-moi, j’implore !

Je rappelle quoi tu dis  ;

« Rarement, il le dure, l’amour,

Mais, sinon, quelquefois il te blesse »

Rarement, il le dure, l’amour,

Mais, sinon, quelquefois il te blesse.


Tu comprends comme le temps passe vite,

C’était seulement d’hier que nous nous amusions.

Nous grandîmes et développâmes dans une brume d’été,

Borné par la surprise de nos jours splendeurs.


Refrain (1 + 2)

Rien ne se compare,

Ni les soucis, ni les soins,

Les regrettes et les bourdes, ils sont les souvenirs dorénavant.

Comment peut-on anticiper cette expérience aigre-douce ?


Refrain (2) x2

Rarement, il le dure, l’amour,

Mais, sinon, quelquefois il te blesse.