'huge, queer and tawdry' but 'much admired by the public'

Well, I know I'm hardly the first to say this but Eurovision 2007 - what an utter debacle. Even after the Eastern bloc vote nobbled Israel and Switzerland in the semifinal, there was still some great stuff on show last night. It was a scandal that The Ark were placed so lowly, obviously, and while Ireland's affair was dismal the line "archipelagic icicles" alone meant it shouldn't have been bottom. France, also, ended up far lower than their sheer camp pop fun-ness merited. But still, y'know - Ukraine and Russia, placed second or third, would both have been legitimate victors. Instead - Serbia. A lumpen woman singing a leaden song. Ghastly. And voted for by all Serbia's former victims! Surely this isn't how the whole local backscratching thing is supposed to work? And in any case, how come the political votes still manifest themselves if everywhere's now deciding it on a 'phone vote by the populace? I don't know anyone who votes for neighbouring countries out of a sense of regional loyalty - do you? Everyone I know just votes for whichever song or performance they like most. Which leaves us two options - either the rest of Europe is significantly more caught up in old tribalisms than us (and in a really confused way, at that) - or the 'phone votes are a sham. I did have my doubts after the year Tatu competed - when in spite of being the only act with a pre-existing British fanbase, we apparently had not enough people voting for them to award them any points, this being announced by the witch Lorraine Kelly who had previously expressed her disapproval of them - but I had taken that for an isolated atrocity. Now, I think we need investigations, tribunals, justice.
Also under the heading 'pop/WTF?' - Bubble Pop Electric. Not so much the music (mostly really good, if rather lacking in flow) as the venue, Studio 88. It could be a nice space if someone gave it a wipe down (Sticky! Also, dead giant bug swimming in the loo) but the staff...not serving any draught even though they had the pumps, in a spot of blatant profiteering. A bouncer who first did nothing and then actually wandered off as a big lairy bloke got confrontational with the guy on the door. Some of the most blatantly underage drinkers I think I've ever seen in London. I'd decided earlier that I was more in the mood for Pop! than goth, hence choosing this over B Movie that night, but the whole experience was far more existentially troubling than any of the men in black ever were.
Which itself reminds me, the final issue of Britpop 'music is magic' comic Phonogram didn't resonate for me quite as much as the earlier issues had. Not through any artistic fault by Gillen or McKelvie, I hasten to add, but because it was about letting go, moving on, coming to terms with one's past...and increasingly I'm not sure about such things. I think we were right as teenagers when we saw growing up as intrinsically a process of surrender and compromise. I think the best we ever manage is to extract some small concessions as we make a peace on the world's terms rather than our own. We all end up giving our 12 points to our own Serbias, and I don't know if it's worse when we do it through gritted teeth or with a Stockholm Syndrome smile.

Am off to Devon for a few days. That's got nothing to do with any of the above, though. Or at least I don't think so.