Darkness. The screens at the back of the stage we see France from space. The camera zooms in on Paris. Scenes of France randomly appear on the screens. Various French Celebraties say Bonjour. After this the lights go down again and come up againg to reveal... an empty stage. Where are Theary and Practice?
Souds from the wings.
Thiery: No we are not going on. After we sang last time people laughed at us in the street.
Director: They will have forgotten by now.
Practice: No we are not going on. Stop pushing me. No we are not go... Oh. Good evening ladies and gentlemen and welcome to the 2020 Ship Eurovision.
Thiery: We are in for a great night tonight and the director is in for a thick ear. Anyway on with our first act. From the land of giant mammals the enrty from Whales
The Liechstensteiner lyricist wishes she could whistle while she works. The powers that be have carefully researched the winning form of past contestants, to find that over the years Ireland has scooped up the highest number of wins by far.
Have you tried combining celtic drippy and Alamannic oompah cultures? After the last rehearsal, the lyricist had to go away and lie down in a darkened room with an ice pack on her head.😟
Alpenhorns aren’t designed to play pianissimo and Helena Belena is complaining that the harp strings are ruining her nails.
The Italian entrants are desperately trying to get to the rehearsal room. The problem is that all the virtual groupies are throwing themselves upon the two rather hunky Italian lead singers to try and get selfies. Social distancing be dammed when one of them has modeled for one of those Gondolier calendars sold to women of certain ages.
Meanwhile the technical wizard is sitting in their own darkened room madly editing slightly dodgy home video footage of aged relatives, (well we couldn't go in to get it done professionally) to form the visual background on the screen, without extraneous cats or unsightly piles of kitchen detritus.
As far as the lyricist is concerned that's being done on the fly with the help of the cookery book and Wikipedia!
Excuse me! I hope you’re not planning on hogging the dry ice, Balaam. Liechtenstein’s contestant, the beautiful, ethereal Helena Belena, will need copious supplies in order to provide a suitably atmospheric setting.
You'll be fine. The Antarctica contingent have two dry ice machines of their own to make sure there will be no technical problems. <Taps machine> [aside]Why is this thing rattling and how did Liechtenstein hear my previous aside?[/aside]
I really have no idea what you’re talking about...😉 Liechtenstein’s representative has not been mixing with any of the other contestants; in fact she’s ensconced in her dressing room at this very moment, communing with her inner goddess.
@Firenze ‘s Bill has worked wonders drumming up supporters in the ‘More Tea, Vicar?’ thread. [Distant echo of “We want Wales! We want Wales!]
Miffy OTOH, has been banned from posting in The Circus.
From the only part of the world without coronavirus, Antarctica presents:
Roald Amm & Son singing “We got penguins,”
<The missing costumes are yet to be found.>
[The staging is all in white. Perspex icebergs stage right and stage left are glowing from coloured lights on the inside.]
[In front and to stage left are the band consisting of a drummer and keyboardist in front of whom are a guitarist, bass player, and violinist, their instruments, like the icebergs, made of perspex. Someone must have rescued the instruments from the 1970s. The band are wearing parkas, the effect of the parkas and the stage lighting is obvious: The musicians are visibly sweating.]
[The music starts. The tune starts, it has a marked similarity to “Aint got no, I got life,” from the musical Hair, only changed to include a folk fiddle counter melody over a hip-hop beat. Roald, stage right, turns to face the audience, his beard made up to look like his breath has frozen on it. He sings…]
I ain't got no virus, ain't got infection
Ain't got no COVID, ain't got disease
Ain't got no germs, ain't got pandemic
Ain't got contagion, ain't got corruption
Ain't got no bug.
[Dry ice starts flowing down the icebergs then stops on the stage right berg. A stage technician dressed in black with a hammer is seen entering the berg. Dancers, female, dressed as penguins enter from both sides of the stage. They are not social distancing. Roald and the band sing...]
We got snow we got penguins
We got penguins we got snow
We got snow and penguins
We got penguins and snow
Snow snow penguins snow.
[The dancing penguins join wings and start a high-kicking routine. The costumes are too restrictive to allow this and the dancer far right trips, bringing the line down like domimoes. As well as sweating, the bass player has turned bright red. Roald sings…]
I got my sled I got my huskies
I got my huskies I got my sled
I got my girl, we went to bed last night
And in the morning - this morning
She was six months pregnant.
[The bass players face goes from red to white. He faints. Proof that they were playing live is found in that his instrument starts feeding back. The rest of the band continue without missing a beat, the sound added to by hammering from the malfunctioning iceberg. It is exactly in time with the music. This technician is good. Roald and what is left the band sing…]
We got snow we got penguins
We got penguins we got snow
We got snow and penguins
We got penguins and snow
Snow snow penguins snow.
[Roald steps forward for the big finale, there is an explosion from the iceberg behind him sparks and black smoke go upwads. Roald is completely hidden in a massive cloud of dry ice. Undeterred he sings…]
We got snow, we got ice…
We got SEEEEE...EALS!
[As the dry ice fog clears two ambulance men with the technician on a stretcher are departing the stage and the last of the dancers has just got to her feet and is looking dazed.
<Two minutes later:> Still hidden in dry ice Roald is coughing.]
Yay! Seals! Dancing penguins! @Smudgie, you’ve just got to see this.
There you go, that ice machine worked a treat! Cough, cough....Excuse me, I think you’ll have to wait a while for the Liechtenstein entry; the beautiful Helena is *cough* somewhat indisposed. (allergy to goat’s hair and dry ice).
The Klingon Empire team is getting ready for battle. Loud yells and the sounds of fists on flesh, the breaking of glass. "There is no honour in love without pain!" is being chanted, alternating with "there's no honour in winning without blood!". There's a crowd that's joined in. Prune juice is being liberally drunk. Flashes of laser beams, stomping of feet, banging, laughter and more breakage. The Klingons are confident. They're also eyeing up the penguins: they look like dinner.
Thierry: Thanks for stepping in there Ann Tart Tikka. Love the icebergs. Your act was of Titanic proportions. We bet you don’t sink without a trace. I loved it so much that my heart will go on. Now where is Whales? Maybe they didn’t come on yet because they are blue.
Thierry: Thanks for stepping in there Ann Tart Tikka. Love the icebergs. Your act was of Titanic proportions. We bet you don’t sink without a trace. I loved it so much that my heart will go on. Now where is Whales? Maybe they didn’t come on yet because they are blue.
Worry not, Thierry. I’m sure the Whales entry will go swimmingly, ‘despout’ cross border difficulties.
Wales’ national treasures of comedy, Rob Brydon and Ruth Jones, appear on screen.
Rob: Hello Europe! And, um, well, everybody else really. We had planned to be with you in person, but unfortunately there’s been a slight hitch.
Ruth: Yeah, so this is what’s occurin’ round yere. We was all packed and ready to get Dave’s Coach to the contest. But then the Welsh First Minister said we had to stay home in Wales and there should be a cordon on the Severn Bridge. I thought, that’s easy, I know James well, he’s driven over here enough times. But now he’s in America singin’ in cars and playin’ in the traffic, he can’t be bothered comin’ over here to stand on a bridge and keep people out. So we thought we’d do it for him.
Rob: Of course Wales is famous for our singing, as evidenced by such luminaries as Tom Jones, Shirley Bassey and others who live, er, nowhere near. But tonight we have a real treat in store. To sing our song, may I introduce Luke Evans, recently seen as Gaston in the remake of Beauty and the Beast, who possesses a voice that will ensure 12 points from every country in hearing distance. And to back him up, the Pontypandy Stovepipe Hat Chorus. Of course this has had to be organised by Skype, and there may be a 20 second delay between North and South Wales, but we’ll do the best we can. Take it away, Luke and the ladies! (Silence) Oh, sorry. Luke can't be with us, but he's sent his singing teacher's auntie's brother, who apparently sounds pretty good after a couple of pints. Take it away then!
The old home town looks quiet, as I view it from my doorway
My friends are all so far away, it might as well be Norway
The green green grass is growing fast, it’s nearly up to the trees
And even Morgan the Organ has grown weary of pounding the keys
The rugby grounds are empty, and all the pubs are shut
We only see the postman when he calls out ‘Iya Butt!’
But we’ve got plenty of Welsh cakes, and cockles with laver bread
So we’ll binge-watch Gavin and Stacey, and drink Brains Bitter instead
‘Cause there’s no welcome in the hillside, no welcome in the vales
Please stay your own side of the Severn Bridge, don’t venture into Wales
It’s not because you’re English, don’t worry, me ol’ beauties
It’s just that we’re all staying home, ‘cause we don’t want your cooties
The chapel bells are muffled now upon the mountainside
But the Morriston Zoom Orpheus Choir sings ‘Lord, with me abide’
So we’ll sit here in our stovepipe hats, with our daffodils on display
And hope you’ll come to visit some time, but not till St David’s Day
‘Cause there’s no welcome in the hillside, no welcome in the vales
Please stay your own side of the Severn Bridge, don’t venture into Wales
You can keep Tom Jones and Shirley, and Anthony Hopkins too
We’ve got Katherine Jenkins and Michael Sheen, and they’ll just have to do
Bread of Heaven
Bread of Heaven
That’s where all the flour’s gone (flour’s gone)
That’s where all the flour’s gone!
There is an awkward silence while everyone figures out how to exit the skype call, and then the screen goes blank.
Wahoo, 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻, loved it, but I can’t vote for you as I’m just over the bridge 😛 and there’ll be no welcome in the valleys for me!
Nor me😕, but I predict a winner there! Whale done, Wales! 🐳
[Sounds of distant hammering from the Green room.] Wonder if that’s the Klingons revving up for battle? Or is it Wardrobe helping Helena’s backing group with last minute adjustments to their costumes? The originals fell foul of the social distancing regs.
Thankyou kindly, please send us your votes (And some money as we are being billed for auditorium repairs. We hope it stands up to the onslaught of the Kingon hoards.)
The Klingons are confident. They're also eyeing up the penguins: they look like dinner.
The dancers in the penguin costumes are looking frightened. One of them is also looking concussed. Unfortunately, when the band's stage costumes went missing they had already gone through costume and makeup and their other clothes got lost too, so they are having to stay as penguins until their clothes, or replacement clothes, can be found.
The Klingons are confident. They're also eyeing up the penguins: they look like dinner.
The dancers in the penguin costumes are looking frightened. One of them is also looking concussed. Unfortunately, when the band's stage costumes went missing they had already gone through costume and makeup and their other clothes got lost too, so they are having to stay as penguins until their clothes, or replacement clothes, can be found.
They’re not the only ones who are worried. Liechtenstein’s goats are refusing to come out of the dressing room, citing Equity Regs Part IV, Section 32 re use of Livestock in Live Performances. Poor Helena is distraught; goats are an intrinsic part of the performance.
Meanwhile, sounds of banging crashing and muffled yells are to be heard issuing from the Greenroom. No, it’s not the Klingons, it’s the remainder of tonight’s contestants, trying to squeeze their way past Helena’s backing group in their new, social-distance friendly stage costumes.
In an ear-splitting crash and clanging, the Klingons sieze the stage. Clouds of pink-tinged smoke surround them. It is quiet for a few seconds. The opera company stands motionless. Then, they look heaven-ward and yell. The organ blasts a a dysphonic fanfare, the words ""Aktuh and Melota" display in laser light on the pink clouds of smoke, and the tenor and the soprano sing in Klingon:
Kool ire lah lah... tuh hoo eer... ree eee see tah
lah oh vee eee... mah eee
The last note grows louder and louder, the chorus repeats the words louder and louder and louder, until there is a breif silence and the tenor and soprano starts singing in English:
Honour the valiant who die 'neath your sword
But pity the warrior who slays all her foes.
Hail the healer who bound her enemy's wounds
So she could fight him again.
With this the soprano takes out a sword and points it at the tenor, who raises his arms and sings:
Kill me not oh mighty woman, whose strength exceeds my own
I have slain my own brother for the love of you
She joins in, and it becomes a duet, her melody clashing with his:
I loved your brother better than I could ever love you
You deserve death not love, and I will drink of your blood
The chorus sings in equally clashing melodies:
He deserves her sword, he has killed dishonourably
Half of the chorus sings Love him!
Half of the chorus sings Slay him!
The music builds in a crescendo of clashing notes, drums and shrieks, as the tenor and soprano gaze upon each other with a mixture of hatred and love, the chorus all draw swords and begin fighting while singing:
Happy is the lover who stabs her mate and binds his wounds
proving herself worthy of battle and love,
The soprano stabs the tenor, and then sweeps him into her arms, singing more gently now
(there is no real gentle Klingon music):
I have drawn your blood, I have tasted it's sweetness, now I will marry you and you may cook for me, and care for our children.
The chorus sings:
Beware of your wife, she is a mighty warrior,
Beware of your wife, she is a strong warrior
There is a mighty blast from the organ, swords are thrown skyward and caught, they whole company yells and stomps, and the stage suddenly darkens to a single point of light: A Klingon looks out over the audience and says:
We are mighty, we are proud, we love you, you will love us if you dare. The Klingon Empire has an app you can download for your cell phones, it comes with free access to all Klingon operas and a coupon code for a medium prune juice at any grocery retailer, valid noly if you vote for us! K'plah!
Bravo! Well done! A masterly performance.👏🏻👏🏻 Truly...err...’different.’
Oh, and thanks for all your help with Helena’s backing group costumes; that was a real labour of love. Sorry to hear you had to use your understudy tenor, after the original was...erhm...indisposed. There’s a packet of Tums in the Green Room, help yourself.
And now...hoovering in the wings, ( well- if nobody else is waiting) are the bright hopes of Liechtenstein ready to make their Euro debut: Ladies and Gentlemen, Mesdames et Messieurs, Damen und Herren, I give you: the beautiful, the heavenly, Helena Belena and her SMBs (or SFBs if you speak Swiss German), with ‘ Vaduz Calling!’
A new dawn, as the sun rises against a typical alpine backdrop. A magnificent castle takes up at least half the stage, and in its courtyard we find the waif-like (not), Helena Belena, barefoot and clad in a simple silken gown. She is wearing what looks like a tree sprouting out of her head. She has a harp by her side and around her a herd of goats frolic in the morning dew.
Her backing group stand stage right...well...stage everywhere, actually, thanks to their new, social distance conforming dresses https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/3/37/1850-g-cruikshank-crinoline-parody.png. The Wardrobe Dept ran out of cloth , but ever gallant, the Klingons stepped in at the last moment and supplied some material from their own stores. The Del Monte Prune Juice logo adds that extra little touch of ethereality, notwithstanding that every time anybody moves, Helena’s vocals are drowned out by a clanging reminiscent of green recycling day.
So, to our song. A trill of a distant flute and Helena’s delicate tones ripple out across the mountainside:
“Vaduz caaaaaalllllllliiiiiiinnnng...
Waft me...oh waft me
Out over the mountains...
To the chamber of my heaaaarrrrtttt... (my heart)” [subdued clanging from the SMBs]
“My hearrrttt♥️
belongs to my homelaaaaannnnnd (my homelanndddd...).[picks up a passing goat and clasps it to her bosom]
Haven to the worldddd....oh the wooorld’s
wealth [oops! 😉 oh wealth [subtle ‘ting’ of a cash register registers somewhere offstage]
of the rolling mists, carry meeeeee...carry me
home over the Young Rhine, (the Young Rhinnneeeeeeeee!) “
[the haunting melody lingers in the air, at least, that’s the intention, although all the audience can really hear is the strangled bleating of a terrified goat! The dry ice machine is working overtime here.
Undaunted, Helena plucks at her harp with a glissando that’s meant to put listeners in mind of a distant call from fairyland. Back comes the echo from her backing group. It has all the musical quality of a herd of elephants with gastroenteritis. Never mind; Helena launches into the final verse. Cue massive key change as wndows crack, dogs howl and mountains tremble]
“Ach, du Lieber Lichtenstein....the dear, dearrrrrrrrrrrrr Liechstensteinnnnnnnnn.........
Waft, oh waft me ....ewww...[as she treads in a little ‘present’ left by the goat]
Out over the mountainssssssssss.....(oh, the mountains)
To the chamber of ...”.[From somewhere stage right she’s aware of a posse of goats eyeing her malevolently. She makes a snap decision]
“Oh, sod this! [She flings her harp over her shoulder] Come on everybody!”
[The Sweitzer Fraulein. Belles, for it is they, rip off their social distancing dresses, to reveal ‘traditional’ dirndl mini skirts and and bells ; grab an alpenhorn each, and together they launch into:]
“Boom bang- a - bang
Ding ding- a - dong
Tra la-la -la!
[repeat twice]
Boom bang- a - bang
Ooom pah- pah- paaaaaaaaaaa!!!”
Director: Where are the hosts? They have missed 3 songs already. Oh there you are where have you been?
Practice: Getting changed.
Director: For 3 songs?
Thierry: You didn’t look this good in 10 minutes you know (pushes past visibly upset)
Director: No it takes two minutes. Those trousers leave nothing to the imagination.
On Stage.
Thiery: We hope you enjoyed those songs now over to Practice in the green room.
Practice: I am here with Klingon entry. They are actually really nice guys and say I will be let out of these chains and the very large guards called off once they have won. Apparently I don’t want to know what happens if they lose.(Practice looks aghast). What are you doing with that penguin?
The Klingons have eaten all the Tums. They forgot about the chains, and everyone is unlocked. They want to know about Helena's tree and the goats. Which are tastier? goats or penguins? But distracted again and full of Tums, they're no longer hungry.
They love the alpenhorns, declaring them the instruments of true warriors. Never heard those before. Such wonders!! Would the Lichtensteiners like some prune juice? Would they like to do some joint yelling and breaking things as they play? just jam session fun mind you, no, we don't mean anything other than respect. Very impressive. Obviously they are true warriors!!
Strange. I could have sworn I saw the Irish rep posting just now, but a search of the stage and backstage area shows no sign, I hope they’ve not bumped into the Klingons. Poor Practice is looking extremely peaky.
Talking of Klingons, Helena and Co thank them for their kind invitation but on the advice of their agent (and from seeing what’s befalling Practice and that poor penguin), regret to inform them that the only Jam session they’re likely to engage in any time soon involves copious amounts of rhubarb, sugar, pectin and fresh, grated ginger.
Practice having escaped the Klingon entry has found shelter with the home team.
Practice: I am here with French entry Les Mamons. You are up soon how are you feeling.
LM: We cannot wait you get it over with...er that is get going.
Practice: Does being the home team give you an advantage?
LM: I certainly hope so, we need to win this thing soon...er no it is up the wonderful voting people.
Assuming I am at a safe distance (looks around nervously), the Klingon entry was, well, a bit too noisy for my taste 😬.
Helena Belena, that was magnificent! Took me right back to my hippy dippy, flower power days ... 😌.
Meanwhile, having recovered from a prolonged coughing fit Rauld has introduced the Klingons to alcohol. A cocktail of vodka and prune juice called (in tribute to vodka and orange juice being a screwdriver) pile driver. Drinks are going down at an alarming rate, glasses and furniture are getting smashed and they are all in a good mood.
The Klingons are rapping epic poems now, it is considered the height of honour to recite off-the-cuff poetry: We thought Earth was all a hic town,
piledriver drinks are sure going down,
Prune juice and vodka sure is swell,
break something fast and stomp like hell!!
Meanwhile, having recovered from a prolonged coughing fit Rauld has introduced the Klingons to alcohol. A cocktail of vodka and prune juice called (in tribute to vodka and orange juice being a screwdriver) pile driver. Drinks are going down at an alarming rate, glasses and furniture are getting smashed and they are all in a good mood.
@Doone , watch out! This isn’t Mrs Flowerdew’s WI Special we’re talking about here. This is lethal stuff!🥵
Meanwhile, having recovered from a prolonged coughing fit Rauld has introduced the Klingons to alcohol. A cocktail of vodka and prune juice called (in tribute to vodka and orange juice being a screwdriver) pile driver. Drinks are going down at an alarming rate, glasses and furniture are getting smashed and they are all in a good mood.
@Doone , watch out! This isn’t Mrs Flowerdew’s WI Special we’re talking about here. This is lethal stuff!🥵
Many thanks for the warning, Miffy 😱! Er, do you think we could get Mrs Flowerdew and her WI in if things turn nasty with the Klingons?
Hey!!!! Liechtenstein stole our castle!!! We were wondering where it had wandered off to. And the Klingons stole our swords!!! That's OK. We now have their bat'leths.
Hey!!!! Liechtenstein stole our castle!!! We were wondering where it had wandered off to. And the Klingons stole our swords!!! That's OK. We now have their bat'leths.
USA...wielders of the weapons of mighty warriors.
Cut to scene of @jedijudy and the Liechtensteiners tug of warring with the castle. “Mine! No, mine!! 😤😠
I can possibly drag the Italian contestants onto the stage for tomorrow. Fortunately we're going for the minimalist staging ballad look, so as long as it's not a complete health hazard out there, and the big screen is working, the stage hands can spend their time trying to fix the green room.
The Klingons are enjoying the show and the piledriver drinks. They're asking if they can fight the winner
of the castle fight.
Now can we please bear some more alpenhorn if there's no more contestants ready to go?
Oh, what a shame! It’s a draw. (The lyricist has family ties with the good old US of A, and wishes to maintain amicable relations for when the borders are opened and travel restrictions lifted).
But it looks as if your threats are working.
Cue shouts of “We want France...No, we want Italy” from the arena, and muffled cries from Practice back in the Green room.
Practice: No I am not leaving this cupboard.
Dirctor: But your being paid.
Practice: I don't care
Director: I'll tell the Klingons where you are?
Practice: OK but I want an armed guard.
(Practice joins Thiery on stage)
Thiery: and now it's the turn of the home team.
Practice: Madam et Monsure et vous les Enfant.
Both : Singing for France Les Mamans
The Mamans are already on stage as the lights fade up. They are gathered round an oven and are dressed in dowdy dresses. They smile at each other as the music starts. Slowly, the music increases temp. As it reaches its crescendo one Maman pulls a tray of baguettes from out of the oven. There is a flash of brilliant white light and suddenly the Maman are wearing Can Can dresses.
Mamans (in French). What makes you feel proud to be French? What makes you sing La Marseilles? What is more famous than Judy Dench? What could we sing about for days? (In close harmony) But we only have 3 minutes?
La baguette, la baguette there is nothing to beat la baguette. La baguette la baguette the greatest bread you bet.
In sunshine, snow rain hail, on road or sea or rail. There’s nothing better, when the weathers wetter.
It a pain (pan) not a pain. In England, Wales or Spain, the breads are not as good. I never thought they could be.
There is nothing that can beat La baguette.
(The music quickens and the Mamans go into a complicated Can Can, full of yells and whoops. Behind them the screens show various Parisian land marks. The Eiffel Tower, the pyramid at the Louvre, the Arc de Triumph, and Sacré-Coeur all made from baguettes)
Maman: La baguette la baguette it’s the best bread yet. La baguette La baguette its game match and set.
(They start singing to a slow crescendo)
In the 14th 17th and 3rd this cry can be heard
In the bar, cafes and streets this shout cannot be beat.
From the tombs at Pére-Lachaise
The voices are raised.
There is no other one
When made by Maman
We all love (The Maman perform flying splits in cannon)
La Baguette.
(Blackout)
Comments
Thiery: No we are not going on. After we sang last time people laughed at us in the street.
Director: They will have forgotten by now.
Practice: No we are not going on. Stop pushing me. No we are not go... Oh. Good evening ladies and gentlemen and welcome to the 2020 Ship Eurovision.
Thiery: We are in for a great night tonight and the director is in for a thick ear. Anyway on with our first act. From the land of giant mammals the enrty from Whales
OK, that's the set done. Everyone's learned their parts? No? Get to work!
Dancers. Dancers. Dancers!!!!! Whoever is spewing out flowers and birds, clean it up!
Have you tried combining celtic drippy and Alamannic oompah cultures? After the last rehearsal, the lyricist had to go away and lie down in a darkened room with an ice pack on her head.😟
Alpenhorns aren’t designed to play pianissimo and Helena Belena is complaining that the harp strings are ruining her nails.
Meanwhile the technical wizard is sitting in their own darkened room madly editing slightly dodgy home video footage of aged relatives, (well we couldn't go in to get it done professionally) to form the visual background on the screen, without extraneous cats or unsightly piles of kitchen detritus.
As far as the lyricist is concerned that's being done on the fly with the help of the cookery book and Wikipedia!
I really have no idea what you’re talking about...😉 Liechtenstein’s representative has not been mixing with any of the other contestants; in fact she’s ensconced in her dressing room at this very moment, communing with her inner goddess.
@Firenze ‘s Bill has worked wonders drumming up supporters in the ‘More Tea, Vicar?’ thread. [Distant echo of “We want Wales! We want Wales!]
Miffy OTOH, has been banned from posting in The Circus.
Tired of waiting for Wales, Antarctica decide to take to the stage.
<Hammering is heard as the stage is reset.>
Roald Amm & Son singing “We got penguins,”
<The missing costumes are yet to be found.>
[The staging is all in white. Perspex icebergs stage right and stage left are glowing from coloured lights on the inside.]
[In front and to stage left are the band consisting of a drummer and keyboardist in front of whom are a guitarist, bass player, and violinist, their instruments, like the icebergs, made of perspex. Someone must have rescued the instruments from the 1970s. The band are wearing parkas, the effect of the parkas and the stage lighting is obvious: The musicians are visibly sweating.]
[The music starts. The tune starts, it has a marked similarity to “Aint got no, I got life,” from the musical Hair, only changed to include a folk fiddle counter melody over a hip-hop beat. Roald, stage right, turns to face the audience, his beard made up to look like his breath has frozen on it. He sings…]
[Dry ice starts flowing down the icebergs then stops on the stage right berg. A stage technician dressed in black with a hammer is seen entering the berg. Dancers, female, dressed as penguins enter from both sides of the stage. They are not social distancing. Roald and the band sing...]
[The dancing penguins join wings and start a high-kicking routine. The costumes are too restrictive to allow this and the dancer far right trips, bringing the line down like domimoes. As well as sweating, the bass player has turned bright red. Roald sings…]
[The bass players face goes from red to white. He faints. Proof that they were playing live is found in that his instrument starts feeding back. The rest of the band continue without missing a beat, the sound added to by hammering from the malfunctioning iceberg. It is exactly in time with the music. This technician is good. Roald and what is left the band sing…]
[Roald steps forward for the big finale, there is an explosion from the iceberg behind him sparks and black smoke go upwads. Roald is completely hidden in a massive cloud of dry ice. Undeterred he sings…]
[As the dry ice fog clears two ambulance men with the technician on a stretcher are departing the stage and the last of the dancers has just got to her feet and is looking dazed.
<Two minutes later:> Still hidden in dry ice Roald is coughing.]
There you go, that ice machine worked a treat! Cough, cough....Excuse me, I think you’ll have to wait a while for the Liechtenstein entry; the beautiful Helena is *cough* somewhat indisposed. (allergy to goat’s hair and dry ice).
Worry not, Thierry. I’m sure the Whales entry will go swimmingly, ‘despout’ cross border difficulties.
Rob: Hello Europe! And, um, well, everybody else really. We had planned to be with you in person, but unfortunately there’s been a slight hitch.
Ruth: Yeah, so this is what’s occurin’ round yere. We was all packed and ready to get Dave’s Coach to the contest. But then the Welsh First Minister said we had to stay home in Wales and there should be a cordon on the Severn Bridge. I thought, that’s easy, I know James well, he’s driven over here enough times. But now he’s in America singin’ in cars and playin’ in the traffic, he can’t be bothered comin’ over here to stand on a bridge and keep people out. So we thought we’d do it for him.
Rob: Of course Wales is famous for our singing, as evidenced by such luminaries as Tom Jones, Shirley Bassey and others who live, er, nowhere near. But tonight we have a real treat in store. To sing our song, may I introduce Luke Evans, recently seen as Gaston in the remake of Beauty and the Beast, who possesses a voice that will ensure 12 points from every country in hearing distance. And to back him up, the Pontypandy Stovepipe Hat Chorus. Of course this has had to be organised by Skype, and there may be a 20 second delay between North and South Wales, but we’ll do the best we can. Take it away, Luke and the ladies! (Silence) Oh, sorry. Luke can't be with us, but he's sent his singing teacher's auntie's brother, who apparently sounds pretty good after a couple of pints. Take it away then!
The old home town looks quiet, as I view it from my doorway
My friends are all so far away, it might as well be Norway
The green green grass is growing fast, it’s nearly up to the trees
And even Morgan the Organ has grown weary of pounding the keys
The rugby grounds are empty, and all the pubs are shut
We only see the postman when he calls out ‘Iya Butt!’
But we’ve got plenty of Welsh cakes, and cockles with laver bread
So we’ll binge-watch Gavin and Stacey, and drink Brains Bitter instead
‘Cause there’s no welcome in the hillside, no welcome in the vales
Please stay your own side of the Severn Bridge, don’t venture into Wales
It’s not because you’re English, don’t worry, me ol’ beauties
It’s just that we’re all staying home, ‘cause we don’t want your cooties
The chapel bells are muffled now upon the mountainside
But the Morriston Zoom Orpheus Choir sings ‘Lord, with me abide’
So we’ll sit here in our stovepipe hats, with our daffodils on display
And hope you’ll come to visit some time, but not till St David’s Day
‘Cause there’s no welcome in the hillside, no welcome in the vales
Please stay your own side of the Severn Bridge, don’t venture into Wales
You can keep Tom Jones and Shirley, and Anthony Hopkins too
We’ve got Katherine Jenkins and Michael Sheen, and they’ll just have to do
Bread of Heaven
Bread of Heaven
That’s where all the flour’s gone (flour’s gone)
That’s where all the flour’s gone!
There is an awkward silence while everyone figures out how to exit the skype call, and then the screen goes blank.
Nor me😕, but I predict a winner there! Whale done, Wales! 🐳
[Sounds of distant hammering from the Green room.] Wonder if that’s the Klingons revving up for battle? Or is it Wardrobe helping Helena’s backing group with last minute adjustments to their costumes? The originals fell foul of the social distancing regs.
@NOprophet_NØprofit , can you enlighten us?
Thankyou kindly, please send us your votes (And some money as we are being billed for auditorium repairs. We hope it stands up to the onslaught of the Kingon hoards.)
The dancers in the penguin costumes are looking frightened. One of them is also looking concussed. Unfortunately, when the band's stage costumes went missing they had already gone through costume and makeup and their other clothes got lost too, so they are having to stay as penguins until their clothes, or replacement clothes, can be found.
They’re not the only ones who are worried. Liechtenstein’s goats are refusing to come out of the dressing room, citing Equity Regs Part IV, Section 32 re use of Livestock in Live Performances. Poor Helena is distraught; goats are an intrinsic part of the performance.
Meanwhile, sounds of banging crashing and muffled yells are to be heard issuing from the Greenroom. No, it’s not the Klingons, it’s the remainder of tonight’s contestants, trying to squeeze their way past Helena’s backing group in their new, social-distance friendly stage costumes.
Kool ire lah lah... tuh hoo eer... ree eee see tah
lah oh vee eee... mah eee
The last note grows louder and louder, the chorus repeats the words louder and louder and louder, until there is a breif silence and the tenor and soprano starts singing in English:
Honour the valiant who die 'neath your sword
But pity the warrior who slays all her foes.
Hail the healer who bound her enemy's wounds
So she could fight him again.
With this the soprano takes out a sword and points it at the tenor, who raises his arms and sings:
Kill me not oh mighty woman, whose strength exceeds my own
I have slain my own brother for the love of you
She joins in, and it becomes a duet, her melody clashing with his:
I loved your brother better than I could ever love you
You deserve death not love, and I will drink of your blood
The chorus sings in equally clashing melodies:
He deserves her sword, he has killed dishonourably
Half of the chorus sings Love him!
Half of the chorus sings Slay him!
The music builds in a crescendo of clashing notes, drums and shrieks, as the tenor and soprano gaze upon each other with a mixture of hatred and love, the chorus all draw swords and begin fighting while singing:
Happy is the lover who stabs her mate and binds his wounds
proving herself worthy of battle and love,
The soprano stabs the tenor, and then sweeps him into her arms, singing more gently now
(there is no real gentle Klingon music):
I have drawn your blood, I have tasted it's sweetness, now I will marry you and you may cook for me, and care for our children.
The chorus sings:
Beware of your wife, she is a mighty warrior,
Beware of your wife, she is a strong warrior
There is a mighty blast from the organ, swords are thrown skyward and caught, they whole company yells and stomps, and the stage suddenly darkens to a single point of light: A Klingon looks out over the audience and says:
We are mighty, we are proud, we love you, you will love us if you dare. The Klingon Empire has an app you can download for your cell phones, it comes with free access to all Klingon operas and a coupon code for a medium prune juice at any grocery retailer, valid noly if you vote for us! K'plah!
Oh, and thanks for all your help with Helena’s backing group costumes; that was a real labour of love. Sorry to hear you had to use your understudy tenor, after the original was...erhm...indisposed. There’s a packet of Tums in the Green Room, help yourself.
to be continued...
A new dawn, as the sun rises against a typical alpine backdrop. A magnificent castle takes up at least half the stage, and in its courtyard we find the waif-like (not), Helena Belena, barefoot and clad in a simple silken gown. She is wearing what looks like a tree sprouting out of her head. She has a harp by her side and around her a herd of goats frolic in the morning dew.
Her backing group stand stage right...well...stage everywhere, actually, thanks to their new, social distance conforming dresses https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/3/37/1850-g-cruikshank-crinoline-parody.png. The Wardrobe Dept ran out of cloth , but ever gallant, the Klingons stepped in at the last moment and supplied some material from their own stores. The Del Monte Prune Juice logo adds that extra little touch of ethereality, notwithstanding that every time anybody moves, Helena’s vocals are drowned out by a clanging reminiscent of green recycling day.
So, to our song. A trill of a distant flute and Helena’s delicate tones ripple out across the mountainside:
“Vaduz caaaaaalllllllliiiiiiinnnng...
Waft me...oh waft me
Out over the mountains...
To the chamber of my heaaaarrrrtttt... (my heart)” [subdued clanging from the SMBs]
“My hearrrttt♥️
belongs to my homelaaaaannnnnd (my homelanndddd...).[picks up a passing goat and clasps it to her bosom]
Haven to the worldddd....oh the wooorld’s
wealth [oops! 😉 oh wealth [subtle ‘ting’ of a cash register registers somewhere offstage]
of the rolling mists, carry meeeeee...carry me
home over the Young Rhine, (the Young Rhinnneeeeeeeee!) “
[the haunting melody lingers in the air, at least, that’s the intention, although all the audience can really hear is the strangled bleating of a terrified goat! The dry ice machine is working overtime here.
Undaunted, Helena plucks at her harp with a glissando that’s meant to put listeners in mind of a distant call from fairyland. Back comes the echo from her backing group. It has all the musical quality of a herd of elephants with gastroenteritis. Never mind; Helena launches into the final verse. Cue massive key change as wndows crack, dogs howl and mountains tremble]
“Ach, du Lieber Lichtenstein....the dear, dearrrrrrrrrrrrr Liechstensteinnnnnnnnn.........
Waft, oh waft me ....ewww...[as she treads in a little ‘present’ left by the goat]
Out over the mountainssssssssss.....(oh, the mountains)
To the chamber of ...”.[From somewhere stage right she’s aware of a posse of goats eyeing her malevolently. She makes a snap decision]
“Oh, sod this! [She flings her harp over her shoulder] Come on everybody!”
[The Sweitzer Fraulein. Belles, for it is they, rip off their social distancing dresses, to reveal ‘traditional’ dirndl mini skirts and and bells ; grab an alpenhorn each, and together they launch into:]
“Boom bang- a - bang
Ding ding- a - dong
Tra la-la -la!
[repeat twice]
Boom bang- a - bang
Ooom pah- pah- paaaaaaaaaaa!!!”
Lyrics and music ©️ Alpenhorn Enterprises, 2005, 2020
'I thought she was a nun'.
'Easy mistake to make'.
Practice: Getting changed.
Director: For 3 songs?
Thierry: You didn’t look this good in 10 minutes you know (pushes past visibly upset)
Director: No it takes two minutes. Those trousers leave nothing to the imagination.
On Stage.
Thiery: We hope you enjoyed those songs now over to Practice in the green room.
Practice: I am here with Klingon entry. They are actually really nice guys and say I will be let out of these chains and the very large guards called off once they have won. Apparently I don’t want to know what happens if they lose.(Practice looks aghast). What are you doing with that penguin?
Great phrase.
They love the alpenhorns, declaring them the instruments of true warriors. Never heard those before. Such wonders!! Would the Lichtensteiners like some prune juice? Would they like to do some joint yelling and breaking things as they play? just jam session fun mind you, no, we don't mean anything other than respect. Very impressive. Obviously they are true warriors!!
Talking of Klingons, Helena and Co thank them for their kind invitation but on the advice of their agent (and from seeing what’s befalling Practice and that poor penguin), regret to inform them that the only Jam session they’re likely to engage in any time soon involves copious amounts of rhubarb, sugar, pectin and fresh, grated ginger.
Practice: I am here with French entry Les Mamons. You are up soon how are you feeling.
LM: We cannot wait you get it over with...er that is get going.
Practice: Does being the home team give you an advantage?
LM: I certainly hope so, we need to win this thing soon...er no it is up the wonderful voting people.
Helena Belena, that was magnificent! Took me right back to my hippy dippy, flower power days ... 😌.
We thought Earth was all a hic town,
piledriver drinks are sure going down,
Prune juice and vodka sure is swell,
break something fast and stomp like hell!!
'Went for a fish supper.'
'Makes sense.'
@Doone , watch out! This isn’t Mrs Flowerdew’s WI Special we’re talking about here. This is lethal stuff!🥵
Many thanks for the warning, Miffy 😱! Er, do you think we could get Mrs Flowerdew and her WI in if things turn nasty with the Klingons?
USA...wielders of the weapons of mighty warriors.
Sponsor: Buy our stuff
Thiery: well you can’t say fairer than that.
Sponsors? Prune juice?🤨 No wonder there’s been no sight nor sniff of a contestant for hours.
Cut to scenes of debauchery and destruction in the Green Room
If we don’t get a move on, the powers that be are threatening to put Helena back on stage to reprise ‘Vaduz Calling.’
Anything but that! (Pleassee)
Cut to scene of @jedijudy and the Liechtensteiners tug of warring with the castle. “Mine! No, mine!! 😤😠
of the castle fight.
Now can we please bear some more alpenhorn if there's no more contestants ready to go?
Oh, what a shame! It’s a draw. (The lyricist has family ties with the good old US of A, and wishes to maintain amicable relations for when the borders are opened and travel restrictions lifted).
But it looks as if your threats are working.
Cue shouts of “We want France...No, we want Italy” from the arena, and muffled cries from Practice back in the Green room.
Dirctor: But your being paid.
Practice: I don't care
Director: I'll tell the Klingons where you are?
Practice: OK but I want an armed guard.
(Practice joins Thiery on stage)
Thiery: and now it's the turn of the home team.
Practice: Madam et Monsure et vous les Enfant.
Both : Singing for France Les Mamans
Mamans (in French). What makes you feel proud to be French? What makes you sing La Marseilles? What is more famous than Judy Dench? What could we sing about for days? (In close harmony) But we only have 3 minutes?
La baguette, la baguette there is nothing to beat la baguette. La baguette la baguette the greatest bread you bet.
In sunshine, snow rain hail, on road or sea or rail. There’s nothing better, when the weathers wetter.
It a pain (pan) not a pain. In England, Wales or Spain, the breads are not as good. I never thought they could be.
There is nothing that can beat La baguette.
(The music quickens and the Mamans go into a complicated Can Can, full of yells and whoops. Behind them the screens show various Parisian land marks. The Eiffel Tower, the pyramid at the Louvre, the Arc de Triumph, and Sacré-Coeur all made from baguettes)
Maman: La baguette la baguette it’s the best bread yet. La baguette La baguette its game match and set.
(They start singing to a slow crescendo)
In the 14th 17th and 3rd this cry can be heard
In the bar, cafes and streets this shout cannot be beat.
From the tombs at Pére-Lachaise
The voices are raised.
There is no other one
When made by Maman
We all love (The Maman perform flying splits in cannon)
La Baguette.
(Blackout)
NO! A baguette in the hands of a Klingon would be a weapon. (Just as they are with the average Breton,)
Eek! My mistake 😬, sorry!