Heaven: Ship's Eurovision Song Contest

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  • MiffyMiffy Shipmate
    ...And the lights come up to spotlight Hels-Bels, her grim, unsmiling visage complementing a backdrop of just two images: of a battleaxe and a grinning skull. Hels is wearing what looks like a black shift dress, with the stark message, Alas, poor Yorick! emblazoned across it. Her feet are bare, less a message of vulnerability, more because her Doc Martens went missing from the green room an hour before the off.

    The Danish conductor lifts his baton, there's a roll of drums, crash of cymbals and a blast of brass, the combination of which puts the more sensitive members of the audience in mind of a piano falling down a mineshaft.

    Then the spotlight swings back to Hels, as she glares out over the auditorium and sings:

    ENTER THE BATTLEGROUND!
    THE BUILDING BLOCKS OF GENDER EQUITY
    CONSTRUCT A NEW FUTURE FOR TODAY'S CHILDREN.
    THE TIRED RHETORIC OF THE STIFLERS OF CREATIVITY
    IS GROUND UNDERFOOT Ouch! (treads on stray piece of lego)
    BY A NEW GENERATION.
    TO ARMS!
    (Chorus)
    ENTER THE BATTLEGROUND!
    ENTER THE...(camera pans over to the Hygge Men)

    As a Viking ship is slowly lowered down on to the stage, three tall figures can be seen silhouetted against a backdrop of stormy skies. As it comes to rest behind Hels, a jagged streak of lightning lights up the auditorium. The audience gasp, as, to the sound of a roll of drums, Hels turns round to face them, opens her arms wide and....Bjorn, Olaf and Eric brandish their battleaxes and burst into song:

    "Cashmere and comfy chairs,
    tealights burn low.
    Stoke up your woodburner,
    'Gainst (Irish) snow.
    Drink some Glogg in your hyggekrog (cosy nook),
    Snuggle up too.
    Say Ja to Hygge,
    and I will love you."

    What on earth?! Horrified - Hels tries to break in, only to tread on that piece of lego again. Desperate, she turns to the orchestra to help, only to find Dr Olsensen on the conductor's podium, smiling smugly as he counts the Hygge Men in for a second verse:

    "Hipsters and baggy pants,
    Cool Jul we say.
    Crime on the Oresund Bridge,
    Can't keep away.
    Dancing cows, designer lamps,
    An omelet or two.
    Say Ja to Hygge
    and I will love you.

    Tinkling bells,
    Bacon smells
    A leggy blonde or two.
    Say Ja to Hygge,
    and I will love you."

    A herd of dancing cows sashay onto the stage and the Hygge Men rip off their cloaks to reveal baggy trousers, motheaten jumpers and fluffy slippers. As the orchestra swing into a reprise, tealights can be seen flickering on the bulwarks (Gill H - " I said, the bulwarks!") of the Ship. The audience rise as one and join the Hygge Men, cows and a disgruntled Hels in a chorus of :

    A LITTLE HYGGE, A LITTLE HYGGE
    A LITTLE HYGGE, A LITTLE HYGGE
    A LITTLE HYGGE, A LITTLE HYGGE
    A LITTLE HYGGE, A LITTLE...

    There's a sudden, almighty blast of an alpenhorn, (Who did that?! Terrified, the cows jump off the stage and stampede their way through the audience, flattening several Euro Officials, a posse of TV reporters and several of the waiting competitors.

    The whole auditorium is plunged into darkness.

    " Ladies and Gentlemen, Damen und Hairies, Mesdames et Messies, we hope you enjoyed our offering from Denmark, Land of The Vikings."



  • balaambalaam Shipmate
    Laydeeez and Gentle men., The next act up is Belorus.

    Promo film:
    The narrator tells of the Passarola, the first ever airship, which was Portuguese. Film of an airship flying over. The camera pans down to Cabo de Roca, the westernmost point of continental Europe. Fade out, fading in to a herd of goats on a nearby hillside, being driven by Francysk and his two backing singers. Their mouths smile, but their eyes tell you they’d rather be elsewhere. Fade out, leaving only Francysk’s droopy moustache.

    Cut back to the arena.

    Stage left:
    A troop of folk musicians, all female. Two violinists, a button accordion player, a musician playing what appears to be two recorders at the same time (possibly Georgian salamuri), one long and one short, and a drummer with a single side drum. They wear traditional costume except that the skirts are split to the waist, each revealing a long slender left leg and not very traditional stiletto heeled shoes.

    Stage right.
    Two keyboard players,, both male stand behind modern keyboards on slender stands. They wear black shoes and leather trousers which are very tight from the knee up. Their oiled naked upper bodies glisten in the stage lights. They obviously spend most of their lives in a gymnasium. The aroma of 3 in one wafts through the arena. They play their instruments in a style that passes for modern in Eurovision, but which the rest of the world calls 1980s techno.

    Francysk Zapparyna stands a little behind them, stage centre, he wears the same tight leather trousers and his white shirt is open to the navel. Behind him are two female backing singers, their black floor length white skirts are split to the waist at both sides, and they also wear white shirts open to the navel; the décolletage is impressive.

    As the music starts Franc moves forward and sings. Green lasers fan out through smoke at the very back of the stage.

    Hey, hey, hey, hey,
    Hey, hey, hey hey,
    Hey, hey, hey, hey,
    One, two,three four.

    (Verse: The techno beat changes to waltz time, the folk instruments take over. Franc puts on an earnest face. )

    Existentialism
    Is not all it first seems to be
    If you pause and reflect, you will never reject
    You’ll end up agreeing with me.

    (Chorus: back to techno beat)

    I have a little goat,
    He has a shiny coat.
    When he escapes his pen
    He always falls into the moat

    Hey, hey, hey, hey (x3)
    Uno, dos, tres, cuatro

    (Verse)

    A fellow from Hronda came over,
    And went out with my fair daughter Lydia.
    After a while she came back with a smile,
    A new diamond ring and chlamydia

    (Chorus - a goat walks on to the stage, confused by the lights it plops and races back to the wings. a dancer in a badly fitting goat costume enters to replace it.)

    I have a little goat,
    He has a shiny coat.
    When he escapes his pen
    He always falls into the moat

    Hey, hey, hey, hey (x3)
    Eins zwei drei vier.

    (Instrumental chorus, folk musicians join in over techno beat. The cameras ignore the musicians, trying to find the best shot down a backing singer’s cleavage.)

    (Key change)

    I have a little goat
    He has a shiny coat
    And when I eat my stew
    His little bones stick in my throat

    Hey, hey, hey, hey (x3)
    Un deux trois quatre
    GOAT!

    (Stage flares go off, someone has been over enthusiastic with the flash powder and the singers, musicians and dancer are blow off their feet. When the smoke clears the goat wanders back onto the stage,)
  • MiffyMiffy Shipmate
    Belarus- I’m speechless! :)

    Might be worth someone contacting Health and Safety, what with the goats and cows and all wandering around. There’s been enough damage done and we’re only two songs down.
  • Gill HGill H Shipmate
    Good evening, bon soir, good day and howdy again to all our lovely Eurovision audience. I hope you have enjoyed the start of what promises to be a unique evening of entertainment.

    (Treads on stray piece of leftover Lego and hops up and down, screaming in three languages, none of which are broadcastable. Eventually treads in goat poop and exits, sobbing "That's the last time I do a cruise gig!")
  • ClimacusClimacus Shipmate
    Georgia loved the visual delights and extravaganzas of the wonderful preceding acts, which had them shouting "douze points" from the green room raucously, interrupting an interview on the sofa next to them.

    Postcard:
    Where else but Porto? They go through a (real) door to a port merchant, there laughing and having a good old time. The owner signals it's closing time. The Georgians laugh.

    Entry:
    Mt Kazbek's Georgian Ensemble for the Pleasure of Young and Old singing "Crush those grapes"

    The spotlights light up 3 men standing, topless and with shorty shorts, in 3 wine vats filled to the brim with grapes. A salamuri's mystical call fills the air.

    The men's legs get to work as they begin...

    Crush, crush, crush those grapes
    Crush, crush, crush those grapes
    Do it til your legs ache
    Crush, crush, crush those grapes!

    A piano joins in this haunting tune...

    It's harvest tiiiiiiiiiiime,
    When a young man's thoughts turn to love.
    But we've got work to do.
    Before we can play, my dove.

    The grapes have been picked (have been picked)
    The grapes have been sorted (have been sorted)
    They have been placed in vats
    So we can do what we oughta (do what we oughta...aaaaaaaa...aaaaaaaa)

    Chorus repeats, while our 3 wine stompers wave their hands in a rhythm that doesn't quite the match the slow nature of the musical accompaniment.

    Second verse:
    The wine has been bottled
    It's time to share with family and friend.
    With some badrijan nigzit*
    We'll drink each bottle to the ennnnnnnd...to the ennnnnnnnd...

    At this point the stage is lit in lights, pyrotechnics explode, several electric guitars overpower the more modest instruments and our boys jump out of their vats, headbanging and doing Peter Garrett-like dances. It really goes on for 15 seconds but feels like it has surpassed the 3 minute rule on its own.

    3 buxom beauties (lost Polish milkmaids from 2014?) appear, each linking hands with a wine presser. The song, unfortunately, continues, with one of the largest key changes ever inflicted on humanity:

    And now our work is done
    We can have some fun.
    Let's steal a bottle of wine or two
    And let's escape, just me and you...me and yoooooooouuuuu...

    CRUSH THOSE GRAPES!!!


    The applause is muted. But they don't care. In a bid to get as many votes as possible they each in turn shout Thank you, Gracias, Merci, Danke, Tak, Obrigado, Спасибо...

    And have to be forced off the stage.



    *Roasted eggplant strips, served flat and topped with walnut paste.


  • MiffyMiffy Shipmate
    Gill H wrote: »
    Good evening, bon soir, good day and howdy again to all our lovely Eurovision audience. I hope you have enjoyed the start of what promises to be a unique evening of entertainment.

    (Treads on stray piece of leftover Lego and hops up and down, screaming in three languages, none of which are broadcastable. Eventually treads in goat poop and exits, sobbing "That's the last time I do a cruise gig!")

    Watch where you’re treading, Angela. Backstage is swimming in a gourmet mix of more goat poop, crushed grapes and stray veruccae.
  • Gill HGill H Shipmate
    Hello again, wonderful Eurovision watchers. I hope you like my new gown and glamorous shoes, which are entirely free of goat poop and (through clenched teeth) need to stay that way for the rest of the evening.

    Thank you to Georgia for that enlightening glimpse into their rich cultural heritage.

    I gather that the French entry is ready to take the stage. Seasoned Ship Eurovision fans may remember Thierry and Practice from a previous contest, and I'm sure their act this year will make just as indelible impression on us all. Please welcome, for France - Thierry and Practice!
  • HugalHugal Shipmate
    The stage is bathed in red, white and blue light. It bounces off dry ice flooding the stage. Thierry and Practice appear from out of the smoke dressed in outfits designed around the French Flag.

    Quiet music murmurs in the background, a large model of Mont Blanc rises above them, and T takes up a position on one side of the mountain and P on the other.

    T: (climbing one side) We gave you croissants and Chablis and chocolate éclairs
    P: (climbing the other side) We gave you Sartre, and Descartes, and Sacha Distel
    T: We gave you Eiffel, and Champagne and Jules Guyot pears
    P: We gave you gave you Can-Can, Baguettes and Piaf as well

    (T and P have reached the top of the mountain and sing together.)

    There’s one thing we want you to dooooooooooo

    (They jump off the top of the mountain. Parachutes of the French flag open and they land safely. The music kicks into a heavy beat.)

    Please vote for us. Please vote for us,
    or we’ll stamp our feet and we’ll be sick
    Please vote for us.


    (A giant model of a chocolate éclair comes on. Out of it pop two dancers dressed as Profiteroles. They dance a frantic dance to a grunge version of La Marseillaise.)

    Please vote for us. Please vote for us
    or we’ll hold our breath till we turn blue
    Please vote for us.


    (A model of the Moulin Rouge comes on and two can-can dancers come out. They start running around the stage at the same time as the Profiteroles. The can-can dancers perform a series of kicks and end up doing the flying splits together in the middle of the stage. Unfortunately due to their cumbersome outfits the Profiteroles don’t see them, and trip over them just as T and P are walking through the middle. The Profiteroles land of top of T and P who somehow manage to crawl out from under them to perform the last chorus.)

    Please vote for us. Please vote for us,
    or we’ll take all our money away (worried looks from the organisers of the contest)
    Please vote for us.

    (Meanwhile the Profiteroles are being rolled off the stage and the can-can girls are being carried off on stretchers.)

    Music to fade

    (Backstage the French organisation team are talking.)

    Leader: Well at least they kept their clothes on
    2nd: Er, Sir…
    Leader: Oh no, not on live television. Oh well, it might get us some votes.
  • Gill HGill H Shipmate
    (Rushing on hastily) Thank you France, merci and au revoir. And please don't forget your outfits. Again.

    Now then viewers, wasn't that a wonderful treat? Certainly a chance to enjoy all the wonderful things that France is so well known for. Well, some of them, anyway.

    So on to the next entry. I wonder, viewers, if you can guess who it will be?
  • MiffyMiffy Shipmate
    Wipes eyes..... :cry: Tierry et Practice, that was your best performance ever!
  • HugalHugal Shipmate
    Who’s next?
  • jedijudyjedijudy Heaven Host
    The Matlacha Oyster Shuckers, representing the US, will be onstage soon. They got caught in a little pre-hurricane season storm and will be back onshore soonish!
    Three hour tour, balderdash!
  • Gill HGill H Shipmate
    While we await the Oyster Shuckers (and that's not easy to say without offending someone) here I am in the Green Room, talking to Hels-Bels Alpenhorn.

    Fortunately I have been stalking, oops, I mean following you on social media for several weeks now so I know many things about you! And the most important question is ... what do you like to eat for breakfast, bacon or pastries? So many good breakfast options come from Denmark!
  • MiffyMiffy Shipmate
    Gill H wrote: »
    While we await the Oyster Shuckers (and that's not easy to say without offending someone) here I am in the Green Room, talking to Hels-Bels Alpenhorn.

    Fortunately I have been stalking, oops, I mean following you on social media for several weeks now so I know many things about you! And the most important question is ... what do you like to eat for breakfast, bacon or pastries? So many good breakfast options come from Denmark!

    Pastries, definitely, though with a nod to my *ahem* eclectic Alpenhom heritage, nothing beats a good gipfeli or a bowl of porridge oats. (With shredded haggis).

    But definitely no sausages; (classic symbols of patriarchal oppression). :frowning: :angry:

    Down with sausages! (Outdoor-Reared Chipolatas and Haggi excepted)

    Aut pax, aut bellum!

  • jedijudyjedijudy Heaven Host
    Tapping on the microphone
    Hello? Is it time for us to go on?

    Representing the US:
    The Matlacha Oyster Shuckers!

    The stage is covered with white sugar sand. Barrels covered with fishing nets are arranged artistically in various places. Tiny twinkly lights decorate the nets, with sea shells and beach umbrellas adding to the ambiance.

    Bikini clad young ladies walk the 'beach', some with dogs on leashes, and one young lady walking a ...goat???

    A scruffy boat appears stage left. Three dirty, stinky fishermen emerge with buckets of oysters and an empty bucket and an old beat up guitar.

    Surprisingly, they start to make noises...um...I mean they start to sing.

    Oh...the...rough and ugly shell of an oyster,
    Is the finest looking thing in the sea...
    It grows in the deep and shallows of the gulf
    And keeps my pockets full of lovely money!


    One of the bikini girls sidles up to the guitar player and sings...

    Hey handsome...
    How about tossing some of those mollusks my way?
    There might hide
    A pearl inside!
    Would you mind shucking the thing? It's icky!


    He shucks the oyster and slurps it down. He spits a tiny pearl into the bucket, then sings...

    Lady, we worked all night to find this shell,
    It's sharp and gloves don't always work.
    When shucking oysters for my friends,
    We laugh and eat and grab the nearest fork.

    Now, if you were a friend,
    You wouldn't hold your nose!
    A hard working man
    Doesn't smell like a rose.

    Oh...the...rough and ugly shell of an oyster,
    Is the finest looking thing in the sea...
    It grows in the deep and shallows of the gulf
    And keeps my pockets full of lovely money!


    And, as can happen on the beach, the rain (machine) starts and the lovely ladies, dogs and goat exit quickly while the Oyster Shuckers bask in their weekly shower.
  • ClimacusClimacus Shipmate
    The Georgian women eye the shucker with some delight. As does one of the Georgian men.

    A port is drunk.
  • MiffyMiffy Shipmate
    Hels glares. :angry:

    The Hygge Men add oysters to their list of Hygge Essentials.
  • Gill HGill H Shipmate
    What a wonderful ... er... song. Thank you USA!

    Now, can someone get some clothes on those shuckers? No, I said shuckers.

    At least the stage is clean again now. If a little damp.

    And with the unique sounds, sights and smells of the previous entry still a lingering memory, it's time to turn our minds to all things Spanish. Perhaps (forced grin) we should ask our fisherman friends to 'cast a net' and bring the Spanish entry to the stage please?
  • But the Spanish entry is in lurrve. Just one senorita and one senor. Gazing into each other's eyes and smiling sweetly.

    The lights dim and the Spanish couple are illuminated in a spotlight)

    Fly me to the moon
    round like a big bowl of paella
    your voice makes me feel protected
    like I don't need an umbrella

    Girl: (I never thought
    I'd meet such a handsome fella)

    is this really happening?
    surely love cannot be wrong?
    have we founded love's new citadel
    or just sung a Eurovision song?

    I feel like I am dancing
    though we are standing with no motion
    enveloped in musical passion
    like art's sweet body lotion

    everything is perfect
    standing here with you
    I only want your song
    lets hope enough other people do too.

    oh oh oh

    (loose translation of Spanish song)

    The music stops, the lights are turned up, but the Spanish couple remain staring into each other's eyes for an uncomfortably long time. There is a long silence and the conductor coughs. The Spanish couple walk off stage to their dressing room, with their arms around each other and are not seen again all evening.



  • LeRocLeRoc Shipmate
    (loose translation of Spanish song)
    I'd give the original text but I can't make 'umbrella' rhyme with 'fella' in Spanish :smile:

  • original lyrics https://eurovisionworld.com/eurovision/2018/spain here
    There is a bit about being protected by love when the weather is bad, I believe, with the word for protect being a similar derivation to the Spanish for "overcoat". Mind you, it is a surprisingly long time since I did O level Spanish, must be at least 10 years.
  • LeRocLeRoc Shipmate
    There is a bit about being protected by love when the weather is bad, I believe, with the word for protect being a similar derivation to the Spanish for "overcoat".
    This is true. The verb is abrigar (to shelter), abrigo can mean overcoat.

  • balaambalaam Shipmate
    "Did something just happen? The Belarus contingent return to their seats with the goat they have rescues from the USA team, having successfully spiked the Port of the other contingents with Vodka on their way.
  • jedijudyjedijudy Heaven Host
    There’s a commotion in the back hallway...
    No, lady, it’s Mat-la-SHAY! Not Mat-latch-a. Durn Yankees.
  • HugalHugal Shipmate
    edited May 2018
    The French party are In the police station.
    Leader: yes very sorry officer they won’t do it again. You can take off their handcuffs now
  • MiffyMiffy Shipmate
    The Denmark contingent shudders at the picture Conjured up by this last. :neutral:
  • Gill HGill H Shipmate
    Ladies, gentlemen and goats, wasn't that a wonderful contest? I'm sure we all enjoyed the visual, aural and indeed olfactory feast that took place.

    And now comes the most important part - the voting!

    As usual the process will be rigorously scrutinised by the Ship's Cook, John O'Sandwich. Any attempt to vote for your favourite country just so they bung you some votes will be met with rigid disapproval, often for the 20th time running.

    The rules are straightforward. For reasons no-one has ever been able to explain, you can award points as follows:

    8 points to your third favourite entry
    10 points to your second favourite
    12 points to the entry you want to win

    Now, while I go backstage and see if the interval act is ready, please go back to the beginning of the thread and scroll through very quickly, so you have a montage of the whole contest and a reminder of each song.

    After the interval act, you will be able to tell us your votes.

    So - are you ready? Here .... we ... go! (Wild cheering from the audience)

  • MiffyMiffy Shipmate
    Interval act? Ooh! :smiley: Is this when we see the Dancing Haggi?
  • HugalHugal Shipmate
    I love a good interval. 20 mins in the bar, nice cold lager, packet of over priced crisps (chips).
    Oh interval act. Can I still have a lager
  • MiffyMiffy Shipmate
    Has the interval happened already? Or are we more John Cage than Riverdance? Hel’s Hyggemen plus Danish jury were last seen snoring in the green room.
  • ClimacusClimacus Shipmate
    Better than snorting...

    No names.
  • HugalHugal Shipmate
    The interval act has just reported that they are behind. Behind a very slow lorry/truck. They should be here soon.
    Meanwhile....
  • Gill HGill H Shipmate
    Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the massed choirs of the Ship of Fools in a celebration of unity entitled "We've Got Our Ship Together!"

    First, onto the stage come the ranks of Heaven. Waving placards featuring their favourite books, films, food and theological controversy, they perform a jaunty hornpipe and release hordes of fluffy bunnies into the audience.

    They are followed by the frequenters of Purgatory. Each of them carries an enormous scroll of paper containing the latest thread they are studying in detail. Unfortunately the scroll keeps unrolling back to the beginning every time they write on it. Their song is rather disjointed as so many people are trying to join in at once.

    The denizens of Hell come next, jumping through huge flames of fire with a distinct aroma of brimstone. They burst into an angry, angsty heavy rock number which details all the things they hate, and how much better things would be if everyone just listened to them. Unfortunately the music is so loud no-one can hear what they are singing. Eventually they resort to pelting the audience with raisin cakes.

    There's a brief moment of silence before we hear the sounds of rum barrels opening, and the All Saints crew arrive. Singing a rather meandering sea-shanty, they pass out tots of rum to the appreciative audience.

    The next group to arrive should be Ecclesiantics, but after an awkward pause, someone runs on with a note to say that they have been prevented from attending since the Ship's Gin Lounge announced it was happy hour. But not happy-clappy hour, obviously.

    Instead, the team from Kerygmania are hastily ushered towards the stage, but they object to going on until they can establish what their song lyrics would be in the original Greek, and whether their original audience would have understood them in the same way. They bump into the 8th Day crowd, who are busy inventing a much better Song Contest to do next year.

    The mood mellows and the screens flash up some images of great threads of the past and Shipmates who can't attend this contest, in a montage from Oblivion, Limbo and Glory.

    The gentle nostalgia is broken by the arrival of several hundred not-quite-as-dead-as-we-thought horses, who begin to harrass the crowd and the performers, and refuse to go away.

    They are finally corralled back into their enclosure by the Hosts and Admins, and to finish the act we have a lively outburst of merriment and mayhem from the Circus folk. It's hard to describe their act - the wordplay and quizzes are slightly baffling to an international audience, but the mental gymnastics are both extremely gymnastic, and also slightly mental.

    The number finishes with all the performers returning to the stage and singing:

    "We've got our Ship together
    We'll sail through any weather
    If you don't like our blether
    You're free to walk the plank

    We've got our Ship together
    Wherever we may tether
    In lands above or nether
    We'll talk a load of ..."

    (Unfortunately the end of the song is obscured by a sudden power cut, and instead finishes with Angela rushing to the stage.)

    Ladies and gentlemen, please give a big hand for the massed choirs of the Ship of Fools!

    And now I think we are ready to move on. Please could the first country give us the result of their voting?

  • ClimacusClimacus Shipmate
    * Applause *

    And extra points for making the Georgian contingent look up 'blether', 'blather' being more popular for some reason in the Caucasus.


    And we cross to Tbilisi…no idea why we go first!?!

    A man in a moustache that seems to have spread of its own accord, and a bright pink suit, comes into view.

    Hello from Tbilisi. The ancient and current capital of Georgia. The town has turned on every streetlight tonight -- bugger the power bill! -- to shine a light on the world. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you for such a wonderful show... You showed us the sparkling creativity of the community that is Europe and we were in awe at the performances tonight. And Angela, beautiful Angela, you were the true star of tonight's performance...a star that has fell from heaven...

    (this continues for some time, until Angela interjects, demanding the actual scores...)


    8 ladies dancing...a ha ha ha ha ha...no, just my little joke. 8 points go to Belarus.

    10 points to, oo la la!, la France!

    And, our twelve points, et nos douze points, go to, the wonderful, the amazing, the stupendous, the marvellous, the creative, the red and the white ... ["Ahem", says Angela] … Denmark!


  • ClimacusClimacus Shipmate
    Meanwhile at home, the audience who liked Spain and the USA mutter in anger as the jury has once again stolen their votes. They also wonder if MagtiCom LTD, a telecom provider and the official Eurovision partner, has lost their SMSes.
  • HugalHugal Shipmate
    France (translated)
    Good evening Paris calling.
    What a wonderful show. We look forward to hosting next year. Er...I mean here are the votes from France.
    8 points to USA
    10 points to Belarus
    And
    12 points to Denmark

    Thanks see you all I Paris next year... er
    Goodbye
  • MiffyMiffy Shipmate
    Danish jury appear on screen. They seem rather distracted, which is understandable as they’re on a train heading Londonwards. And surrounded by hunky men dressed as bananas, pineapples and strawberries. Yes, we forgot that our route goes through Twickenham. :neutral:

    So...Ladies and Gentlemen,(ouch! Watch where you’re putting those salad tongs). Here we are with the ....(Shut up, will you) results from the Dainish Jury:

    Belarus- 8 points

    USA- 10 points

    and...cue roll of drums, (well, not drums exactly, given my travelling companions, but this is a family show) :smiley:

    Georgia- 12 points, douze points!

    Phew!
  • MiffyMiffy Shipmate
    As train grinds to a halt in the middle of nowhere...the atmosphere in the carriage ahead is obviously getting a little ehrm ‘fruity,’ as some clever dick pulls the communication cord. Yes really.

    Hels Bels would have sorted them out quickest.
  • MiffyMiffy Shipmate
    And as a right pic n mix spills out onto the platform at Twickenham, the Danish jury catch sight of a tantalising glimpse of lederhosen. Who can it be? Yes- it is!!! *

    Helmuth winks to the audience as he heads off to the stadium.

    * It was actually a glimpse of a sporran, but you must allow me a smidgen of poetic licence!
  • jedijudyjedijudy Heaven Host
    A seagull flies into the auditorium. Look! There's a note attached to its leg!

    It appears the Oyster Shuckers are on their way home in their little fishing boat. Hopefully they have enough fuel to cross the Atlantic.

    The note says:
    "Thanks y'all for a rip roarin' time! Even though we were pushed to your side of the globe by some Alberto blow-up, it turned out to be a real hoot! And we loved the goin' away cookout with the rabbits and dessert that just fell out of the sky. We ain't as used to highfalutin drinks like rum and GIN (why do ya'll capitalize all them letters on the jugs?) but it were mighty tasty!

    We figured we should get on home, but wanted to voice our opinions, vote-wise.

    Eight points for France. Since they asked so nicely. Over and over and over again. Mama said politeness is important.

    Ten points for Denmark...but only if we can borrow that purty boat of theirs!!

    Twelve points for our neighbors to the north...Georgia! Although, their accent t'wern't quite like normal. And they were kinda prissy with their grape-stompin'. Should-a just brewed some beer. Or good ole moonshine. But, we Southerners need to stick together, so give 'em 12 pointaroonies!

    Anyhow, ya'll be safe, and if you get to our side of the ocean, be sure to look us up!

    Froggie, Cooter and Harley...The Matlacha Oyster Shuckers!"

    The seagull relieves itself (of course) and flies into the sunset.
  • MiffyMiffy Shipmate
    We will, Oyster Shuckers!

    Don’t suppose you could reroute your seagull via outer London could you? To sort out that so and so who pulled ghe emergency cord. Ta. :smiley:

    Just the Belarus and Spanish scoring to go then... I guess we’re not throwing the voting open to all the Shipmates? Don’t think I could cope with the excitement!
  • balaambalaam Shipmate
    <sound of snoring>
    Yawn
    <Fart>

    <A small man in an ill fitting suit awakes, his hair a mess from being asleep for the whole contest, the camera pans back to reveal goat poo on the floor>

    Are we voting yet?

    The voted from the Belarus jury are as follows:

    <looks around for a piece of paper, the bottom corner has been chewed >

    8 points go tho the USA

    10 points to Denmark

    12 points go to <a look of horror as he realises the goat has eaten the result> erm ... erm ...to ... er ... to Georgia for being our neighbour. <Looks off camera, whisper >Is that right???

    <Dashes off before the picture fades, pursued by a goat>
  • Gill HGill H Shipmate
    Thank you so much Belarus!

    And so now we need to hear from Spain.

    Hello, Spain, can I have your votes please?

    (Frantic whispering off stage)

    No, I don't know what happens when you mix jet lag with a siesta. Is that a cocktail?

    Oh dear. Would someone wake them up please?
  • MiffyMiffy Shipmate
    Helmuth left his alpenhorn behind. You’re welcome to borrow it.
  • The Spanish announcer appears, a lady of a certain age wearing a plunging, sparkly gown. "Hello London, " she says. "Hello Paris, Hello Copenhagen, Hello... Washington?"

    She would like to vote for Portugal, but there seems to be a technical problem with this She has 8 points for US, for coming all this way, nice to see them. There are 10 points for the Vikings. For being Vikings. "And now, douze points, 12 points, the maximum score, we give to...."

    At this moment a horde of people wearing yellow storm the studio yelling "!Llibertat presos politics!" (freedom for political prisoners!). Some protestors are organised into a small and rather good brass band and others are singing own songs of Catalonian independence and protest. Someone has brought trays of pastries.

    They drape yellow ribbons round the studio, offer a yellow scarf to the presenter and hang one of their red and yellow flags over the camera lens. Everything goes fuzzy on the screen.

    It is now nearly a month since anyone has seen the Spanish entrants.
  • MiffyMiffy Shipmate
    The Spanish announcer appears, a lady of a certain age wearing a plunging, sparkly gown. "Hello London, " she says. "Hello Paris, Hello Copenhagen, Hello... Washington?"

    She would like to vote for Portugal, but there seems to be a technical problem with this She has 8 points for US, for coming all this way, nice to see them. There are 10 points for the Vikings. For being Vikings. "And now, douze points, 12 points, the maximum score, we give to...."

    At this moment a horde of people wearing yellow storm the studio yelling "!Llibertat presos politics!" (freedom for political prisoners!). Some protestors are organised into a small and rather good brass band and others are singing own songs of Catalonian independence and protest. Someone has brought trays of pastries.

    They drape yellow ribbons round the studio, offer a yellow scarf to the presenter and hang one of their red and yellow flags over the camera lens. Everything goes fuzzy on the screen.

    It is now nearly a month since anyone has seen the Spanish entrants.

    ‘Heard,’ of course, is quite another matter! :wink:

  • HugalHugal Shipmate
    Oh no who got Spain’s 12 points.
  • MiffyMiffy Shipmate
    Have they left any clues?
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