Drop everything: we’re in Eurovision!

This is the kind of thing we're up against.
This is the kind of thing we’re up against.

When considering the pros and cons of living in Australia, about the only negative that has ever sprung to mind is that, because of where our girt-by-sea land sits on the world map, we could never be in Eurovision.

We could look at the smorgasbord of cheese on offer each year — the Irish Guinness cheddar, Italy’s drippy mozzarella, the salty Moldovan brynza — but getting stuck into the fondue was never a possibility.

Last year, when special guest Jessica Mauboy warbled her way through Sea of Flags, an offering so perfectly saccharin it made us proud, we thought we’d climbed our Eurovision mountain.

And now comes the news, almost too exciting for guaranteed bladder control, that Australia is to compete in this hallowed contest. Just the once, to mark the songfest’s 60th anniversary and reward us for our undying love of all things Euro-chintz.

Unless we win, in which case we get a nod for next year as well, though not as the host, which is a bit of a rip-off.

But anyway, let’s win this sucker and stay on the drip feed. Or at the very least, beat England. Which shouldn’t be hard.

We stop at nothing. Image by startrekkin58
We stop at nothing.
Image by startrekkin58

Here’s my plan.

First, someone has to lock Olivia Newton John in a broom cupboard for the next three months. She can’t be allowed anywhere near this thing. There’s too much at stake.

Serial trillers like Samantha Jade and Delta Goodrem also need not apply. And you, Tina Arena, don’t even think about it.

What we need is Hugh Jackman in tight shiny tight pants. Tight tight. Falsetto tight. I really can’t stress enough the importance of the tight. Seriously, if he can breathe for the few minutes he’s on stage, his duds are too loose.

Or he can wear a towel. I don’t mind.

Hugh can sing Love Is In The Air. To Dame Edna Everage. As she flings gladioli into the audience. There won’t be a dry eye in the house.

Kylie and Jason can have a cameo somewhere. As long as Kylie grows a beard. Let’s see if Guy Pearce is available to reprise Priscilla, Queen of the Desert in a multi-coloured thong dress.

One reader reckons this guy should get a nod. His strong message about independence could pull the Ukraine vote. And if he shirtfronted the Russian entrant, we’d have a lock on the competition.

There’s also a petition to reform Aussie rock band TISM for a triumphant Eurovision outing. It’s got 8,000 votes in less than 24 hours.

So the act is coming together nicely.

Next, we need a great production team. Let’s get Baz Luhrmann on the case. And Ignatius Jones. No one does stage bling extravaganzas like those two.

Catherine Martin can do the costumes. It’s time she put those four Oscars to good use. And let’s speak to the guys who do Sydney’s new year’s eve fireworks. We stop at nothing.

We can do cheese as well as anyone.
We can do cheese as well as anyone.

Finally, we need to rig the votes.

We’re not allowed to vote for ourselves. And these Europeans often vote in blocs. Usually at the expense of England, so it’s not all bad.

Anyway, being the new kid on the block, we need to be a bit inventive in our vote garnering.

So start sucking up to every European you know. Bribe them, blackmail them, sweet talk them, assume their identity, give them sleeping pills and vote on their behalf, just do what it takes to get their vote.

So there’s my plan. I reckon it’s pretty much foolproof. But all good plans can be improved, so let me know your ideas for an unbeatable Aussie entry.

Because Australia, in the immortal words of Billy Joel, Vienna waits for you.

3 Comments Add yours

  1. Michael says:

    There’s not much to it. Just unleash Kylie. Win the contest. Keep her stored until next year. Win again. Repeat until you’ve had it.


    1. kazblah says:

      She’s tailor made for it, isn’t she?


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