A NIGHT TO REMEMBER IN TURIN

 

Most people have their revered traditions and customs, not all of which sit easily in the modern world. The Africans rated FGM, the Indians the practice of suttee and the Japanese revelled in hari kiri.. Brits once practised the Ducking of Witches, no longer thought efficacious, but even at the State Opening of Parliament last week Prince Charles evoked Guy Fawkes and despatched 6 wheezy Yeomen of the Guard in full fig (usually retired warrant officers from the Forces) to inspect the cellars for gunpowder. With Putin and ISIS still at large, this may be thought merely a prudent precaution, and happily they found nothing.

The revered tradition we faithfully observe is watching the Eurovision Song Contest. My wife and I have done so annually since the 1970s. Clipboards list the countries, an ever-growing horde, and the title of their musical offering, if you can penetrate Icelandic or Breton. A bottle or two of wine are at hand to assist slumber or anaesthetise the tonsils and off we go to wonder, laugh and be scandalised by the antics of the unbuttoned Eurovision audience. It is old-fashioned family fun.

                        

                                                           The UK entrant Sam Ryder

This year the omens were not very favourable. The ferocious Russian attack on Ukraine darkened the mood, which was nervous but full of support and admiration for the Ukrainians. The UK’s recent history at the contest was dismal – low placings for 20 years and in 2021 the dreaded nul pointes. The glory days of yesteryear when Sandi Shaw or Brotherhood of Man could wow the audience were but distant memories and even Ireland, who could once boast of Johnny Logan and Dana, failed to survive the semis. Sadly gone too was the late Sir Terry Wogan, whose light good-humour brightened many a contest with his jokey commentary. Mind you Graham Norton is an amusing guide too.

Anyhow, on Tuesday we kicked off with the first semi – final, with many vacuous songs, mainly dismal ballads sending my dear wife comatose. Thursday saw the shock (to me) exits of Israel, Cyprus and Malta and the survival of a bizarre Serb effort centred on hand-washing (sic!). The Grand Final was on Saturday in Turin before a noisy, but not riotous, crowd heavy with proud gays, hideous tattoos, spaced-out weirdies, in other words typically European hipsters.. In the meanwhile the airwaves had been awash with the entries from the Big Five, UK, France, Germany, Spain and Italy. We had come to realise that the UK entry Spaceman was rather good and the singer Sam Ryder, while in need of a haircut to my elderly mind, was an excellent representative in this peculiar milieu. There was nothing to fear from the French whose dismal Breton effort would even bore the pants off Macron. The German entry was worse. There was however one entry, that of Chanel representing Spain, which was a threat to all the others.

 

Her number SioMo, her dancing, her nubile buttocks, and a crotch to die for, would make the nuns of Zaragossa reach for their smelling salts. My loyalty to Sam Ryder wobbled as the blood in my veins bubbled, but the mad moment passed. Phew, that was close!

Chanel of Spain adds excitement

At long last, the 25 surviving songs were performed. The 40 national juries eventually pronounced their verdict and to our delight and astonishment the UK leapt into the lead, with generous 12 points from Austria, France (Yes, France!) and many others. Some deserved success went to Belgium, Greece, Moldova, Sweden and Poland. There was a final obstacle to surmount – the verdict of the voting public. This was certain to be more political than musical and sure enough the powerful sympathy vote for Ukraine gave them an overwhelming victory with the UK in a very honourable second place.

                    

                                     The Kalush Orchestra representing Ukraine

I think everyone was happy. The Ukrainians received a well-deserved boost. The UK was no longer a pariah at Eurovision – all that is needed is a good song and a good performer. We are all brothers again and I warm a little towards Europe. Thank you, Eurovision!

SMD

16.5.22 

Text copyright © Sidney Donald 2022

BLOWING OUR OWN TRUMPET

I am sure I am not alone in being fed up of the negative historical narrative being spread assiduously by the woke and Lefty UK political bloc about the values and achievements of famous figures in Britain’s rather splendid past. I am talking about the snide media, like the BBC, Channel 4, the Guardian, New Statesman, many thousand “clever” Dicks in academia and the Arts, countless morons on social media and large swathes of those in local government and the “caring professions” who love biting the hands that feed them. They peddle all manner of distorted tosh to fortify their view of Britain as racist, reactionary and in terminal decline. That view is ignorant, insulting and wholly untrue.

We Brits, like any self-respecting nation, are proud of our history and treasure our heroes. We do not suppose our heroes were without human fault – that would be absurd – but their achievements hugely outweigh their faults. Yet, a North London Gladstone Park is reported to be renamed Diane Abbott Park after the faithful stooge of Jeremy Corbyn, the Labour Party leader whose greatest pleasure was taking cycling holidays in Walter Ulbricht’s repressively foul East Germany. Dynamic W E Gladstone was Prime Minister 4 times in Victorian Britain; he revolutionised the production of national budgets, widened the franchise, introduced key reforms to the civil service, to liquor licensing, modernised the armed forces and tried to overhaul the government of Ireland and help its landless poor. His father, a Liverpool merchant, allegedly made money out of the slave trade, enough for todays Lefties to scream denunciations and cancel his very name. Compared to Gladstone, Diane Abbott has achieved zero, famed only for issuing a fetid stream of mendacious Agitprop from Hackney Council  

            Mr W E Gladstone                                Ms Diane Abbott

Our military heroes, Sir Francis Drake, Marlborough, Clive of India, General Wolfe of Quebec, Admiral Nelson, The Duke of Wellington, Douglas Haig, Dowding, Alanbrooke, to mention only the most prominent, stand comparison with warriors of any other nation. Our cultural heroes are giants of literature such as Shakespeare, Milton, Johnson, Wordsworth, Coleridge, Byron, Keats, Shelley, Austen, Dickens, George Eliot, Orwell for adults, or Tolkien, C S Lewis or JK Rowling for children. Our historians, our philosophers, our technologists and our scientists have led the world in many spheres. The point of these catalogues is to underline British excellence and remind the world that Latin America, The Middle East, Asia and Africa are at best in the second rank. Step forward and cheer the names of the world-class contributors from Brazil, Syria, Jamaica, Congo, Somalia, Vietnam or Pakistan. Yes, the silence is deafening! We hope others can improve their performances but at this moment the developed Anglophone world, (including of course the US), the French and a handful of other European nations are light-years ahead of the large, mediocre, straggling pack.

Britain is a highly civilised country and the battle for tolerance of, and the bestowal of legal rights upon, immigrants into this country has long been won. It is a given. Yet there are obligations on the incoming. They must integrate into British society and adopt British customs. Quickly they must forget about honour killings and vendettas, cease ghastly practices like female genital mutilation (FGM), drop demeaning yashmaks and burkas, ignore the agitation of some for a jihad or some other convulsion, stop corrupting local elections and creating criminal rings to abuse vulnerable girls. Such practices are “simply not done” in Britain and are widely deplored.

We rejoice at the achievements of many first- and second- generation immigrants, not least in the Conservative Party. We are thinking of Dominic Raab or Rishi Sunak (both potential prime Ministers), Priti Patel, possessor of the Ugandan Asian work ethic whose family well knows the virulence of black oppression, James Cleverly, Kwasi Kwarteng, Sajid Javid, Nadhim Zalawi, Alok Sharma, Suella Braverman, all of whom have reached senior rank. Even notoriously anti-Semitic Labour embrace Sadiq Khan, David Lammy and Anas Sarwar to add lustre to their ranks. Other talented non-whites have flourished here - Trevor Phillips, Clive Myrie and Reeta Chakrabarti come to mind, including a horde of sportsmen and women. Britain is demonstrably a tolerant and meritocratic society.

 

                                    Rishi Sunak, Tory Pin-up                Sadiq Khan, Labour Pin-up  
          

Of course, Black Lives Matter and similar activist groups complain that not enough is done for them. We are urged to be “inclusive”. Well, we are already plenty inclusive, see above, and many resent the over-representation of the non-white community in every TV advertisement or popular show. Britain is 87% white, 4% black, 7% Asian and 2% others. That is the delicate reality and distortions of that reality are patronising, intrusive and annoying. Leave us to live together in peace in our great country.

 

SMD

4.5.22

Text Copyright © Sidney Donald 2022