Last year I was accused of being 'rude' and 'unfair' in my comments about that silly little singing competition where lots of EuroVision member countries compete to sing their hearts out.
This year this 'rude' and 'unfair' blogger went to extraordinary lengths to watch the long, long, ever so boring semi-finals and then forgo a documentary on political Britain in the late 50's / early 60's for the mind numbing 195 minute all screaming, hyper camp and ever so tedious final.
I went through this televisual hell because I wanted to understand what all the fuss, bitching and excitement was all about in 2008.
My distinct memories of this contest were in the 1960's when my family and I all sat down to wonder at the flickering pictures beamed onto our 405 line television from some exotic part of continental Europe. We'd then wander in certain amazement at the cultural offerings from these Europeans. In those days it all seemed so fair and honest somehow. But I guess as a boy growing up in middle class England most things seemed unquestionable and 'fair' somehow - you never really questioned, you trusted and you accepted. That was my adolescent life somehow.
The EuroVision Song Contest of modern day Europe seems as related to it's original concept as I am related to you or your neighbour.
The voting may seem bizarre to any normal level-headed human being but if your neighbour is competing and you (for the sake of argument) rely on him for oil or gas, or if you want to keep him sweet for whatever reason, you are bound to vote for him - it's human nature. As for the song - who cares?
In fact why not save valuable airtime, creativity and empty hopes and simply ditch the songs altogether and replace the current concept with a glorified back-slapping contest.
Simply vote for your favourite EuroVision member country - then sit down for three hours on a Saturday evening and watch a highly incestuous feast of why these nations are so popular and adored by their neighbours. Then during the last hour we'll go to all the presentation and continuity studios across Europe to hear the votes from the individual countries - ensuring of course that each presentation announcer gives a firm pat on the back to host country for "such a marvelous show - the best show in the history of EuroVision".
Yes! Yet another brilliant television concept from Ian Waugh!
Meanwhile - the future of the UK in the contest is now seriously in question - I wonder if I'll be blogging on this next year at this time?
Vote now and don't forget your calls could cost you your credibility - terms and conditions kind of apply.
With the EuroVision 2008 final only hours away - a continent waits with breathe bated. Indeed as I sit here at my desk banging out these words I can feel the tension from within the United Kingdom and across the channel. Not for generations have the people of Europe felt such a feeling of anticipation. My goodness the tension is as unbearable as passing a kidney stone.
If only this were true! Because it clearly isn't!
This year I wanted to get an overall perspective of this creative multi-cultural feast. So I actually dedicated real time to viewing the semi-finals. Two hours each evening viewing the over zealous, the outright rubbish, the camp, the genuine talent and the darn-right stupid all blended into this screamingly silly waste of broadcasting air-time.
I had my fiver placed firmly on Malta's entry - Vodka. An excellent, well-written, well-produced and superbly performed song swept away as an instant memory. When I see crap like the Latvian attempt - "Pirates of the Sea" given preference to real talent then I know for sure I haven't lost my marbles alltogether! It reinforces my overall opinion that this Song Contest is a complete and utter waste of time.
So what is The EuroVision Song Contest these days? Is it a means of displaying genuine talent? Is it a method of bringing EuroVision member countries closer together? Maybe a way of projecting national and European identity? Is it some sort of pan European joke? Or is it a vehicle for member nations to point fun and ridicule other nations?
It's a gross embarrassment for genuine entrants like the Maltese. It causes serious damage to the overall national image of countries who aren't talently recognised and especially for this small and well-meaning nation.
Taking Malta's position with the contest - it has nothing to do with the local selection board, it's members or the talent that competes locally to represent the Republic. It's no good pointing fingers locally. It's no good bitching endlessly in the vain hope of gaining certain personal local kudos. Because of the nature of the contest there are decisions taken outside Malta that are beyond Maltese control.
The fact of the matter is that the overall EuroVision Song Contest has turned into a total confusing fiasco where the genuine talent avoid it like the plague for fear of professional tarnish.
If your national pride is at stake. If your country's credibility is on show. If you respect your cultural identity. With the best will in the world and the most fantastic talent - my advice is to walk quietly and respectfully away from this gory and currently exceedingly embarrassing contest.
You should avoid this public relations fiasco until such time as the organisers of the semis and finals have stopped taking the piss out of well meaning and intelligent countries who respect their national pride and identity more than being associated with a cheap, tacky and rather nasty (and long-term damaging) talent contest.
In the mean time the final is tonight. I wish my home country well whilst I commiserate with certain nations who must be asking themselves: "Why?"
Its that time of year again, whilst Spring has sprung, the birds are singing in the garden, the FA Cup has been and gone - Summer is tantalising us on the horizon - oh! what joys this time of year brings!
Except, around the corner, looming like a big unpredictable camp and slightly silly monster is the image of EuroVision 2008!
Last year I moaned about the lack of appearance by the brilliant Maltese entry. Strangely (maybe it's something to do with the air, maybe too much sun ... who knows) the normally peaceful and intelligent Maltese take EuroVision very, very seriously indeed. Websites and blogs are full to bursting with moans and counter-moans about how this is all handled locally - the bitching, back biting and insults abound like nothing else, from the selection to the actual board who run Malta's representation at this contest. In fact the whinging is almost as entertaining as the big night itself with more Maltese 'EuroVision Experts' than you can wave a stick at
Chill-out you guys .... please!
Personally as a mere punter I think Malta stands a very good chance and wish them all the very best. You can go their Official Malta EuroVision website here.
This year the Republic of Malta's entry is fantastically feisty, strong, very Mediterranean and high representative of today's Malta. Still not convinced? Still think tiny little Malta has no hope? Well, dear reader, here is the mouse that's going to roar at EuroVision 2008 from Morena with 'Vodka'. Incidentally very big congratulations to the crew and producers of this really brilliant video:
Meanwhile it looks the UK learnt a few lessons from last year's fiasco. "BBC One viewers have picked Andy Abraham and 'Even If' to represent the UK in the 2008 Eurovision Song Contest in Serbia" (so says the BBC):
Just in case you thought EuroVision 2008 has taken on an air of partial sophistication don't count your chickens ... here, for all you happy sailors, is the Latvian attempt - called "Pirates of the Sea":
Well at least you can smile about it ... for those obssessing - why not stop taking it so seriously for all our sakes!
As for me - I'll order up my annual supply of tranquillisers, pain killers and Gin - who knows what feast of glitz, naffness and complete rubbish we are going to be inflicted with this year!
I am a boring, dull, typical 50 something who has an equally dull, boring routine. In fact I pride myself in such dullness - there's a lot to said for routine. If being dull and boring is the label generally attached to old farts like me - then fair enough! Who am I to argue?
Part of my alleged boring routine is getting up during the week at 5.30am and, after diving (ok, crawling) into the shower I head for the kitchen in time for my 4 Weetabix and only coffee of the day all thoroughly releshed with BBC Radio 4 (the middle-Britain, middle-age, no nonsense, occasionally humorous and constantly informative talks radio station).
By the time I have staggered into the kitchen it's normally about quarter to six and therefore in plenty of time to listen to Farming Today - that bastion of agri/horti cultural information just before the first slice of doom, gloom and reality - the 6.00 news and the Today Programme.
So, early on Thursday (or was it Friday?) morning this week my calm routine was shattered by the breaking agri/horti cultural news that a guy called Gordon Ramsey who became a 'celebrity' by using the "f" word in nearly every sentence he has uttered on British television has proclaimed that there should be a law passed whereby us ordinary folk should only be allowed to purchase fruit and vegtables when they are in season in the UK.
This somewhat "fascist type" statement came as something of a shock to little me as I was chomping away at my Weetabix. On hearing this for the first time I have to say that my mumblings just before the 6.00am news were not dissimilar to the language used by Mr. Ramsey when he broadcasts to the nation.
Then, I thought, maybe this guy has lost his marbles and the men in white coats were, as I was swearing like a trooper at my beloved kitchen radio, carrying this poor, somewhat demented soul away from public life forever.
If this bloke does manage to get a law passed whereby I could be locked up for eating strawberries in November - does this mean the end of democracy as we know it?
Perhaps it could mark the re-emergence of the spiv - that wartime / post war Arthur Daley type who you meet down the boozer who has managed to slip in a few boxes of out of season lettuces or a crate of ever so dodgy raspberries.
Maybe we'll start reading stories like 82 year old Doris Smith from Chiswick who has been banged up by the the Veg Cops for knowingly purchasing out of season carrots, boiling them and serving them to her young great-grandchildren. I can see the news headline and copy now: "PENSIONER DORIS AND THE CARROT SCANDAL" "Mrs Smith, widowed, living on a pension, is now serving a three year sentence at Holloway, is said to be 'extremely sorry' for breaking 'Ramsey's Veg Law'. Her great-grandchildren are now in care under supervision."
Give me strength!
Ok, I agree, wherever you live in the world, it's important to support local farmers and buy as much local produce as possible. I agree about the environmental issues of flying potatoes from Brazil to England (or wherever) and we should all keep an eye out. But if this guy thinks he can dictate to us through legislation, for heavens sake, and start controlling our consumerism as such - then he's got another thing coming.
For a bloke who can stop swearing on national television albeit after the watershed, who's allegedly such a wondrous chef, who clearly thinks he's on some great mission - I suggest he should get off his high horse and get real.
Much as all publicity is essential fuel for these alleged 'celebrities' - I have a feeling this fuel will, with any luck, backfire and blow-up in his face.
I had a most strange, although not all together surprising, experience in the middle of April when I was having a look around at some of the Maltese radio station websites.
I also viewed, much to my dismay and great disappointment, a studio webcam which the operator of this particular station has available to the world online.
Having a webcam transmitting your business activity of course represents the company, the business and whatever the aforementioned supports.
To add more horror to this public relations disaster - I can now reveal exclusively on this blog that I wasn't the only person in the UK, in the broadcasting industry and around the world watching this car crash of gross employee mistrust! Indeed this display was the topic of conversation for quite sometime in certain quarters here in England!
I have been asked which station was responsible for the images I watched - but being the consummate professional I am, I have refrained from divulging the stations' identity - suffice to say that I have a very strong feeling the following was read in The Times of Malta - and the next time we viewed the webcam the behaviour of the presenter I referred to was a great deal different.
Oh! The power of the press!
The Times of Malta - mid April 2008:
The Public Face in Public Life
In broadcasting we know only too well that image is everything. Indeed even when your ship is sinking it is vital above all to maintain an air of calm and professionalism.
While things around you are, to say the least, falling apart, it is crucial that despite the fact you are paddling like mad everything on the surface as far as the listener or viewer is concerned is 100% honky-dory. This is the art of the professional and seasoned broadcaster.
Like all media folk I have a curiosity that knows no bounds. It’s very easy in this business to know what your fellow broadcasters are up to because by the nature of the business it is of course in the public domain.
There is a well known industry adage that you are only as good as your last performance.
In the intensive, commercially competitive, over-crowded broadcast market in Malta doing ‘memorable’ programming is crucial. Stations live, breathe and die a painful death by their audience reach. Low reach – low commercial confidence – low revenue and then it’s “goodnight and goodbye from us”! It’s not an unfamiliar scenario.
My curiosity got the better of me the other day as I was trolling the endless radio and television websites. I was dipping in and out of streamed output, listening to and watching styles, links and overall presentation. A few of these websites have ‘live studio webcams’ where you can actually watch the show being produced and presented.
Then my curiosity turned to dismay. I had already listened to the audio of this particular station and I knew instinctively that the guy broadcasting into people’s homes, in their cars and online cared as much about his job as a broadcaster as I care about flying to the moon.
So, when I clicked onto the station ‘webcam’ I was mortified to see the ‘presenter’ (a public servant) with both feet up on the control desk, with dust and dirt from his shoes falling into the delicate and expensive equipment, with the microphone angle poise stretched as far forward as possible, the guy slouched back in his chair chewing gum whilst presenting his programme.
I viewed this shocking disregard for professionalism for about 20 whole minutes. As the online world watched, I actually felt sorry for the owners and shareholders of this station who were clearly oblivious of this embarrassing PR abuse.
Broadcasting is a profession not to be taken lightly. We are all pubic servants licensed to transmit into people’s homes. When you go into a shop, we expect a modicum of politeness from the person serving us – you don’t expect a sales assistant to have his (or her) feet up on the counter, mumbling and chewing gum without a care in the world. Despite the flood of deregulation over the years there is still the unspoken trust – a special bond – between broadcaster and audience. If you loose the special relationship you are finished – the selective consumer simply moves on.
We have always put broadcast training and development at the top of our development agenda. Training budgets are always built in to our business models and we have always maintained that despite the costs involved that training is an investment for the future.
Image is absolutely everything - it is premium.
So my tip is – if you know there is a webcam installed in your studio at least pretend you care about the programme you are inflicting on the consumer because you never know who is watching you!
Having just revitalised and spruced up my somewhat neglected blog I start with a few words I sent to a newspaper in Malta, where, much to annoyance of certain people and the delight of others I am currently celebrating (or rather reflecting) on my 20th anniversary of first being professionally associated with those wonderful islands.
This was published in today's Independent in Malta:
I always look forward to reading Charles Flores’ contribution on the Opinion pages of The Malta Independent on Sunday and (this) week was no exception. His piece: “A Moment in Time: The King and I” was, as usual, fascinating and frank reading.
Charles was referring to being in the wrong place at the wrong time – being immortalised in a split second then being consigned to history in a shutters flick of a photographer’s camera.
I maintain that my biggest personal regret was being politically misunderstood. The political culture in Britain is in some ways on another planet in comparison to Malta. In Britain I get the feeling that the electorate care as much about politics as the brand of toothpaste they use. We normally don’t think twice about it – we use a brand probably because we always have and there are far more important things in life like West Ham one day winning the FA Cup.
If you ask someone which way they vote in Britain (because there is a very high probability you wouldn’t know), they might tell you to mind your own business, they could say they don’t care because “all politicians are the same” or they might just say they “don’t care”. One or two might reveal their little political secret.
To be absolutely honest, I never knew which way my family voted. My parent’s politics were a secret and the only way I might surmise which way my grandfather voted was by the fact that he used to read The Daily Express! But he never really seemed a Macmillan supporter somehow! As for my grandmother, she was more interested in the volume of greens her only grandson could consume! “Eat your greens, Ian, or you’ll never grow big and strong!” doesn’t have the same political ring as “Your grandfather and I went on a CND rally last weekend and had tea with Harold Wilson”!
Despite the vast millions spent persuading Joe Blogs to vote one way or the other, the general view of UK politicians is probably down there with estate agents who seem to get an equal poor career rating.
In Malta politics is a national obsession. Worryingly, it seems that everyone knows everyone else’s political leanings. Is it true you might possibly admire someone more because you know that person might lean your way, so to speak?
I’m proud to say I’ve been professionally and personally connected to Malta for exactly 20 years this month. It was in May 1988 when I was engaged as an adviser for Xandir Malta. I have to say that many of the people I met (including Charles Flores) made an incredible impression on me. Looking back, the one single thing that struck me by some people at Xandir Malta was a sense of unswerving professionalism and commitment despite the political bullying and nastiness that often used to go on.
Most of these Xandir icons have now retired from public life – but they have left behind something very special, which, I have to say, is lacking in today’s local media jungle. Despite my professional admiration for these people, I have never found it necessary to enquire about their politics. If politics, like any other subject, was discussed privately then fair enough – it’s a private discussion.
Reading Charles Flores last weekend reminded me of certain assumptions that were incorrectly and cruelly made about me years ago in Malta, which resulted in a certain newspaper alleging I supported a certain political party in Malta.
This hilarious notion (which could not have been further from the truth) must have been cooked up by some bored hack who was having a slow news day. The crazy, crazy assumption was that I was definitely a nasty supporter of a certain political party.
Not only was I an interfering foreigner meddling in things I should leave alone, I was doing it with the backing of a certain party. What complete rubbish! This silliness carried on until I guess the hack found some other scrap of gossip to blow out of proportion.
Today, all this (is) water under (the) bridge – but it does leave a certain bitterness somehow.
Sadly though, this has gone down as an inaccurate speck of history archived somewhere, just sitting there like an annoying spot that you just can’t get rid of.
If the hack who brewed up this heap of untruths had the decency to actually ask me my politics – then fair enough. But nobody ever asked me about my politics so the naïve and the silly made an assumption. Assumptions are dangerous and damaging – being a marked man for something you most certainly don’t support is painful.
But why let the facts get in the way of a good story!
Well, what a great week for news - especially for those still left residing in the UK.
I say that with a large and distasteful slice of unseasoned irony rammed in my mouth. We hear that about 200,000 British folk a year are packing their bags and waving goodbye to this green and, in 2007, not so pleasant land.
Many of these people are fed-up with the cost of living, the cost of housing, the danger of a terrorist attack, the weather and the appalling now seemingly out of control violent crime in this Country.
Ages ago I was lambasted by the Maltese for daring to suggest that if the Maltese judiciary didn't come down hard on the unruly and violent youth then the islands would turn into a cloned "nanny state". Well this week (indeed this year) has proved what a "nanny state" culture can do to society.
With far too much nannying going on we have a memorable year in Britain for kids with guns, kids in gangs, kids with knives terrorising the streets of Britain. And if you thought this was a class thing, you'd be very wrong dear reader. This deadly culture is rife across every social divide in good old blighty.
We have seen endless accounts of our youth murdered in our streets and in our homes. This has become a festering growing nightmare.
Even as I scribble this we are reading news reports of an 11 year old lad shot dead from behind after coming home from a footie practice. He died in his mother's arms the other evening.
I am not ashamed to say that as a 53 year old grown man I was reduced to tears as I saw the boy's mother and father appeal for help to find the 13 - 15 year old who shot and killed their "baby" in the back of the neck.
So, going back to my allegedly "over-exaggerated" words recently in the Malta Independent - we are now living a more dangerous more nasty nightmare in this country.
Time to pack off nanny and time to get tough - time to get put society back in adult well-adjusted control.
I never thought I'd say this but the words "national service" are creeping ever more onto the lips of many in this frightened and shocked nation of ours.
Little wonder so many are on their way out seeking a safer and better life.
I am a
broadcaster, consultant, writer, published author,
historian and researcher. I also have interests in digital
broadcast content.
Despite the ferocity of some personal events over the years I am
fortunate in a great many ways.
As far as my website is concerned,ianwaugh.com is a hotchpotch of passion, luck, admiration,
behaviour,
agreeable times, appalling periods and principle. This is also an
opportunity to have an insight into my performance as a broadcaster and
handiwork as a dedicated historian.
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I am a
broadcaster, consultant, writer, published author,
historian and researcher. I also have interests in digital
broadcast content.