FUEL, CLEAN BURNING. NON TOXIC.

Eurovision. Is. Here. Like I should scream, one way or another. In all honesty, I try not to care. I put on my varsity jacket, sunglasses. I grab a packet of Davidoffs. I quote the Smiths and complain about everyone wearing too many denim jackets, clear frames and smoking Malboros. Gauche.

And I've never been interested in Eurovision before. I've been far too interested in finding obscure bands on BLOGS, feeling smug when I can't find them on Youtube and posting the songs with a jaunty picture on Youtube.

Except. I would probably go to Vimeo, now.

One year I went on a French exchange. I had to live with this kid called Antoinne for a week. I still feel sad when I think about his mum. She was a potato sack. She was smiles of hope that her very very very (squared) weird son could get friends. He broke his shoulder after he slipped on the ice on the first day. He was in pain, he was grumpy from then on in. He tried to show me porn, this XXX website. And we played video games that I didn't understand. And the cool 13 year olds smoked pot while I waited and waited for Antoinne to finish wanking.

I even cried one night when we went bowling. No-one liked him. No-one. And the walls were paper thin in his house. I didn't shit for a week because I didn't want his family to hear me. They just fed me cheese. Bread and cheese.

One good thing: MARIOKART. It was the first time that I played MARIOKART and I was shit at it but it was fun.

Sidenote. I was so excited on the ferry ride back from Caen. I watched Oceans 13 in the ferry cinema and I was almost sick. Closer (I think...? The one with Julia Roberts and Natalie Portman and Jude Law...I think?) was on in the other room, but it felt like I'd be watching porn and I didn't want to watch porn with ugly girls.

no no no no no

and I won some money on the Who Wants to be a Millionaire? machine. and I shared a cabin with

just say. people.

and, come a couple of months. Antoinne came to my house. During his stay in THE VILLAGE, he managed to develop tourettes. He chased my dog around the house barking and telling the dog off for barking. The dog wasn't barking. We went to the pub and he imitated an air conditioning system, asking 'what was that?' to my family. He took money from my mother and made no effort with any of my friends. He was more than a burden. I was more concentrated on doing my homework that week than I had ever been in my whole entire life. It was a nightmare. He didn't speak any English. He was supposed to be practicing his English and he didn't speak any.

Come the saturday, Eurovision was on. And I dumped Antoinne on my mother. They watched it and I had three hours of peace.

HEAVE.N.

I should scream, one way or another.

THANKYOU AND FUCKYOU EUROVISION. BECAUSE I LOVE YOU, rightnow, tomorrow I'll look at this and think

fuck

basically

because I'll be smoking a vintage pipe in a bolero, singing The Cure and complaining about people smoking Davidoffs, wearing varsity jackets and quoting The Smiths.

but for now, for the record, I want this one to win:

these tear dro-o-ops that drip drop, drip drop

...you smell like lipstick again.

YES.

I like her because she looks like she should be in the Eurasian version of Mean Girls. A complete bitch. I wonder how many people she had to shank to get to the top. She's definitely killed someone.

I want her to be my best friend.