Fantasy Eurovision 2009 - Results Spectacular

*Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome back to Wimbledon dog track for the startling conclusion to this year's night of nights. And here's your host... Ugly Dave"



"Ere, I'm back. You know last week after the show I walked into a bar. Didn't 'alf 'urt. Hur, hur, hur. Anyway, let's get on with it. Me mother in law is outside and she'll just die if I don't take her for a walk. Hur, hur, hur. Anyway, if you want to recap the acts one more time go here. Otherwise as the results come in we'll be joined by some often casually racist stereotypes for their reactions. Are you ready? Well let's start with last, because they're the furthest away from first."

23. Greece - Diamanda Galas : 0 points

Deep shock and resentment there in Athens. The selection committee will surely now be wondering if they should have gone for Yanni and his blistering synth pop moustache instead of a wailing crazy woman.

=22. England - The Members : 8 points

A very poor showing for the English, but aren't the fans taking it well? As is so often the case for the English it's a bottom five finish. Would Orchestral Manoeuvres In The Dark have done any better? We'll never know.

=22. Scotland - The Proclaimers : 8 points

Shockingly poor result for one of the favourites of the competition, and look the Scottish fans have come all the way to Wembley Stadium to protest about it.

20. Republic of Ireland - The Pogues and the Dubliners - : 9 points

Shock in rural Ireland as their favourite sons go down to a heavy defeat. Father Ted unavailable for comment due to being, err, dead.

19. Spain - Las Ketchup : 13 points

There's Don Flamenco. Noted Spanish boxer and Nintendo character. He's not at all pleased but did stop to tell us that it's not his fault that his country have produced bugger all decent pop artists.

18. Netherlands - Dr. Alban : 18 points

A poor result for the singing dentist from the land of the Tulip.

17. France - Serge Gainsbourg and Bridgitte Bardot - : 21 points

Poor result for the sleaziest Frenchman ever born. His understudy, however, has found time to chat up a young girl in Serge's honor. The great man himself did have time to give this victory speech from beyond the grave.

16. Romania - Enigma : 24 points

It's over to Bucharest, where they haven't had much to smile about since the fall of Ceacescu, and that won't change tonight as the song that a million babies was concieved to fails to finish in the top half. Food rationing for all.

=14. Norway - A-ha : 25 points

Shocking scenes in Oslo where everybody asks "Surely we'd won if they'd picked Take On Me". Well, that's not the way it works kids.

=14. Portugal - Rui Da Silva : 25 points

Obscure artist in 'better than expected' shock. Portuguese national football team said to be "thrilled" at being included due to the lack of any actual Portugal related stereotypes than didn't involve Angolans and machine guns.

13. East Germany - Nina Hagen : 27 points

Wild scenes in East Berlin! The hometown girl has beaten almost half of Europe and they're jumping for joy!

12. Northern Ireland - Feargal Sharkey : 31 points

News just in from Belfast, TISM have been recruited to fill this slot next year.

11. Moldova - O-Zone : 34 points

Possibly anti-Numa Numa backlash causes best foreign bubblegum language pop song of the millenium to fail to crack the top ten. This young lady's not too concerned though, all she's worried about is having to go back there.

10. Austria - Falco : 35 points

It's Don't Turn Around, Der Koroner's in town for the Austrian Eurovision tilt this year.

=6. Italy - Albert One : 38 points

Even massive corruption and gangland activity couldn't drive this porky italo disco classic to top spot. The above gentleman are working on an entry which we hope to be seeing in 25-40 years.

=6. Denmark - Aqua : 38 points

Strangely these guys don't seem to be that concerned about Denmark's failure.

=6. Iceland - The Sugarcubes : 38 points

Music by Bjork, jumpers by Daryl Somers. Strong result for the eccentric, and suddenly bankrupt, island nation.

=6. Belgium - Plastic Bertrand : 38 points

Nobody knows what a Belgian looks like, so we invited his Royal Majesty King Albert II to do the honours. He said in a statement "France, Belgium and Germany - suck on this"

5. West Germany - The Real McCoy : 40 points

Celebrations and drunken slurring all around for the highest finish of the "big four" nations. Clearly a more crowd pleasing choice than the semi-final runner up "Rock You Like A Hurricane" by the Scorpions.

4. Switzerland - DJ Otzi : 43 points

Strange things happen when you Google Image search for the Swiss Navy.

3. Wales - Catatonia : 46 points

No, it's not a late entry from the Black and White Minstrel Show. Because that, unlike showing pictures of Moldovan prostitutes, would be racist. No, it's just some Welsh miners showing their glee at finishing in the coveted third position on the night.

2. Russia - TATU : 52 points

The world loves sleaze, and even better if it involves a pair of schoolgirls! This is such a popular result that Russia's greatest musical exports (even though they were from Germany) couldn't help but stop in and pay their tribute. Quoth the lead singer "AHAHAHAHA! HEY!"

And that only leaves one. Ladies and gentlemen, the winners of Fantasy Eurovision 2009. You guessed it;

1. Sweden - Roxette : 55 points

And if you thought you had sat through 22 other acts just to see some scantily clad Swedish women writhing in celebration then you were wrong.

Let's get them out here for one more round of the winning song. Per and Marie, you crazy - and yes, hot - kids. Get out here now.



Right, that's it for this year. Direct your lawsuits to Channel 10 c/o Wobbies World Nunawading. Shall we go out on a song? Right lads and ladettes, let's hear it. Goodnight Europe.

Fantasy Eurovision 2009

(Dear readers, Last night's Eurovision was as dull as you've come to expect. No novelty songs, no classics. I'll get around to doing a write up eventually, but in it's place we now cross to the England for a version special TSP interactive event...) Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to Wimbledon Greyhound Stadium for Europe's all time night of nights. Please welcome your host for the evening, the one and only Ugly Dave Gray. 'ere thank you very much. You know, when they rang me up and offered me the chance to host this evening I told my wife and she turned to me and said "It's going to be a special occasion. I'd like you to put me in something long and flowing". So I threw her in the river. Boom Boom. Anyway, on with the evening. The rules for Fantasy Eurovision are as follows; * No matter if the singers carked it years ago. After all we've all died on stage at one point or another. * No boring three minute limit for songs. * In the event of more than one nominee being available for the nation then the participant has been randomly drawn. Got that? Good. You know, on my way here tonight I walked past a couple a couple of flies. One looked down at the other and said "Don't look now, but your human's open" Ah ah ah ah ah ah. Err anyway. Once you're done refreshing your memory of the classic hits contained within scroll down to the bottom to cast your vote in this important contest. Viewers across the world are hanging on the results. Shall we all have a bit of a singalong then? Alright, let's have contestant #1 No, not that number one. This number one; 1. Switzerland - DJ Otzi "Hey Baby" 2. Wales - Catatonia "Road Rage" 3. East Germany - Nina Hagen "New York, NY" 4. Denmark - Aqua "Dr Jones" 5. Portugal - Rui Da Silva "Touch Me" 6. West Germany - The Real McCoy "Come and Get Your Love" 7. Italy - Albert One "Turbo Diesel" 8. Russia - TATU "All The Things She Said" 9. Iceland - The Sugarcubes "Birthday" 10. Moldova - O-Zone "Dragostea Din Tei" 11. Sweden - Roxette "Joyride" 12. Belgium - Plastic Bertrand "Ca Plane Pour Moi" 13. Northern Ireland - Feargal Sharkey "A Good Heart" 14. England - The Members "Sound of the Suburbs" 15. Norway - A-ha "The Sun Only Shines On TV" 16. Greece - Diamanda Galas "Double Barrel Prayer" 17. Spain - Las Ketchup "The Ketchup Song" 18. Netherlands - Dr. Alban "Sing Hallelujah" 19. Austria - Falco "Der Kommissar" 20. Republic of Ireland - The Pogues and the Dubliners - "Irish Rover" 21. France - Serge Gainsbourg and Bridgitte Bardot - "Bonny and Clyde" 22. Scotland - The Proclaimers "500 Miles" 23. Romania - Enigma "Sadeness Pt. 1" Wasn't that marvellous? Now for the most important part of the evening. Click here to cast your vote. While you vote let's take a look at the act that the reason we're in majestic South London tonight. Ladies and gentlemen, the reigning champions - Cats UK Results will be available after a decent period of reflection.

Ode to a Website

Since I took my first, tentative steps towards the internet in 1997 by connecting via a BBS and looking up wrestling results (this very page. I'm still confused over the logic of the Dusty Rhodes turn 11.5 years later) there are very few websites that I can claim have had any influence on my life. YouTube, Wikipedia, the aforementioned DDT Digest, redhotplumpers.com, AFL Tables....

That's about it really - everything else is just background noise and doe-eyed, scantily clad Bulgarian immigrants. However I'd like to pay tribute to the latest member of the TSP Hall of Fame. 

First, some background. Fantasy Football is nothing new. I remember owning a book in the early 90s explaining how you could set up a league with family and friends. Not surprisingly my Grade 6 classmates weren't as keen to pore over the stats and the book ended up discarded. In fact, before the internet came along footy tipping wsa king, and fantasy games were strictly for Americans or the English. Even post-internet nobody gave a rats for years, before the mid 2000s when Supercoach and Dream Team emerged. At first I paid scant regard, bizarrely choosing Jared Rivers as captain, then leaving him in the spot for about six weeks while injured.

Then along came Fan Footy and I was hooked. Being the sort of insular fan who couldn't care less about any player who didn't play for Melbourne a whole world of random players suddenly emerged. Who the in buggery is Craig Bird? No idea, but he's been in my team for two years. What sets it above every other sports site are the jaunty little icons next to players that tell you how they're performing. It's replaced the clunky AFL.com.au Game Tracker as the best place to follow a game. In an era when a player can have 30 touches and still not be anywhere near the best players in a match, it's Fan Footy that gives you the information you need to know to follow a game even if you haven't got it on the radio or TV.

[NB: The graphic originally displayed here has disappeared due to being hosted in a rubbish location. Use your imagination]/

From the 'sun' icon I can tell the top six players are all running "hot", Jack Grimes is on Brad Johnson, Cheney is rising in value, Bartram is tagging, Miller is playing badly and Warnock has a specific defensive job. Hover over any of the logos for specific stats. What else do you need to know? Sure, you need to reject the idea of having a life to get into this stuff but once you do it's addictive. Looking for the scores on your mobile in the middle of a tedious date? Staight to FF. 

The guiltiest pleasure of the whole thing is the tombstone logo. () It means somebody's copped a long term injury but seeing it is a major event. Prismall, Hille, most of the Melbourne side at one time or another, you know that logo means somebody will be gone for a long time. When Russell Robertson blew his achilles to shreds last year and I saw that on the screen in a dingy Singapore internet cafe I let out a plaintive wail. It's one thing when the radio says somebody's done their knee, but it's not true until m0nty confirms it. 

The genius of the tombstone is that in my circle of acquaintances it has passed into common usage. Somebody's broken their leg falling out of a tree, "it's a tombstone for...". Somebody's died? "Tombstones all around". In fact, I would like to think that if I snuffed it tomorrow that my death notice would read; 

 Adam 1.0  

The other notable feature of the site is the running commentary alongside the stats, most of which is seemingly written by 13-year-olds or complete lunatics. The vast majority consists of people posting as if they're actually talking directly to the player, though it's hard to work out whether Justin Sherman would actually know what "BoMbErZ-93" meant if he rolled up to him in the street and yelled "WTF SHERMAN u absolute MANCHILD". Apparently it's a compliment. 

Every game can also be relied on to have some muppet post that they made the lowest scorer on the ground their captain that week (double points) as if nobody has ever thought of that gag before. Then there's outright abuse. This afternoon "footy_wiz" was moved to say "firrito u flowering [fuck is replaced with flower, hillarity ensues - 1.0] spud, the 2 first gamers did better than you". No consideration of the fact that Firrito is richer, more famous and more chance of getting laid than anyone who has ever logged onto that website, myself included. 

This year has seen the final ascent of fantasy football to the tip of everyone's tongue. Suddenly the real footy dissectors are coming in on Monday and talking points instead of tips. The old style footy tipping, where you'd study the form for ten years and still get beaten by the work experience kid who guesses, has been dethroned. It's a good thing, even if it has been taken a bit far with Dream Team updates on the big screen at the MCG and during radio calls. Even if it has created the phenomenon of idiots in the crowd going bananas over their own team copping a goal just because it's come from one of their players. 

 It'll play itself out over the next couple of years and everyone will get sick of it again but it's a wild ride while it lasts - and as far as I'm concerned Fan Footy is the best thing about it. In fact, as they might say , ,  

P.S - If I win my work comp this year I'm going to run into the office, throw Gatorade over myself in celebration and dedicate the victory to m0nty

Good God

 

"There is a nip in the air" he says. "I love Australia for Australians". Why are you rapping then you old crunt? 

This was so bad it couldn't even chart in 1992 in a year when 2 Unlimited, Right Said Fred and Dannii Minogue were riding high in the Top 40. Pure horror.

Bank of Horror

Everyone mocks me for parking my money with Bank of Queensland, but the distinct lack of customers has an advantage in being able to eavesdrop on other customers. 

This was a particuarly cringeworthy exchange between Horny Customer (HC) - a trady sort in a singlet - and Attractive Teller (AT) - an, err, attractive teller. 

HC - How are you?
AT - Oh not good, I'm sick 

HC - Oh yeah, I noticed you weren't here last week. 

AT - I'm getting better now 

HC - *laughing* It wasn't that AIDS was it? *silence* 

HC - I had that once. Ha ha. Got rid of it, gave it to somebody else. *long silence* 

*Adam tries to remain upright whilst feeling the need to fall to the floor*

*still silence* 

AT - So....... what can I help you with today? 

Supremely inappropriate. Gentlemen, remember that line next time you're trying to woo a special lady.

Sunday Video Classix

It's been a while, but where better to start off again than with the medieval stylings of Men Without Hats? Apparently they could dance if they wanted. Often through a medieval English field if the video is anything to go by. Which was strange considering they were Canadian. There was definately a sense of adventure involved, and not just because he was associating with a midget. Or assaulting a midget as the case may be. No, the Men With Hats were all about wandering through a field aimlessly. Whilst doing this they would find... ... a random blonde woman who has one line in the entire song but who you can't avoid for the next two minutes. So, off the disturbing three-way of Hatless Man, midget and random woman skipped off into the distance. Where there was much leaping, prancing and method acting. And a midget in the band t-shirt. Extra points for ignoring the otherwise ye olde setting just to sneak some merch into the clip. Sadly no records are available of the sales of the shirts after this video, but I'm willing to bet that even if they couldn't match up to Gloria Estefan and the Miami Sound Machine (pre traffic shenanigans) they would have comfortably beat Collette's "Ring My Bell" range in stores for Christmas. As dodgy as the acting is in this clip - and a simple screenshot won't explain anything - it's almost ludicrous enough to work. Also ludicrous is a troupe of Morris Dancers suddenly invading the town on masse for more leaping, dancing and heathen behaviour. There's another one.. And here's what you've been waiting for. The actual Safety Dance itself. Doesn't look particuarly safe to me so you'll have to take their word for it. In fact when you watch the video it appears to involved very quick and angular moves of the arms which could take somebody out in a crowded room so I'd check with your OH&S rep before you try any of this shit in the office on Monday. General medieval shenanigans. More medie... hold on, what the fuck is that! Even the midget starts to get confused as he tries to poke his normal sized friend in the cock with a mandolin. The exact same pose in which the director came up with the concept for this clip after waking up on somebody's couch at 4.30 in the morning with two pizzas and a surprisingly well-used bong perching precariously on top of him. Here's one for those of you 'playing' at home who want another picture of the girl. And in case it's your go here's another shot of the chicken mask. It's certainly mine. What do you make of this video Mr. Without Hat? Oh, and how about the prospect of another hit single? Fair enough. Less joyous is the live version where they suddenly decide they're Bauhaus. See you in 12 months!

TITLE goes here

You have to go a bloody long way to find any team I follow seriously winning anything but here we are:  

 Now only one division separates us from the Football League and real action. Dizzy stuff. Consider that in 1990 we played Luton Town in the (now) Premier League and 20 years down the track we're playing them in the fifth division. We had our club stolen and they had theirs destroyed from the inside - and here we are together again. 

Ahh.. Everything is alright with the world until 4.40 this afternoon when the other member of "the big two" get stuffed by 200 points.

A history of invention

Back when I was young, stupid and creative I used to invent new things all the time. Sadly none of them were in any way earth shattering, or in fact any good at all, so I conveniently avoided become a multi-millionare before my 13th birthday. During the years 1993 and 1994 I had a glory era for inventing sports which, frankly, I'm appalled have never been adopted by the IOC. 

A) No Rules Soccer

Now, the name is a bit misleading but we were young and tended to oversimplify things. You couldn't handball or attack the goalkeeper but otherwise were welcome to do as you liked. There was some sort of unspoken gentleman's agreement against going too far, but it was still a quality hybrid of football and Ice Hockey. 

Big hits and hip and shoulders were the order of the day on Malvern Oval for months. Over time people even created pro-wrestling style gimmick characters. Witness, for instance, the kid obsessed with Dragonball who carried a tennis ball in his pocket and would deploy it as required. A carefully aimed throw at the back of the legs could disarm a potential attacking move, but a poor throw could mean having to scramble to recover it - or even worse have it fall into the hands of the enemy. Other bonuses of the "jumpers for goalposts" playing field were the complete lack of boundaries (unless you somehow managed to shank one onto High Street), and the fact that you could play a ball from behind the goals to a teammate waiting on the other side to gleefully smash it home. Cue wild set pieces and the additional tension for the keeper of having to defend in two directions. Eventually people find better things to do and the handful of loyalists left went back to the ludicrously slanted and deadly ashphalt field within the school. It was truly the end of the era. 

B) Unnamed Contact Sport 

It was Grade 6, cricket was the most boring sport ever invented, there was no space to play footy, and we'd been banned from soccer against the Grade 5s because every lunchtime ended in a riot where somebody was hit with a stick. The little shits deserved it. So, 10 or 15 underage and bloodthirsty children were left with nothing to do. 

Enter late night television and a showing of The Running Man that I should never have been allowed to stay up and watch. This inspired a combination of Rugby, Capture The Flag and homicide. Two teams would line up at either end of the school and a ball would be left somewhere in between. The rules were extremely simple. Find the ball and rush it into the opposition base by any means necessary by the end of lunchtime. 45 minutes of chaos and an afternoon of post-match analysis in class were sure to follow. 

Of course it never really worked out. Despite a number of innovative tactics such as decoy runners, false intelligence, and the clever use of innocent bystanders which organically sprang up over its short life nobody ever actually scored. After a few games it became clear that once the ball was lost you just had to set up a defensive wall in front of your base and fight to the death to make sure nobody got through. Given more time I'm convinced these tactics would have been exposed by rapid counter attacking and/or SAS style commando raids over walls, but it never happened. 

One lunchtime couldn't settle the score, and despite my best attempts at creating teams with logos and theme songs everyone wanted to start again the next day because so-and-so was off sick and he was supposed to be on their team so sadly the sport withered and died before even being named. After a particuarly brutal match where somebody was bodyslammed outside the school library the authorities stepped in to put a halt to the carnage. Lacking the rebel streak to continue underground Fight Club style, the punters went their seperate ways and it was never spoken off again. To fill the void left by an end to meaningless violence I started stealing things. 

C) Skiffing

Now, this was pure stupidity. After a summer of cricket where every lunchbreak would cut to 18-foot yachting on Sydney Harbour Bay there was legitimate buzz for the sport in our parts. Mainly because censors struggled to contain crews using the foulest language outside of SBS. How we laughed when Rob Brown on Prudential got clocked by a Sydney Ferry and almost died. To understand the concept of this new and exciting extreme sport you have to study the art of the skiff, especially the hanging off the side of the boat into mid-air.

Our reckless version was to find the highest railing you could and hang off it in the style of Club Marine or Nokia. The more disturbed members of the skiffing community took this to extremes and started hanging backwards off the railing outside our third floor Year 7 classroom. To get maximum skiffing cred you also had to bounce around while holding the railing, so here was So there Nutcase McLooneytunes, with nowt but death awaiting him if he let go, hovering over the void with no concern whatsoever. 

How he didn't neck himself I'm not sure, but it was certainly the end of the sport. Like Alexander the Great weeping because he could conquer no more lands we wept (not really, you would have been bashed) for there were no higher railings to skiff from. Ever since the world record skiff performance I've had a phobia about watching other people standing, setting, whatever near edges where they might plummet. Can I sue the school even if it was because of something I created? 

 The real 18ft series would, for all intents and purposes, die in the arse when Channel 9 came up with the Cricket Show and now appears to be nothing more than a front for some restaurant in Darling Harbour. Vale. 

Then there was Downball. Not my creation by any stretch of the imagination, but an important part of childhood nonetheless. Now I'm sure this game is played somewhere under another name with similar rules but I can't find mention of it anywhere. Wikipedia refers to Downball as a variety of something called 'Australian Handball' which is played on a court and bears to resemblance whatsoever to our version which took place against any sort of wall with a flat, hard surface beneath it. 

The official website for their version of the sport - oh yes, it has one - shows people in gigantic walled uber-squash courts (think of a Jai A'lai fronton) hitting a tiny rubber ball from a mile away. My school did have a couple of these giganti-courts but none of them were being used for downball. Singles and doubles play was available and the concept was to hit the tennis ball into the wall after making it hit the ground first. First person to not be able to get it back on one bounce loses the point. 

Fairly simple concept, but the best had their trademark tricks. Instead of standard palm strikes the grandmasters would wait for the ball to drop as low as possible before hitting it with an open hand, causing the ball to skim low and force an opponent to risk grazed knuckles trying to chase it down. Many times we saw a plucky competitor playing on with blood pissing everywhere only to run to the school nurse at the bell and complain that they were mortally wounded to get out of afternoon maths. 

 It was first to six with a two advantage and the winner stayed on. I was quite good in my day, nowhere near the best but a respectable contender - top ten for sure. The only problem was that there was no top ten. No rankings at all. I tried to rectify this sad scenario with the introduction of tournament play and ATP style rankings but it went well over the head of less spectrumy kids. 

Then we all discovered softcore porn and the era of innovation ended rapidly. God forbid they'd had the internet then it would have been all over.