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It’s hard luck to Kasey, but Conchita rocked

It embarrasses me a little to admit it, but I must confess I was always and still am an enthusiastic fan of the yearly circus that is Eurovision.

This year, the bearded Conchita Wurst walked away with the honours.

Despite my initial shock, I was nevertheless bowled over by her performance. It was in my opinion the best song of the night.

My commiserations to our own Kasey Smith who deserved to at least make the finals and didn’t. What can we expect after sending an ugly turkey puppet called Dustin in a shopping trolley to represent our country in this contest?

By the way, another reason I am pleased the drag queen scooped the jackpot is that he/she’s win got up the nose of those homophobic Neanderthals in Moscow.


However a word of advice - I wouldn’t visit Moscow anytime soon. I was more than a little surprised when I read recently that George Clooney the Hollywood heartthrob who makes most women - even elderly matrons - go weak at the knees, wooed his current fiancé over a flirtatious emails.

In my day in rural Ireland one would have to brave the elements on a bad winter’s night on a rickety old bike to get to the local dance hall to meet the girl of your dreams.

Despite the pearls and hardships one would have to endure there wasn’t even a guarantee of a cuddle or a kiss. How times have changed.