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Dom Joly: Eurovision's host likes things puny or phoney

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  • Dom Joly: Eurovision's host likes things puny or phoney

    Dom Joly: Eurovision's host likes things puny or phoney

    13:50, 28 May, 2012

    YEREVAN, MAY 28, ARMENPRESS: I didn't watch The Eurovision Song
    Contest. Actually, I'm not sure I've ever seen it, but I'm certain
    that it's not for me. For once, I agree with the government of Iran
    when it berated its little neighbour, Azerbaijan, for hosting this
    most peculiar of musical institutions, rports Armenpress citing The
    Independent.

    I went to Azerbaijan for a weekend a couple of years ago. I can't
    remember what took me there, but it is a most peculiar place. The area
    around the airport in Baku is one of the ugliest places I have ever
    seen in my life. It's like some post-apocalyptic vision of hell with
    hundreds of oil derricks surrounded by pools of polluted water and
    clammy steam. I nearly turned round and left, but I persevered and
    made it to the newly revamped, rather glamorous, seafront, which had a
    touch of the French Riviera about it. At the turn of the 19th century,
    Baku had been quite the place, with people flooding in from all round
    the world to make their fortune in oil. The cobbled streets of the old
    town were now curiously empty.

    My favourite place was the Museum of Miniature Books. I spent a lost
    hour being shown round by the enthusiastic curator, longing to ask:
    "Why?" Eventually I asked what exactly the point was of all these tiny
    little tomes that you could only read with a special magnifying glass.
    The curator looked at me as if I was crazy, but could not come up with
    an answer. I didn't press the matter any further.

    I went to a huge, glitzy nightclub that was having an opening bash
    that weekend. As I walked in, I was rather surprised to see about four
    or five paparazzi outside flashing away at everyone who went in, but
    it was only up close that I realised they were holding antique cameras
    that didn't seem to have any film in them. I wondered if they were art
    students or lunatics, or if Azerbaijan hadn't heard about the digital
    revolution. Inside, the owners had paid for a version of the Sugababes
    to come and lip-sync to some songs that even Jedward would turn their
    noses up at. I quietly wept as they gyrated in Primark outfits that
    made them look like rather promising Eurovision contestants

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