When you find it hard to choose among the best ones, why not choose the absolute worse you can think of? Introducing Jørn Hoel:
Seriously, we hope you didn’t press play yet. Because this is pure horror. And we’re not talking about Jørn Hoel’s inability to fill Don Johnson’s jacket. We just can’t see the purpose of this. Did they accidentally send in the negro spirituals doing their warming up before mass? Who gave these people the idea that Nelson Mandela were watching MGP in 1986? And where is Edward Said when you really need him? We don’t know, but can only say we’re proud of the Norwegian jury for not sharing this with the rest of Europe. Or South Africa for that sake.
But in case you’re thinking that this was just an exeption. That there must have been loads of other songs to overshadow this orientalism, we can just say: Hardly. Take a look at Frank the hair dresser:
You are most lucky if you cannot understand what’s being said here. And as for the rest of it, there’s really one comment that sums it up: You can NOT fix everything with gaffa.
We could go on forever. There’s plenty of dirt to dig up from this year of horror. But we should make positive thinking with positive words. And luckily the year was finally saved. By this guy:
Oh, Ketil Stokkan. We know this didn’t score all that much in the international final in Bergen. But still, you´ll always be our hero for this. At least for saving us the embarrassment of presenting all the other crap we managed to come up with that year to a broader audience. After all, some things are best left within these national borders. You also introduced us to Great Garlic Girls, and that scores you a permanent place in the Eurovisional heaven.
And let us just hope for the sake of our lives that Per Sundnes saw the final in 86. And learned from it. After all he is putting a new final together right now. Good luck, man.