Smoke screams

...And the winners are... a group of non-descript bipeds, possibly offspring of Klingons and Trolls in drag, with multi-douze points, who make Kreator and Slipknot look respectively (but not respectably) like seraphim and cherubim, and who collectively declared "It's the Arockalypse (sic)."

The world is a foetid oyster, and Europe is no longer its pearl. This edition of the Eurovision Song Contest gave us Texan Germans, tall and well, dark Israelis, multinational Swiss, Norwegian Naiads, Bosnian babes and Danish disco-dollies, S&M gear, break-dancing berks, nervous nerds and androgynous males (and these weren't the ones who sang falsetto); bi-lingual ditties, regurgitated versions of last year's winning entry, and even sexy schoolgirls singing a rehash of Grocer Jack.

In all, a hotchpotch (sorry, an eclectic mix) of voices, genres, fashions, physiognomies, and the inevitable back-scratching by the "Balkan bloc" and the "Viking empire".

The questions are more metaphysical than "For how long will this country be called Former-Yugoslav-Republic-of-Macedonia?" or "How does one pronounce Herzegovina?" or even "Why is it that when the threat of il-barrani loomed over our run-offs, all hell broke loose, and yet, when there was a Maltese singer in a foreign contingent and it was considered a feather in 'our' collective cap?" or even "Did you see how 'foreign language', i.e. not English, songs made it to the first three places?"

What makes a song Eurovision material? What is, exactly, a creditable performance? Meanwhile, I reiterate that it is a dis-Grace to use the word zibel in connection with a human being.

The razzmatazz surrounding the contest is best summed up by the advertisement in which a hippopotamus chases a cheetah - and catches it. Or else in the video that accompanies Sing! by Travis, where there are two alternative endings - that both involve food fights. The most succinct bit of advice I can proffer has already been given by Sheryl Crow: Lighten Up.

There was a Eurovision-connected advertisement which went, in part "Make it a weekend to remember, not merely recall; start living it up from Friday by booking a long break at..." and more of this hype, which went on air on Saturday morning.

And on Monday morning, the XFM Radio new bulletin was telling us to enjoy Sunday, it having been family day - and did the newscaster apologise for fluffing?

This station also delights in giving us the latest biz gossip. On Wednesday, they surpassed themselves; in an item about George Best's son, they said he 'was seeing somebody' in particular; but let's not go into that. This being a Maltese bulletin, the statement was given as "qed jara lil xi hadd".

The other day I was listening to one of those radio programmes that lauds the Maltese language and explains its minutiae (and spelling and conjugation rules in words of one syllable so we klutzes can understand - and hopefully obey). It was followed by... a programme with a title in English.

This is also the case with the advertisement for La Vallette Wines, where the slogan Proud To Be Maltese is expressed in English.

One of the problems about broadcasting repeats (not necessarily on the station in which they were first broadcast) in that by the time their turn comes around, they are outdated. Some weeks ago, for instance, the well-researched children's programme on Radju Malta, cama cama, had some up-to-date information about 2003 UB313, the 10th planet, and its moon.

A couple of weeks later, in Teleskopju, transposed from Ir-Radju ta' l-Università to Radju Malta, there were several references to id-disa' pjaneti. But I suppose I shouldn't grumble - during the Sunday afternoon BBC relay of the London Symphony Orchestra Concert broadcast on the University station, it's the perfect time to sort out the ironing and the mending.

In the Hindu Book of Wisdom, the Tirukkural (72:718-720) says that... Speaking to an audience of understanding men is like watering a bed of growing plants. Those who speak good things to good and learned gatherings should never say them to ignorant groups, even forgetfully. Speaking before men of alien mind is like pouring sweet nectar down a drain. This was written even before television was a glimmer in anyone's eye.

U dik id-diska kantawhielkom l-ahwa Everly Brothers. Almenu, as one disc jockey succinctly put it, Eleanor Spiteri and Roger Tirazona came first in "the Bulgarian Festival", the name of which he did not tell us.

But the Extraneous Words of Wisdom Award must go to Robert Abela of Maltasong. "Mhux rizultat li tiehu gost bih... it is obvious that the voters did not like the song..." Aeons away from Nana Mouskouri's They all deserve to be the winners.

Meanwhile, in Britain, it has been reported that BBC has been urged to sell Radio 1 and Radio 2 "as soon as possible". The reason is, apparently, that the annual budget (in the region of £450 million, "had severely limited growth in the commercial radio sector" according to the report by the European Media Forum (EMF).

But before anyone gets ideas, it is pertinent to point out that since the two stations are primarily based on music programmes, they have a limited public service role, something that adds clout to the argument for privatisation. When all is said and done, the BBC could potentially garner more than £500 million from the deal.

Commercial radio stations in Britain, as in other countries, unless they have friends-of-friends with megabucks ready to purchase advertising in them, are strapped for revenue; understandable in a country where the BBC has a 60 per cent share of the radio audience.

But of course, selling Radju Bronja lock stock and barrel was never an option for PBS. I suppose, that's the case anyway, because otherwise the proceeds would have helped with the refurbishing.

Speaking of radio-gaga: I was under the impression that the PBS Summer Schedule would have been decided by May 15; the proposals for the next nine months ought to have been cut and dried... and listeners haven't been treated to any teasers yet.

All this is enough to make one work up an appetite for hut tal-frozing.