All Out of Fucks

Based on Iceland 1999
Selma — All Out of Luck

It started on Sunday
But not just that one day
Unfortunate series of events had all gone before, yeah

I was at a spa date
That regular Sunday
Held open the door for this low-life
He didn’t say thanks
You’ll all regret it

Yes, I know, it might not be too clever
To give this guy all of the blame
A camel’s back will break at some point
And this was the final straw, yeah!

I’m all out of fucks
This is me giving up
I’m now letting go of civil obedience
Running amok
And running around
I’ll teach them, oh
I’ll get them back

Yes, I’m all out of fucks
It will all go balls-up
I might put things on the wrong shelf
So don’t whine
Things won’t align
And the shop will be in a right state

‘Cause I’m all out of fucks (ooh-ooh)
I’m all out of fucks
Hey yeah, hey yeah, oh yeah

Pretending to be gay
Go home but the wrong way
To hide all the ashtrays, be a mime
Just sniffing some glue, yeah

I’ll board on the wrong flight
Ask for only the egg white
I’ll sing in a flashlight and sing wrong
While I drive a go-kart, yeah!

I’m all out of fucks
I’ll go swimming with ducks
I’ll say I’m named Joe
The next time it’s Bethany

Pee in a cup
Dress up like a clown
I will eat my kite
Like a snack

Yes, I’m all out of fucks
Coffee from a teacup
Roll up the one sleeve
And one not

It’s a sign
End of the line
Be nice to me
But now it’s too late

And I’m all out of fucks (ooh-ooh)
I’m all out of fucks
Hey yeah, hey yeah, oh yeah
Ooh-ooh
I’m all out of fucks
Hey yeah, hey yeah, oh yeah



Eurovision Everywhere All at Once

Based on Moldova 2022
Zdob și Zdub and Frații Advahov — Trenulețul

Hey ho! Let’s go
Hey ho! Let’s go
Explore and lose control
Free your brain, we present
ESC: the Multiverse

Every action sparks another
Creating a microcosm
Within: each world continues
Parallel yet kept apart

Something lately, something new
Harmed the order, melted glue
Once apart, the worlds collided
And they fused through the borders

OK, let’s go
Our tour through the wormhole
Come with us and be our guest
We’ll traverse the multiverse

On this planet, jury voting
Was corrupt, but still allowed
Singing penis ‘stead of pussy
Citi Zēni made the final

On their stage, the sun turned round
Sasha Bognibov beat us
Mia sang half in Bahasa
And Sam Ryder worked for NASA

Uh-oh let’s go!
On to another world
Malta didn’t change their dirge
But still came in 16th place

Singing Halo
Pia hit most her notes
Keith and Jim were then unmasked
As members of Bobbysocks!

(Stella was the astronaut)

Poor Elina Nechayeva’s
Fall on stage induced a coma
Iceland sent Reykjavíkdætur
Denmark med de hårde drenge

Em’ly Roberts, singing Soap
Learnt the words before the show
And Konstrakta (biti zdrava)
Asked us why Harry’s ginger

Oh no! SloMo
Scandal in Benidorm
Even though Chanel was best
She lost to the giant breast

Goodbye Disko
Outscored by BQL
Poland toned down their attempt
Only used nineteen effects

(Hozier was quite impressed)

Don’t tell Harrow
Surprise in Solna-hall
Anders Bagge left depressed
Linda Bengtzing won Melfest

Say it ain’t so
This one’s unusual
Every country somehow sent
Sara Deop as entrant

On to unknown
So rare this one-off world
Hola mi bébébé
Isn’t stuck in any heads

San Marino
Turns out they ripped the hole
Caused this whole multi-mess
Through the size of their NF

Each place we go
One thing won’t change at all
That Ukraine beat the rest



A Crucial Question

Based on Luxembourg 1979
Jeane Manson — J’ai déjà vu ça dans tes yeux

I ought to ask if you’ve wondered
why a certain Greek’s such a snoop:
Those crucial questions that he asks you
mean DEja vu knows your passwords.

Praise where it’s due: none the wiser
you just carry on unperturbed.
In the dark, you just let him charge you
’cause DEja vu knows your passwords.

Your passwords are fucked.
He’s cribbed them all from the MB.
Could be you’re in luck:
He hasn’t diddled you for all that much, but you see…

Those casual questions aren’t random:
They’re designed to bag a key phrase.
Just take a look through your bank statements
and I can promise you’ll have paid.

[Go on, check. I’ll wait.]

[Go on.]

An iced coffee in Vienna;
nothing to alarm or alert.
But go and ask your bank – they’ll tell you:
Yes, DEja vu knows your passwords.

I know it seems ‘what the EFF?!?!!’
since it’s Marios this concerns.
Just make sure you blank further questions
and that you change all your passwords.
The sooner, the better.

You’d better.

’Cause he knows.



Macedonia

Based on France 1993
Patrick Fiori — Mama Corsica

Locals humble, not ones to brag
But scream and lose their rag
When their artists drop the flag
Macedonia

Most people fly into Skopje
Plenty to do (unless you’re gay)
Macedonia

Formed on the banks of the Vardar
Paying by cash? Use the dinar
Macedonia

Takes just a day to drive right through
Lake Prespa offers pleasant views
Think this sounds lovely? There are flaws

Macedonia
“The former Yugoslav Republic”, Greeks say
Macedonia
And home to an Albanian minority
Macedonia
It borders a state that’s not recognised by Spain
Macedonia
When Tito died they left without force, but didn’t do great

Honestly Bitola’s quite bland
Small town surrounded by farmland
Macedonia

Arrival by land underwhelms
Tetovo bus halt – gate to hell
Macedonia

Had a bad start to ESC
26th place with Samo Ti
Macedonia

Cultural sights considered dross
“Ohrid Lake? Couldn’t give a toss!”
So say informed folks in Kos

Macedonia
The toilets at Sveti Naum border post stink
Macedonia
And emblems deemed to be offensively Hellenistic
Macedonia
Some folks insist they are Bulgarian (in Plovdiv)
Macedonia
No sea access – they’re landlocked of course. A naval lightweight

Rebrand should be sought
Why not start with ‘North’?



Nervous Flyer

Based on Ireland 1993
Niamh Kavanagh — In Your Eyes

Boeing’s now in motion
I’m seated, locked inside
Should’ve stayed in Ireland
But I hate the countryside
The safety card confounds me
Bad feelings start to grow
But now they’ve locked the cabin doors
We’re gonna go airborne …

In the skies on this damned flight
Jesus, we’re all condemned!
My stomach’s turning somersaults
My heart is in my mouth
Petrified, knuckles white
Don’t trust those hostesses’ fake smiles
These seats are way too small as well …

[cabin crew:]
… For your thighs

Maybe try distractions
The inflight magazine?
I’d rather down a whisky
And a dose of diazepam
Children all around me
Is this day care or a plane?
My bags got stowed away
Now my headphones won’t be found again!

Close my eyes
To visualise being back home again
The fireside in a cosy pub
The flavour of stewed lamb
Soothing harps, soda bread
Already miss you, Emerald Isle
I’m almost feeling chilled
but then …

MY SEAT HAS NO LIFE VEST!!
NOW THERE’S NO WAY I WILL SURVIVE
A LANDING ON WATER!!
IS THIS MY FINAL GOODBYE??!!

Oh, in the skies, it’s fight or flight
As I am crawling down the aisle
I’m screaming like a child of ten …
“WaaaAAAHHH!!”

[cabin crew:]
[Oh] Madam, please, be polite
and take your seat again …

“THERE’S WARNING LIGHTS!!”
“THERE’S WARNING LIGHTS!!”

… It’s just the fasten seatbelt sign:
We’re coming into land!

“WAAAAAAHHH!!”

Madam, please, hold on tight!

You must be patient
for a while!
“I DID THIS ONLY
FOR AIRMILES!”

These knickers have been soiled again
‘cos I took to the skies.



John Lundvik speelt een raadspel

Based on Sweden 2019
John Lundvik — Too Late for Love

Hey, how you been?
I wonder, do you yearn for Sha-La-Lie?
Say, am I wrong
To wonder if it could be You and Me?

Is it Never Alone?
Mhm
Is it De Eerste Keer?
I wanna know
Is it Ring-dinge-ding?
I can’t take no more
Is it?

Birth of a New Age could get your gong,
Or maybe Grow is your preferred of Jeangu’s songs,
Or is it Your Heart Belongs to Me,
Perchance Fernando en Fillipo?
Tell me!

Can’t be Als het om de liefde gaat,
(Is it Colorado?)
(Is it Out on my Own?)
Maybe
You’re the one who voted for Trijntje?

I’m not content,
Cos nothing from these songs gets your acclaim
Now, just in case,
A list of loads of things I haven’t named,

De Diepte or Arcade?
Mhm
Is it Lights and Shadows?
I wanna know!!

Outlaw in ‘Em, Slow Down, Walk Along?
Amambanda, Shine, Birds, or Waar is de zon?
No Goodbyes, One Good Reason or Tijd,
On Top of the World,
Rechtop in de Wind,
TELL ME!!

Net als toen, Een beetje, Ding-a-Dong,
(Is it De Troubadour?)
(Or The Party’s Over?)
Tell me,
Do you like Mouth too or just Maggie?
(Is it Ik hou van jou?)
(Oh God, I’ve run out now…)

Calm after the storm just makes you yawn,
Does Edsilia give you a hard-on?

(Ohhhhhhh!!!!)
I think now I’ve won your silly game,
I have realised your favourite, I’ll exclaim,
Now it seems so obvious to me,
Your favourite Dutch song,
Of COURSE it’s this one,
VREDE!

I forgot – you like a matriarch!
(The power she gives off)
(The kind of thing you love)

But in my opinion?
It’s shit.



Grindr

Based on Greece 2005
Helena Paparizou — My Number One

I was browsing
all through grindr
when I found a pilot who looked like a model

He was so hot
with an 8 pack
that I went ahead and told him “ wow I want you!”

So I met him
at an alley
and I blew him dry until I had him screaming

Then I took him
to the bushes
and I fucked him silly for more than ten hours

You were my fuck
my one grindr fuck
the only asshole I’d ever sucked
You were my fuck
my one grindr fuck
Tell me that you love me and I will eat your ass

Sex was so good
for a few months
that there were days when I couldn’t feel my prostate

(HAPPY GAY DANCE)

Something’s happened
you don’t call me
so I follow you into your swanky apartment

What the hell, dude?
Who’s this woman?
I think I’ve been taken for a very wild ride

You can see me
from the kitchen
now you’re shaking madly dropping all the dishes

You go crazy
and I notice
that you’re packing heat so I will make my exit

But oh my god
oh my fucking god
turns out you married a girl named Kat
But oh my god
oh my fucking god
good luck with your six kids, your dog and your Kat

You’re a cheater
and a sleazebag
good luck getting rimmed now cos my tongue is busy

(VERY ANGRY AND VICIOUS GAY DANCE)

I have her mail
her email address
and there’s one thing that you’ve never known
I have the tapes
of all of our fucks
and to your dismay they are now on their way

Back to grindr
but from now on
I’ll jerk off alone you useless motherfucker*

*Inspired in part, to my eternal shame, by true events. Don’t look at me like that, he was really hot goddam it!!!!!!



Eurovision Squid Game

Based on Sweden 1991
Carola — Fångad av en stormvind

*sinister howling*
*sound of tentacles*

Like that South Korean show
Contestants stand to win many millions
Is your cashflow running low?
Sign up and try your luck, you might even make new friends

Just a word of warning: while it sounds like fun,
You will battle like it’s nineteen ninety-one

In the Eurovision Squid Game!
Lots to play:
Steal a kiss from Sarah Bray
Take the last word from Amina
Can, İzel, Reyhan say you must get
Toto to enunciate, without errors
“Iki dakika”

(Braaavo!)

Now you’d best get set to run
Kim Jackson’s shooting wasps from her underwear
Tug-of-war with Just4Fun
Venetian acid rain sprays from Thomas Forstner’s hair

Bebi Dol demands you samba for your life
Did I mention she shoots lasers from her eyes?

In the Eurovision Squid Game!
Dodge the cats thrown at you by Duo Datz
and the ghost of Anders Frandsen
Wrestle with Peppino in your briefs
Take his socks off with your teeth,
meanwhile Clouseau point at you and laugh

The final battle: (oooh!)
Defeat me if only you can
I’m SquidCarola
and I’ll tear your neck, your face, your hands

And that’s how we got that strange name:

Eurovision “Squid” Game
(Literally)
And if you can vanquish me
You’re the winner of our jackpot
You survived these weird games – you’re a star
Take your money, buy a car
Come back next year, if you’re not too maimed

(Still think that’s an odd name)

It’s my Eurovision Squid Game!



We’re All Gonna Die

Based on Denmark 1981
Tommy Seebach and Debbie Cameron — Krøller eller ej

It’s your best gift, it’s short
And shrinks as you get older
Waste time without a thought
Then one day it’s all over.

Death will catch you up, no way to escape it
Not even through good deeds, might as well just be mean
‘Cause Heaven is a load of shit
You die, and you’re just dead.

Everyone will die
This is your future
Won’t be beamed up to the sky
You just go rotten.

No meeting the Reaper
They’ll chuck you in a hole
You’ve got no soul
This is the only life
So enjoy it while it lasts
‘Cause we’re all gonna die.

[One of the dancers died in 1996 after falling out of a hot air balloon.]

You’d like a twist ending, no?
Reincarnate as toast?
Become a ghost?
Well, that all sounds sublime
But you’re gonna be a corpse
And that’s it for all time.

(Death gets closer every day.)

Everyone who is alive
Won’t be forever
Give it fifty years or five
They’ll be cadavers.

No meeting with Jesus
If you’re not buried cold
You’re burnt like coal
Soon after you expire
And then packed into an urn
To sit above the fire.

(We’re all gonna die.)



Paparazzi

Based on Norway 1976
Anne-Karine Strøm — Mata Hari

There are days I just can’t make it even though I try to fake it
When a fish is my whole outfit, I’m the page one cover view
When I curled the barbell so low that I pulverized my big toe
In the end I’m in a talk show on the tragic and wonderful news
And for a while feel alive

Paparazzi, now a man, but every day a different gender
Paparazzi, look at me, I make love with a chicken tender
Give me a cash advance and you’ll get the first glance
You walk away laughing and leave me alone with my shame

As I feel like slowly dying, I know all my fans are crying
But it is too gratifying, life is never as the dreams
No more crimes, but in name only, I am still the one and only
Who could know how to remain free as I did – speculation ran rife
A private reel sealed the deal

Paparazzi, look at me, I have another fender-bender
Paparazzi, I am pregnant yet again, it’s the bartender’s
I’d have quite the romance if you’d just give me the chance
You’re not photographing, bereft of my chances for fame

Please come and see, I have died in loneliness, here comes the splendour
Paparazzi now consider me a human rights defender
All I see are my best of-clips – it’s like they’re taking the piss
The lie of the mourning, on par with the fright of my fame