You may despair at what might seem like a national obsession with the Eurovision but for those of us who love to pretend we’re the local equivalent of Terry Wogan for a couple of nights the Song for Europe brings some much needed relief from politics. After all, there are only so many times people can repeat the same tedious arguments.

The highlight of this week, if you want to call it that, was hearing Austin Gatt facetiously tell a journalist that the only thing they did at the PN executive council meeting was to go take a pee (“ghamilna pipi”). Yes, ladies and gentlemen, it is to this level we have sunk. At least he spared us the cruder version. Oh well, if people want to vote for five more years of this incredible arrogance then they deserve to be treated in this condescending manner.

So, call me shallow, but perhaps you will forgive me if I found the song festival a very welcome respite from politicians who seem to think they own Malta and are convinced they should stay in power b’cens perpetwu, as the saying goes.

The Song for Europe was very entertaining, made even more so by sharing the experience in the virtual living room which is Facebook. I only managed to watch the semi-finals but faithful friends kept me updated as the events of last night unfolded. Apparently, one of the most notable incidents was the inability of the presenter Elaine Saliba to pronounce some names properly. While some of the gaffes on Friday were reportedly amusing, what seemed like a lack of adequate preparation (during Malta’s Most Important Night of the Year yet!) ultimately left Eurovision fans spluttering with indignation.

There was also a lot of talk about holy pictures being strategically placed under garments, as some kind of lucky charm, if I understood correctly. You just have to love how we have even managed to drag our religion into the Eurovision, with all this talk of “jekk il-Bambin irid” and “jekk Alla jrid”.  Yes, sure, God and his entourage of saints are all up there, listening to the corny pop songs intently and deciding who gets the douze points.

Why do I watch it some of you might ask, when I know I will only grind my teeth at the dearth of good music? Well, it’s for the community experience of tapping into a pop culture phenomenon. And yes, it’s also for the sheer fun of taking the piss.

I know that those who may have relatives taking part or are somehow connected to the festival, are touchy and sensitive at some of the online comments….but such is life. When you’re not emotionally involved you can poke fun and take pot shots to your heart’s content, but once you dip your toe into the pool of this wonderfully kitsch experience then your perception shifts and suddenly what seemed hilarious last year is now…erm, not so funny.

I admit to passing quite a few comments myself although I like to think that I don’t become too nasty and personal, limiting my one liners to the attire rather than physical flaws…for come on, who am I to talk  about someone with weight issues? But if a singer such as Priscilla (now mysteriously re-named Kaya) decides to pile an inordinate amount of curls on top of her head and flounces regally on stage in what can only be described as something from Queen Victoria’s closet, does she seriously expect no one to say anything? That is just expecting us to practice too much self-restraint.

Should the public have free rein to dissect every singer’s appearance?  Well I’m afraid that once you are presenting yourself as a possible representative of the country, then yes, I think you have to steel yourself for it; it sort of comes with the territory.

Having said that, when I read the banter which exploded all over Facebook over these last two days, I did notice that there were some comments which, in my opinion, crossed the line. Rolling our eyes that Fabrizio took part yet again is one thing, but an unnecessary remark about his relationship with his father (referring to the title of his song) is slipping into cruelty.  Granted, it is sometimes difficult to ascertain what is an acceptable jibe and what is not – but this is like the Grace Borg episode all over again. I don’t think that gently teasing Claudia Faniello about her newly acquired (ahem) assets is unkind because she herself speaks openly about having had a boob job (even in today’s Sunday Times).  But, on the other hand, sniggering at Lawrence Grey’s short stature is just downright mean.

There are some things about one’s physical appearance which cannot be helped, and those, I feel, should be off limits.

But when it comes to a deliberate choice of clothes, hair and make-up – that’s a completely different story.  Sometimes a singer comes on stage and the general reaction is “what the (bleep) was she/he thinking?”  We’ve all been guilty of  terrible fashion mistakes of course, but when you get it wrong in front of a whole nation which erupts into a collective guffaw at your outfit, then maybe it’s time to re-think your approach to your image. Unless, of course, you really do not care what anyone thinks and will wear whatever you like, come Hell or high water.

Even if it means your high fashion pink leather accessories are compared to Vileda washing up gloves.