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SETS THE CAT AMONG THE PIGEONS
SOME low-down, dirty rotten, low-life thug, some audacious, irreverent, disrespectful and rude ass***e has stolen my Eurovision Trophy which I won in The Hague in Holland in 1980.
A couple of Saturdays ago I celebrated my 74th birthday and last Thursday was the 37th anniversary of winning the Eurovision Song Contest. So in years I’ve had my trophy on view for half my lifetime.
Who would steal such a thing? It’s not like it was any great shakes as a piece of art. It was a clear, plastic, multi-layered ornament that had a gold coin floating in the interior of it. Is there now some young fellow in his bedroom standing in front of a mirror with a hairbrush in his hand pretending he’s Johnny Logan, while my precious award sits on his mantelpiece forlorn and bereft of its proper home?
I’m assuming it’s a he, as a she wouldn’t do that kind of thing.
And speaking of she’s, there’s currently a singer called Donna Taggart who was almost a complete unknown when she tickled the public nerve somehow with a song from her album, ‘Jealous of Angels’ which received 90million hits on You Tube.
This kind of madness can prevail with the advance in technology but the drawbacks are that for the poor schmucks like songwriters there’s no royalties on the 90million hits to be picked up. Everything is streaming nowadays and in places like Scandinavia they don’t buy CDs anymore.
It’s also going to impact on award systems because such ridiculous viewing figures could well become an intrusion into the Eurovision with one song getting 90million votes and another song getting four.
Mind you, the light-fingered Jacko who shagged off with my trophy may have solved a problem for me in obviating the need for me to make a decision as to which of my two sons will inherit the plastic geegaw.
When the trophy was here it was on the glass shelf in the bathroom. I’m not that fussed about awards and trophies but I resent somebody screwing with my musical history.
So, a message to whoever took my trophy. If you find yourself passing, you can always drop it back. No questions asked.
Recently I was entertained by a young man who had that very day quit his job of 16 years to take up a full-time career in music and he sang his first song as a full professional at my kitchen table. Such bravery. I wish him all the things that his heart desires.
Modern youth is very different from the innocent young people we were, subservient to our elders, our religious leaders and our dubious politicians. Now you can join anything anywhere, meet anyone you desire and get to play out flimsy scenarios starring yourself in the lead role.
THE Eurovision trophy was a disappointment as there was no cash prize to go with the award. It’s like modern-day gigging – you have 92million hits but you can’t get a guarantee of work unless you are prepared to gamble on the takings at the door as opposed to having a proper pay out by the proprietor
In the old days they used to say, ‘You didn’t do as well as we expected’ which was a euphemism for ‘So I’m not giving you the full amount’.
When you’re in the arse end of Mayo and it’s 1am and you still have to drive back to Dublin alone without a radio and with a dodgy heater to boot, the full bravery of being a musician got its reward when the first lights of the city hove into view and you prayed as you slunk into bed that nobody would wake up to crossexamine you about the disastrous nature of what had transpired on the Western Front.
The road is still hard but at least the heaters work better and you’ll have sounds in the car.