Eurovision represents everything that is nonsensically termed ‘woke’ – that’s what makes it so special | Frances Ryan

This week will be remembered for one of the most important events in a generation for the UK: a multimillion-pound spectacle of pageantry in which dignitaries from around the world gather in celebration before one figure is ultimately crowned. I know, I can’t believe Eurovision is here either.

Europe – and also Australia for reasons no one really understands – now has all eyes on Liverpool as the UK hosts the song contest for the first time since thin eyebrows were on trend. Of course, we are not in this position due to any real merit, but rather just an accident of circumstance – so again, much like the coronation. The Russian invasion means last year’s winner, Ukraine, is sadly unable to safely host and so the UK – who came second with the artist Sam Ryder – has stepped up to do the honours instead.

For anyone who thought this country had peaked in elaborately camp outfits, this week’s Eurovision semi-finals are certainly meeting the challenge. Tuesday’s semi-final alone contained a diamanté saxophone, Buck’s Fizz queueing for a red phone box, and an Irish turkey. The presenters – Hannah Waddingham, Alesha Dixon and the Ukrainian singer Julia Sanina – have the iconic energy of your aunts who just found the key to the drinks cabinet. Waddingham spoke French to the camera with the joy of a woman who had just discovered language. At one point, Dixon rapped the history of Eurovision. As the commentator Scott Mills put it: “That was unexpected.” The details of the grand final remain under state secret but based on the pre-publicity, we can expect Jürgen Klopp, two-thirds of Atomic Kitten and the Brookside sign.

Saturday will notably be the first time in Eurovision history that a country will host the contest on behalf of another nation. Organisers will carefully showcase Ukrainian and scouse culture side by side. While the British government targets “small boats”, the contest is unapologetically pro-migrant – 3,000 tickets have been made available for Ukrainians who have found refuge in the UK. The former Ukrainian Eurovision winner Ruslana will perform a special pre-recorded performance from Kyiv for the half-time show. In the run-up to the night, a virtual dance event was held in Liverpool and Kyiv. That the rave had to be held at 5pm Ukraine time because of the ongoing military curfew is an aching reminder of the reality behind the music.

Still, the worst people you can think of refuse to be moved. At a warm-up concert in Liverpool this week, some partygoers reported hearing homophobic and xenophobic slurs as non-Eurovision fans were thought to have infiltrated the event. Elsewhere, GB News has taken the boldly patriotic move of *checks notes* rallying against the UK’s entry, Mae Muller, on the grounds she is a “foul mouthed Britain-hating fanatic”.

Muller’s crimes apparently include previously supporting Jeremy Corbyn and criticising the government for failing to provide free school meals. It is amazing how quickly the people so concerned about “snowflakes” can wet themselves because a woman singing a song holds differing opinions to them. For the professionally miserable, Eurovision represents everything that is now nonsensically termed “woke”: diverse, unifying, tolerant. In an era future historians will surely be terming the Bin Fire, I can’t help but think we could do with more of that, not less.

Eurovision’s charm has always been that it simultaneously manages to be silly and knowing, channelling what is essentially a continent’s peace initiative through the high-camp medium of a yellow wolf-head named Keith. That blend of the ludicrous and meaningful feels especially important this year. Tuesday’s semi-final half-time act, in which the Ukrainian singer Alyosha (who has fled to the UK with her husband left behind in the war) sang as graphics depicted the separation of refugee families, was genuinely moving. People who have seen their homes destroyed are standing up and showing the world they live on. That’s the power of Eurovision. Grenades blasts through the debris. Hate rears its head. But the music plays, the crowd sings, and we hope for something better, if only for one night.

This week will be remembered for one of the most important events in a generation for the UK: a multimillion-pound spectacle of pageantry in which dignitaries from around the world gather in celebration before one figure is ultimately crowned. I know, I can’t believe Eurovision is here either.

Europe – and also Australia for reasons no one really understands – now has all eyes on Liverpool as the UK hosts the song contest for the first time since thin eyebrows were on trend. Of course, we are not in this position due to any real merit, but rather just an accident of circumstance – so again, much like the coronation. The Russian invasion means last year’s winner, Ukraine, is sadly unable to safely host and so the UK – who came second with the artist Sam Ryder – has stepped up to do the honours instead.

For anyone who thought this country had peaked in elaborately camp outfits, this week’s Eurovision semi-finals are certainly meeting the challenge. Tuesday’s semi-final alone contained a diamanté saxophone, Buck’s Fizz queueing for a red phone box, and an Irish turkey. The presenters – Hannah Waddingham, Alesha Dixon and the Ukrainian singer Julia Sanina – have the iconic energy of your aunts who just found the key to the drinks cabinet. Waddingham spoke French to the camera with the joy of a woman who had just discovered language. At one point, Dixon rapped the history of Eurovision. As the commentator Scott Mills put it: “That was unexpected.” The details of the grand final remain under state secret but based on the pre-publicity, we can expect Jürgen Klopp, two-thirds of Atomic Kitten and the Brookside sign.

Saturday will notably be the first time in Eurovision history that a country will host the contest on behalf of another nation. Organisers will carefully showcase Ukrainian and scouse culture side by side. While the British government targets “small boats”, the contest is unapologetically pro-migrant – 3,000 tickets have been made available for Ukrainians who have found refuge in the UK. The former Ukrainian Eurovision winner Ruslana will perform a special pre-recorded performance from Kyiv for the half-time show. In the run-up to the night, a virtual dance event was held in Liverpool and Kyiv. That the rave had to be held at 5pm Ukraine time because of the ongoing military curfew is an aching reminder of the reality behind the music.

Still, the worst people you can think of refuse to be moved. At a warm-up concert in Liverpool this week, some partygoers reported hearing homophobic and xenophobic slurs as non-Eurovision fans were thought to have infiltrated the event. Elsewhere, GB News has taken the boldly patriotic move of *checks notes* rallying against the UK’s entry, Mae Muller, on the grounds she is a “foul mouthed Britain-hating fanatic”.

Muller’s crimes apparently include previously supporting Jeremy Corbyn and criticising the government for failing to provide free school meals. It is amazing how quickly the people so concerned about “snowflakes” can wet themselves because a woman singing a song holds differing opinions to them. For the professionally miserable, Eurovision represents everything that is now nonsensically termed “woke”: diverse, unifying, tolerant. In an era future historians will surely be terming the Bin Fire, I can’t help but think we could do with more of that, not less.

Eurovision’s charm has always been that it simultaneously manages to be silly and knowing, channelling what is essentially a continent’s peace initiative through the high-camp medium of a yellow wolf-head named Keith. That blend of the ludicrous and meaningful feels especially important this year. Tuesday’s semi-final half-time act, in which the Ukrainian singer Alyosha (who has fled to the UK with her husband left behind in the war) sang as graphics depicted the separation of refugee families, was genuinely moving. People who have seen their homes destroyed are standing up and showing the world they live on. That’s the power of Eurovision. Grenades blasts through the debris. Hate rears its head. But the music plays, the crowd sings, and we hope for something better, if only for one night.