Every year I solemnly swear not to let the Eurovision craze get to me. I always tell myself not to bother, it’s simply not worth doing after all, because for many Maltese, the Eurovision is the one night a year they get to see their tiny country on par with the big boys.

Well, that’s arguable. On par means a lot of things. For instance, to be on par, we would require to be as cynical as other countries. Although in terms of musical capability we have been on par with the rest on many an occasion, we have never been able to let go of our overwhelming pomposity.

This year, I broke my promise to myself once again. Not that I care at all, mind you, but I ended up drawn into the issue of 400000 Euro.

You know, 400000 Euro does seem like a lot of money, but only because you don’t earn it. Assuming you paid 3000 Euro in tax every year, it would take 133 people like you to pay Malta’s jaunt this year. Think you don’t pay 3000 a year? Oh you do! That’s 250 Euro a month, just over a 100 Lira, so if you don’t, you’re a lot closer than you think. Students need not apply.

To be honest, I tried researching exactly what 400000 Euro gets you. Now I know that it’s around the cost of Arnold Schwarzenegger’s legal bills in his 2004 groping trial, the average cost of a data breach carried out on French soil and the cost of implementing a a tuition fee system to higher education in Sweden (foreigners only).  It’s also the estimated cost of getting a driver in the Moto2 bike racing competitions, which of course, does not include the bike itself.

I’m not saying we should be giving this money away (which we are). I’m just saying that just because it seems excessive doesn’t mean it is. Maybe we should either cap participation expenses at 25000 Euro (thus making creativity and not budget size do the work for us) or double the current budget!

Whatever approach, I just hope we manage to get rid of this hideous dress:

This dress is a monstrosity. Plain and Simple.

Inflated budget or not, looking at that dress and everything else surrounding Malta’s Eurovision effort reminds me why the British once called us ‘part-time waiters’. It’s because we’re amateurs, and nothing comes off worse than an amateur’s arrogance, except maybe our lack of humour.