In a post on Facebook last night, Shay Healy described the individual who stole his Eurovision Song Contest trophy (or as he described it, his “plastic geegaw”) as a “low down, dirty rotten low life thug”. The trophy was taken from his Dublin home earlier this week.
Shay Healy won the Eurovision Song Contest in 1980 as the songwriter behind Johnny Logan’s “What’s Another Year”, Ireland’s second win of seven. Healy said the trophy was taken from a glass shelf in his bathroom. Speaking to Irish national broadcasters RTE, Healy said that “a steady stream of people going through the house for a couple of weeks”.
Pleading to the individual who stole the trophy, Shay Healy said, “and if you find yourself passing by you can drop back my trophy no questions asked”.
Shay Healy: “Where’s My Eurovision Trophy?”
“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 seventy fourth birthday and this past Thursday was the thirty seventh 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 some young fellow in his bedroom standing in front 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 Angles” which received ninety million 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 ninety million 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 ninety million 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.
Last week I was entertained by a young man called Johnny Rage who had that very day quit his job of sixteen 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 men and women that 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 ninety two million 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 one o’clock in the morning and you still have to drive back to Dublin alone without a radio and a dodgy heater to boot, the full bravery of being a musician got it’s 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 cross examine 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.
And if you find yourself passing by you can drop back my trophy no questions asked.”