Sebastien Tellier has been condemned by some French public figures for the fact that his Eurovision entry, ‘Divine’, has only a few lines of French in it. On the evidence of last night, they should be far more worried about his stage act’s effect on international relations than any piffling matters of linguistic pride.

Tellier looks something like a playboy hobo, a stage persona louche to the bone. Constantly digressing from a set that showed off Sexuality in a very fine light, with his band adding a welcome level of punch to it, he discussed our ugliness as a people and his love of parties, prostitutes and young boys. Otherwise, he kept himself occupied with a fully committed seduction of the mic stand and some unwarranted bump ’n’ grind with the poor piano. This is a man whose tongue, when not down the throat of a beautiful person, is clearly in cheek.

And yet this was no Gallic Har Mar Superstar – his treatment of old favourite ‘La Ritournelle’ was astonishing, building it into something epic without a retreat into po-facedness. Fine tunes, and a light touch with utter filth: who could ask for more?

Richard Davie
Photo: Rachel Slack