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In the twenty-first century, the world is unequivocally divided into two: on one side there's us, the supercaliespansionistispaghettomafioso, who over the years have adopted models from every part of the world, from American fast food to the Kama Sutra, from hip-hop to curry, and yet we cling to our own models like a cat to its balls. On the other side, there's Russia, the country where vodka flows like rivers, communism still exists, and no man on earth has ever managed to conquer it. Now, imagine if these two world powers merged into a single orgasmic element, if Berlusconi and Putin had a child who eats pasta and ragù while fighting a bear, if the turbo-powered diesel tanks that can cross the Apennines in a few hours fused with the most tactical and impregnable vehicle: the PANDINO. That day, my friends, has come. That day was December 31, 2020. After a remarkably catastrophic year, a spark emerged from nowhere. Then the smoke. Then, like Aladdin's genie, a man appeared who seemed to have come from the Italian 80s, who speaks Italian better than many other Italians. It is he, the schizophrenic and brilliant mind. And with him, dancers and a writing in capital letters: CIAO 2020
We already have both essential and non-essential information before watching: broadcast live nationally on Channel 1 Russia (practically Rai 1) and conceptualized and hosted by the one who goes by the pseudonym Giovanni Urganti. That's it, this is what is necessary and unnecessary to know. To be precise and imprecise.
After the introduction of good Giovanni, the co-hosts and creators of comedic sketches follow: the comatic Matteo Crustaldi, who took a taxi and went into a coma on the dresser alone, the guru-like Alessandro Gudini known as the man with the coonskin cap for his hair style... a cappella. And finally, the one and only Allegra Michele, who attracts the most avid Italian-Russian bocce players. And after this introduction, the evening officially begins, with a hit now known all over the globe: Crush by Niletto Niletti in duet with Claudia Cocca. Making a dance cameo: random nerd, the normal version of Venditti, a fake Rihanna, and the man with the coonskin cap's brother.
WARNING: THE FOLLOWING SECTION IS NOT SUITABLE FOR THE MOST SENSITIVE, IF YOU DON'T WANT TO BE SHOCKED, SKIP IT ALTOGETHER. After this masterpiece performance, an interview: Giovanni Urganti, in a tête-à-tête with the pornographic director Alessandro Pallini, who shows the world premiere of his new revolutionary film: it features ONLY MEN, who probably practice the devious python move with too much masculine pride. Also present are the man in a coma on Como and the man with the coonskin cap who, in a sign of appreciation, dance the rumba with the bearded ladies.
Second song, second artist: Jony, aka the Pieraccioni from a parallel dimension, delights us with his La cometa and jubilation immediately ensues in the studio. The vaporized guys and the girls with the package are ecstatic, the paying police applaud happily, the bosses scream as if they were at a Mozart concert.
And after the arrival of the esteemed showgirl Ornella Buzzi, famous for having put Fedez at the Slayer concert in Assago, the third song trial: Arti e Asti with Bambina balla, where the young version of Conte debasico plays the disc jockey surrounded by a bunch of pullets... some things never change. Also among the dancing extras is the presence of the great-great-grandson of Totò Rina, intent on dancing with more alcohol than blood in his body and with sunglasses that compete with those of the Martello high school student. After that, a dash to the bar to get drunk until we honor the wrong to say goodbye to this stinky year, in the French way and the cap master’s meeting with Milanka known as the vaporous steam iron and Gerolomo Paffuto, intent like all other paying spectators to consume the buffet and dance doubtful things from the 80s.
Fourth artist: Crema de la soda, a name that can compete with Nuclear Tactical Penguins, who brings her Piango al tecno. Special featuring: the young Pope, just back from a two-week vacation in Venice and in the midst of a big hit of coke, the shocked referee who dances for a red card given to Ibrahimovic, and the police academy team intent on playing for the aforementioned Crema de la soda. The result is as Italianly Russian as one can imagine.
Follows an event of vital importance for the show: the bingo, where the unfortunate Gigi participates. Poor Gigi, all the numbers come out from 60 to 69, and in the end, he clings on. Every time Allegra Michele draws a number, the camera zooms in on her breasts... what could this suspicious shot mean?
Then, a vision: a Milva born in '93. A red mane can give so much: La Dora who, out of respect, I will call The Adora, brings her Innamorata accompanied by her entourage of bodyguards, all of which have a haircut that evokes asepticism. Yet she The Adora. And if The Dora adores her, what can we do? Obviously sending the ADVERTISEMENT
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Welcome back to Ciao 2020. Now we enjoy the sixth song, namely La baldoria, where Nicola Bascha duets with the lyricist Daniele Milocchi. Intriguing featuring, endorsed by comin-deb! To top it all off, also the unauthorized zumba dancers, who will immediately be shot for failing to purchase a ticket. Shortly thereafter, Giorgio Criddi arrives freelancing with his Ragazza copertina which, apart from the dancers of Striscia la notizia, doesn’t say much.
May God bless us! The Italian-Soviet union in these 30 minutes has given us a heritage to keep in the annals for a long time. How to make this heritage even more imposing? With another interview by Giovanni, this time with the three actresses of the famous sitcom Quattro putane (not a random error), three because the fourth is at work right now. Anyway, Giovanni, being the gallant gentleman he is, asks them a couple of innocuous questions, such as their favorite type of pasta. But the man with the coonskin cap, under the effects of speedball, prepares a trophy of pasta to be finished within a time limit. Being the gentleman he is, Giovanni invites the three of the four putane to help the poor man with the coonskin cap finish this huge food cluster with only a bottle of cherry vodka each. After that, the three putane leave, probably to their hotel room where Giovanni is waiting for them in the company of the missing friend.
After the appearance of the Russian and platinum version of Carella called Giovanni Dorni who brings his Cicchi accompanied by the Russian space aeronautics and the arrival of the national Ida Gallicci it’s time to hang out the laundry: unfortunately, from it comes Julia Ziverti with her evil step-sisters singing Credo and it’s an instant party. Tables fly, lights move in a hypnotic dance. And it’s immediate enjoyment.
But after all, Italy is, and what would Italy be without the songwriters? So to please the older audience and Gianni Boncompagni, here is Giovanni in a tête-à-tête with singer-songwriter Enrico Carlacci, who proposes a completely acoustic and improvised version of Canti e balli. The audience laughs. There is no longer respect for songs of the past. However, refrain from changing the channel! It’s time to evoke an old demon.
Piccolo Grandi (a fake name worthy of Galileo Galilei) delights us in the company of the drunken copy of Marilyn Manson and Elettra Lamborghini with one of the universal masterpieces of this millennium: MAMMAMARIA RARRANGED IN A TECHNO-RUSSIAN KEY. An ejaculation of bass, ballets have made a piece by Ricchi e Poveri a masterpiece. I would never have said it. Yet it happened. Russia, you are my new idol.
But then, from the heights of our hearts, he arrives: Pippo the second, in a golden bathrobe, inaugurates 2021 by lighting a Christmas tree with a flip-flop. In the audience there is emotion, bras fly, the less dignified males scream like fairies. And as if it were nothing, it's immediately confirmation.
In the blink of an eye, we've reached the end. Giovanni says goodbye, singing with a red-haired lady dressed in green a final song and like Chrome pages all the guests who appeared during the evening appear. In a stroke, it’s another year. In an instant, a year dies.
But unfortunately, the most painful moment has arrived: this union must be interrupted. It was 53 minutes of madness, dances, jokes, joy, and emotion, among Russian techno, the 80s, spaghetti, prostitutes, and an all-male porn. We had a lot of fun but now we must say goodbye: we will go back to complaining about politicians, eating pecorino and pasta with a not-giving-damn attitude, and Russia will go back to doing the things it usually does, unaware that for almost an hour their world disintegrated. This show must be a warning to everyone: one day Italy will unite with Russia, but that day is not today. We are capable of much together, let us remember. And go in peace. Amen.
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