Pärnu Shore:

• Meet the cast of Pärnu Shore
• Pärnu Shore, Episode One: A rullnokk’s work is never done
• Pärnu Shore, Episode Two: All’s fair in love and shore
• Pärnu Shore, Episode Three: Between a rullnokk and a hard place
• Pärnu Shore, Season Finale: We’ll always have the shore

The roommates begin arriving at the Pärnu Shore house, a former toxic chemicals storage facility overlooking the beach that has been converted into a 3-bedroom mansion. Two of the bedrooms hold three beds, and the last bedroom holds one bed. The producers of Pärnu Shore named the one-bed bedroom the mitte-magamise magamistuba.

Jaanika arrives first and moves her bags into the bedroom nearest the sauna — after making sure that the distance between the two rooms is crawl-able. Priit arrives second and immediately investigates the refrigerator: the producers have stocked it with liquor and beer. Priit and Jaanika begin drinking and pass out on the kitchen floor.

Martin arrives third and is disappointed that the house doesn’t include a gym or a tanning bed, but he is happy to have fewer than 12 roommates for the first time in his life. He drops his bag onto his bed and starts to wake up Priit and Jaanika but is distracted by a bottle of vodka. He passes out next to the other two after taking nine shots.

Heleen and Riina arrive next, having both taken the same bus from Tallinn. Heleen becomes embarrassed when she sees the pile of passed-out bodies on the floor of the kitchen: she hooked up with Priit a few months ago while visiting friends in Tartu. She and Riina hatch a plan to hide her true identity from Priit – Heleen will dye her hair brown and call herself Piret. Heleen and Riina put their bags in the room with Martin’s things and leave the house to buy hair dye.

Kevin arrives last. He puts his bags in the room with Priit’s things and takes a tour of the house. He finds Jaanika, Priit, and Martin passed out in the kitchen. He considers waking them up but concludes that he’ll have more vodka to himself if they remain sleeping. He pours half of a bottle of Viru Valge into his energy drink and leaves the house to explore the city.

Heleen and Riina return to the house and begin dying Heleen’s hair. After finishing, they decide to celebrate with some drinks and finish an entire bottle of Viru Valge. They quickly pass out on top of the rullnokk pile in the kitchen.

Hours later, Kevin comes back to the house with a woman he met in a nightclub. They retire to the mitte-magamise magamistuba, and the woman leaves again after only ten minutes. Kevin goes to the kitchen and is able to wake up all of the roommates except Heleen and Priit. The four roommates leave for a nightclub — Klubi Suhkur. Heleen and Priit wake up at the same time an hour later, and Heleen introduces herself to Priit as Piret. The two start drinking, and, after an hour, retire to the mitte-magamise magamistuba together.

At the nightclub, Jaanika and Riina find themselves engaged in deep conversation about fake nail extensions and form a quick friendship. Kevin and Martin argue intensely at the bar after Martin orders a round of Saku, and the two have to be pulled apart by the nightclub’s security. The four roommates decide to leave, and the tension between Kevin and Martin is overwhelming on the walk home. Jaanika and Riina stay up until 6am drinking ciders, but Kevin and Martin both immediately go to sleep.

The next morning, Heleen (as Piret) and Priit sneak quietly from the mitte-magamise magamistuba into their own bedrooms. Heleen wakes Riina up and confides in her about the previous night. The pair agree that the embarrassment of having hooked up with Priit will make the summer awkward, so they hatch a new plan: they’ll dye Heleen’s hair back to blonde, call her Maris, and tell the roommates that Maris is replacing Piret, who decided to move to the suburbs of Helsinki to find a job. Riina and Heleen leave the house to buy a hair dying kit.

Kevin is awoken by a ringing phone in the living room: their new boss, Timo, wants to introduce them to their summer jobs in 15 minutes. The roommates will be working at a fast-food restaurant near the beach called Rullnokk’s. Kevin wakes the other roommates up, and they all leave for Rullnokk’s without Heleen and Riina.

The roommates arrive at Rullnokk’s and meet Timo. Jaanika is unenthusiastic about working in a fast-food restaurant for the summer and doesn’t pay attention as Timo instructs the roommates on the use of the equipment. When making a sample milkshake, Jaanika uses sour cream instead of milk. Martin drinks it but doesn’t notice the difference.

Heleen and Riina return to the house and dye Heleen’s hair. They once again celebrate a job well done with drinks and once again pass out on the kitchen floor. When the roommates return from their training at work, they wake up Heleen and Riina, and Heleen introduces herself to the roommates as Maris, explaining that Piret decided to leave the house. The roommates begin drinking together. Martin and Kevin once again fight and must be physically separated by Priit. Kevin goes outside to calm down, and Jaanika follows him. Martin goes to his room to do the same and is followed by Riina. Left alone in the kitchen, Priit and Maris begin talking and quickly relocate to the mitte-magamise magamistuba. Maris admits to Priit that she is actually Piret, who was actually Heleen. Priit admits that he doesn’t recognize either of those names, and the two become intimate.

I moved to Estonia nearly two years ago, on June 23^rd, 2009. Before arriving, I made plans to spend my first few days in the country with a friend, Priit, who told me that we’d be celebrating something called Jaanipäev, the Estonian observation of the summer solstice. I recently found this diary from that day in my closet.

9:15am

Arrived in Tallinn – the airport is pretty small. I took a taxi to the center. 500 EEK for the ride seems pretty reasonable!

9:35am

I’m waiting for Priit at something called Viru Gate. I’m surprised to see a McDonald’s next to such historical buildings. Also, there are a lot of liquor stores and strip clubs near here.

Hopefully Priit gets here soon so we can start driving to the Jaanipäev celebration. The town we’re traveling to is called Mustla. Sounds exciting!

10:00am

When Priit said he had found us a ride, apparently he meant that we’re hitchhiking. I’m standing on the side of the road with Priit. Three groups of girls have been picked up since we got here, but no one has even slowed down for us.

11:30am

Still waiting.

12:20pm

Finally got picked up by an old couple. Their Lada is pretty small, and apparently this is a three hour drive.

1:00pm

We stopped in some small town to have lunch. The only thing the restaurant serves is fish. I ate one bite and nearly puked. The old woman finished my plate.

4:45pm

Finally made it to Mustla. The three hour drive turned into a four hour drive because we had to stop three different times to drop off knick-knacks for relatives of the old woman.

5:45pm

We’re apparently not staying in Mustla but in a “village” an hour away. From what I can tell, the village is just one cabin.

6:00pm

The guy that owns the cabin is a friend of Priit’s. His name is also Priit, which has gotten confusing. I think several other guys here are named Priit.

The Priits got together and lit a massive bonfire. Hopefully the fire will keep some of these mosquitoes away.

6:20pm

People have started jumping over the fire for some reason. It doesn’t seem like such a good idea given how much beer everyone is drinking.

6:45pm

Priit offered me some barbeque called Šašlõkk. When I accepted he reached his hand into a giant bucket full of slimy water and pulled out some meat.

7:55pm

There’s a massive pile of empty cans of something called A. Le Coq next to the bonfire. It’s about half as tall as the fire.

8:30pm

I tried my first A. Le Coq – I guess it’s some sort of Belgian beer. Not bad, but probably not something I’d drink again.

Hopefully I can try a local Estonian beer soon!

9:10pm

One of the Priits told me that it’s a tradition to search for a fern flower

in the woods. I don’t know what a fern looks like, but I searched for one anyway. I ended up falling into a poison ivy bush.

9:25pm

The fire is not keeping the mosquitoes away. Bug spray isn’t working, either.

The mosquito bites combined with the poison ivy must be making me hallucinate – I just saw a guy riding a massive, standing swing back and forth.

10:30pm

I’m getting pretty tired. Hopefully the sun will set soon so that I can get some sleep.

11:15pm

The A. Le Coq can pile is now much, much taller than the fire.

12:05am

One of the Priits got a bottle of vodka from the cabin and now people are drinking it straight from the bottle. It’s called Laua Viin and it looks pretty cheap. I’d better not drink any.

I’ll stick to this other beer someone gave me – it’s called Saku and doesn’t look like it’ll give a very bad hangover.

12:25am

One of the Priits dove over the fire headfirst into the A. Le Coq can pile. Now they’re scattered everywhere.

12:40am

I’m out of Saku so I guess I have no choice but to drink Laua Viin. Someone told me that the name translates to “Table Vodka”. How bad could it be?

1:05am

I drank two shots of Laua Viin and I think I’m hallucinating again. It’s 1am and the sun is still up.

2:00am

I passed out for a while on top of the A. Le Coq can pile. I saw a mosquito bite Priit’s arm. It drank Priit’s blood for about 3 seconds and then started puking. I guess it got drunk.

2:30am

The party is still going strong, although most people are pretty drunk. I asked Priit what time Jaanipäev usually ends. He said Sunday.

9:10am

I covered myself in dirt so mosquitoes couldn’t bite me and fell asleep. The party is still going. The A. Le Coq can pile is now as tall as the cabin.

It’s 8pm on a stuffy Saturday in June. You’re restless at home and decide to go out for the evening: you’ll head into town and call your friends once you get there.

You go to your closet to pick out an outfit.

What do you do?

• Put on a skirt. I’m a woman.
• Put on jeans and a t-shirt. I’m a man.

Interest in foreigners living in Estonia piqued over the last few weeks, as information about the bureaucratic visa application process came to light and a Cameroonian student in Tartu quit his PhD program after being beaten on three separate occasions in one month.

Yet despite the bureaucratic gauntlet foreigners must navigate to get to Estonia and the threat they face of being beaten once a week until they leave, I hear plenty of English being spoken in the streets of Tallinn every day. There are obviously benefits to coming to Estonia as a foreigner given how many of them are here, and those benefits are often ignored by the media in favor of more sensationalistic examples of racism and xenophobia.

So I decided to take to the streets and ask real foreigners who live here what exactly about Estonia they love. I interviewed four random foreigners that I met on a stroll through Old Town one day; here are their thoughts.

What made you come to Estonia?

Giovanni from Italy

I moved to Estonia three years ago from Milan. I considered moving to California but chose Estonia instead. This way I get to live in two cities: Tallinn during the day and Hollywood at night! It’s great!

Rory from Australia

Tony from the United Kingdom

Estonia’s a great place to live. Back where I’m from, in Liverpool, everyone’s got a nickname. Mine was Plungerboy because I was a plumber. My mate John’s nickname was Toiletking; he was a plumber, too. Our other mate Adam was nicknamed Draino – he liked to use Draino when he plunged toilets. And my nextdoor neighbor’s nickname was Porcelain Pete. He was also a plumber. But here, the only nickname I go by is “välismaalt mees” – dunno what it means, but it sounds pretty slick.

Rick from the USA

Well, first of all, I’m from New York City. Ever heard of it? Ha! Of course you have. I came to Estonia because I smelled money here – I’m in the imports business. Now I’m importing all sorts of shoe-repair and foot-related stuff from the US and selling it at twice the price. Making a killing. New York City taught me how to hustle and make money. Money, money, money. I’m from New York City.

What was the visa process like for you? How long did it take?

Giovanni from Italy

I did not need a visa to come to Estonia. All I had to do to get to Estonia was walk downstairs, ask my mom for some money to buy a plane ticket, and then ask her to drive me to the airport! Next month, for my 40^th birthday, she’ll send me more money, so I don’t even need to get a job!

Rory from Australia

Yeah, the old visa was a pain, which is why I skipped that bit. I figure no one is going to throw an Ozzie out, especially since I’ve got me a job cleaning the bathroom at the hostel I’ve been staying at for the past eight months. Why give the heave-ho to a productive member of society?

Tony from the United Kingdom

Visa? Let me tell you something about old Plungerboy: he’s got a British passport! Got that? B-R-I-T-I-S-H passport! That means I can travel anywhere I please, because everyone loves a British guy coming to visit! I’m tossing around pounds like they’re candy because everything is cheap to a Brit! You know how much I paid for these shoes?  22 quid! That’s like a year’s wage in Eastern Europe! Back in Liverpool, you know how much I was making? 12,000 pounds a year! That’s a king’s ransom! Once I figure out what the conversion rate is, I’m gonna throw a massive party with the 800 pounds I brought over here to live on for a year. You’re invited!

Rick from the United States

Back in New York City we have a saying. Anyway, I don’t have a visa. I’m an entrepreneur, remember? In imports? I’m from New York? Hello? I used to sell cell phones outside Central Park. That’s in New York; perhaps you’ve heard of it? Anyway, I was selling cell phones and got the idea to come here on a whim. Where am I supposed to get the time to apply for a visa? I’m too busy setting up meetings with suppliers. You know what I’m importing next month? Shoe polishing kits! You can take a picture with me right now if you want. Nope, too late. You waited too long; the offer is revoked.

Have you learned any Estonian? How easy do you find communicating with Estonians?

Giovanni from Italy

Communicating is so easy! I usually just move my hips like this, then put my hands here. Sometimes I’ll point to the bar and motion like I’m taking a sip of a drink to see if she wants one. Sometimes that’s not even needed – I’ll just bring her to the dance floor and there’s no need to communicate at all! The only problem I’ve found with communicating in Estonia is that the music is so loud sometimes. It makes it hard to introduce myself. But then, I am not such a big verbal communicator, if you know what I mean!

Rory from Australia

I haven’t really bothered to learn Estonian since most of the guests in the hostel are from other countries in Europe, and me boss is German. I left the hostel once about a week ago and everyone I talked to seemed to speak pretty good English, so no worries. Actually even most native English speakers don’t understand what I’m saying half the time so I guess I can’t be too fussy.

Tony from the United Kingdom

Learn Estonian? As if the Plungerboy needs to know any language other than the Queen’s English. I’m doing everyone here a favor by coming to Estonia and teaching them the proper way to speak English goodly. You people are lucky I don’t charge you for tutoring just for saying hello! The only times I’ve had trouble communicating are when I stayed in Nimeta bar a little too long and couldn’t string a sentence together.

Rick from the United States

I don’t have any problems communicating because I speak the universal language – money. There is no language barrier when you’re doing big deals and running your own import business. People adjust to me, they learn my language so they can buy my imported shoelaces and anti-fungal creams. I’m pretty much the biggest player on the Estonian gray-market foot care scene. You think I’m bending over backwards to learn some other peoples’ language? Get real.

Do you think that Estonia is a dangerous place for foreigners? Do you ever feel threatened here?

Giovanni from Italy

As a foreigner, I do sometimes worry for my safety – the threat of STDs is very real in Tallinn, especially in the nightclubs I go to, and there’s no way of knowing if the hordes of women who throw themselves at me night after night are disease-free. I also worry about tripping on the cobblestones while walking home drunk. In my opinion, Estonia is a very dangerous place and one must be vigilant to stay safe!

Rory from Australia

I don’t think Estonia is dangerous. But truth be told, I rarely leave the hostel, and when I do it’s just to pick up some instant-cook noodles at the 24-hour grocery store. I guess the biggest danger in my eyes is starving to death because I’m too lazy to make the trip to the grocery store. Or suffocating because I forgot to breathe.

Tony from the United Kingdom

Do you honestly think the Plungerboy has any fears? I’ve met some tough guys in bars in Tallinn, guys who didn’t like foreigners, and I took every single one of them down with a pint glass to the head. I’ve got a scar on my neck from when my brother bet me that I couldn’t juggle three live chainsaws after drinking all day. I proved him right. But the point is, nothing scares me, especially not the foreigner-haters.

Rick from the United States

Maybe I didn’t make myself clear – I am from New York City. I grew up fighting off pedophiles on my walk to school and knifing kids for cutting in front of me in the lunch line. When I’m not doing big toenail clipper importing deals, I’m in the boxing gym beating on a punching bag or in Shooters talking girls out of their pants. I don’t have time to be scared. And if I did, I’d somehow manage to sell that emotion and make money.

How do you feel about anti-foreigner sentiment in Estonia?

Giovanni from Italy

I don’t understand it! What’s not to like about foreigners like me: we come to your town and treat it like a theme park! Who doesn’t like theme parks! A few weeks ago some old lady made a rude remark to me in the town while I was trying to seduce her granddaughter, so I screamed “WHY DON’T YOU LIKE ME?” in English. She didn’t seem to understand, so I screamed it again and again, each time louder than the last to help her grasp what I was saying. Then I did the whole thing again in Italian. I go to such great lengths to fit in, and still I am disliked!

Rory from Perth, Australia

I guess the anti-foreigner sentiment is pretty bad. I don’t get much of it in the hostel though, since everyone is a foreigner. In fact, I don’t believe I know any Estonians who dislike foreigners. But then again, I don’t know any Estonian people. The people that come through the hostel seem nice.

Tony from the United Kingdom

When I was living in Liverpool, there was nothing that I hated more than some slimy immigrant walking through the town like he owned the place. Which is why I thought people here in Estonia would love me: I’m no immigrant, I’m English! But for whatever reason they’re starting to lash out against us. Makes no sense to me. I give something back each time I leave the house: teaching the general public manners, culture, English language, fashion, physical fitness, hair care, all by just allowing them to look at me. And what thanks do I get? Literally none! Bunch of ingrates in this country.

Rick from the United States

To be honest, if I was an Estonian, I wouldn’t want me here either. I’m killing it with foot-care imports and thinking about moving up to the big time: luggage imports. After that it’s rubber imports, and after that it’s pet care imports, and after that I’m president of the country. So sure, hate me – it only makes me hungrier for the only meal that can fill my stomach. Money.

NB! Discounted pre-sale tickets to this month’s Stand-up Comedy with Louis and Eric end on June 9th! Get yours now!

Pärnu Shore:

• Meet the cast of Pärnu Shore
• Pärnu Shore, Episode One: A rullnokk’s work is never done
• Pärnu Shore, Episode Two: All’s fair in love and shore
• Pärnu Shore, Episode Three: Between a rullnokk and a hard place
• Pärnu Shore, Season Finale: We’ll always have the shore

MTV’s new UK-based Jersey Shore spin-off, Geordie Shore, premiered last Tuesday. But MTV is currently filming another Jersey Shore spin-off: Pärnu Shore, based in Estonia’s summer capital. The cast of Pärnu Shore was selected months ago from thousands of submissions; the series is filming this summer and will air in September.

MTV chose Pärnu as the setting of its next reality series because of its similarity with the previous locations. Rullnokk culture is Guido culture with the letters ä, ü, ö, and õ: the guys are buff, steroid-injected hooligans with the singular objective of sleeping with anything that moves, and the girls are human-shaped collections of fake-tanned silicon with the singular objective of sleeping with anything that moves.

New Jersey or Estonia?

Like Jersey Shore and Geordie Shore, the cast of Pärnu Shore will have to spend the summer working – in a hamburger stand near the beach called Rullnokk’s. And they’ll also be expected to spend the majority of their time partying in Pärnu’s nightclubs and bars in true rullnokk fashion: sneaking off to the bathroom to snip home-made cocktails while wearing a pair of jeans that cost a month’s salary.

Meet the cast of Pärnu Shore:

Priit

Hometown: Tartu

Age: 26

Tagline: “If rullnokk was a cologne, I’d be wearing a bottle of it that I bought on the Tallinn-Helsinki ferry.”

Although he has lived in Tartu his entire life, Priit is proud of the fact that he has never stepped foot within 200 meters of Tartu Ülikool. Priit hates the nerds and hippies he has to deal with in Tartu, but what bothers him the most about his town are the foreign students, because he often has to wait behind them at the McDonald’s drive-through when they go there on foot.

Priit claims that Pärnu Shore wouldn’t be authentic without him as a cast member because he’s the biggest rullnokk in Estonia: he once listened to the same trance song on repeat for six straight days – while skipping work.

Jaanika

Hometown: Viljandi

Age: 22

Tagline: “If I was president of Estonia, I’d deport everyone who isn’t buff, bronzed, and braindead.”

Jaanika grew up in Viljandi but moved to Tallinn when she was 18 because going clubbing every night in a town that only has one club got repetitive. She works in a tanning salon, which she considers the best job on Earth: not only does she get an employee discount, but she spends her entire day talking exclusively to people with tans. Jaanika enrolled at Tallinn University for a semester but was expelled when her fake tan rubbed off on a number of books in the library, ruining them. Luckily, no student since then has requested The Rullnokk’s Guide to Eyebrow Sculpting.

Jaanika hopes to become famous across Estonia after appearing on Pärnu Shore, which she thinks will make it easier to launch her children’s clothing line: Rullnokk Kids. Jaanika thinks that today’s youth are not adopting rullnokk culture early enough, proven by the fact that her little brother’s toy cars are all dump-trucks and racecars, not 80’s-model BMWs.

Kevin

Hometown: Tartu

Age: 28

Tagline: “I’m the tan man in the white van.”

Kevin grew up in Tartu but spends most of his time now in Helsinki, where he works as a bricklayer. Kevin’s biggest claim to fame is that he was the guy holding the camera in the Mis sul viga on? video. Kevin insists that his record-breaking consumption of 62 pints on the Helsinki – Tallinn ferry should qualify him as the world’s biggest rullnokk, but Priit disagrees – because he was coming from work, not going to work.

Kevin predicts that he’ll bring home more women than the other male roommates combined while in the Pärnu Shore house. He attributes his success with women to his muscular physique, which he sculpts constantly in the gym. Kevin says that if he’s not working, drinking in a parking lot, or eating sauce-soaked hamburgers from a kiosk, he’s in the gym pumping iron.

Heleen

Hometown: Tallinn

Age: 21

Tagline: “I look like an Oompa-loompa and a Viking had a baby.”

Helen is the self-proclaimed Queen of Tallinn, spending five nights a week in clubs and the other two in the back seats of old German luxury cars. Heleen, a mother of two, thinks spending a summer in the Pärnu Shore house will teach her how to be a better mother — because she’ll be nursing a hangover the entire time.

Heleen has spent the last 10 summers in Pärnu and knows the clubbing scene from top to bottom. She claims that a great Pärnu night always starts with six ciders and ends sometime the next week. As the roommate who has spent the most time in Pärnu, Heleen is looking forward to showing the rest of the cast what she calls the Rullnokk Routine: PPP (päevitamine, burksi söömine, ja pihku löömine).

Martin

Hometown: Võru

Age: 28

Tagline: “If I knew how to read, I’d look up rullnokk in the dictionary and read my biography.”

Martin claims that only Võru produces true rullnokks – he talks about this theory in length in his best-selling book, Minu Võru. Martin spends all of his free time – of which he has a lot, being unemployed – in the gym. His life’s goal is to grow his shoulders so large that he can’t turn his head.

Martin thinks he belongs in the Pärnu Shore house because rullnokk culture has deviated from its roots, and he wants to show the rest of the country how a true rullnokk behaves. Martin says he’s disgusted with the way so-called rullnokks act in clubs: drinking fancy drinks (instead of chugging vodka from the bottle), talking to friends (instead of beating them up), and leaving when the lights come on (instead of passing out hours earlier). Martin vows that he will be the new face of rullnokk culture in Estonia after Pärnu Shore airs, which is ironic because he requires plastic surgery every six months as a result of fighting.

Riina

Hometown: Tallinn

Age: 20

Tagline: “The only thing better than drinking cider all night is drinking cider all day.”

Riina has never spent a summer in Pärnu and worries that the lack of RyanAir connections to the small town will mean she might actually have to buy her own drinks. But while Riina may not be as optimistic about the summer as the rest of the roommates, she’s certain that viewers will consider her the biggest rullnokk in the house. She learned everything she knows about rullnokk culture from her older brother, who once made the drive from Tallinn to Tartu in 45 minutes – and then turned around after buying a hamburger.

Riina can be found most nights in some of the sleaziest bars in Tallinn talking to some of the sleaziest men in Europe. She loves going out and being the center of attention, which isn’t hard considering she wears the same skirts she used to dress her dolls with. Riina hopes the male roommates are good-looking and buff, otherwise she claims she won’t even learn their names.

I loved Getter Jaani’s performance at the Eurovision final in Düsseldorf last weekend. And as disappointing as her 24th-place, 44-point finish was, I’m glad that Estonia finally got a wake-up call: if it wants to compete seriously in Eurovision, it has to make some changes to the way it approaches the contest.

Talent, Go Away!

Greece, Ireland, Moldova, and Bosnia and Herzegovina all have two things in common: 1) they trounced Estonia in Eurovision, and 2) they’re burnt-out hellscapes that are losing population faster than a Finnish ferry in port. And when natives of those countries reach foreign soil, the first thing they do is vote for the homeland in Eurovision. It’s some sort of immigrant guilt: just because someone would rather clean

pint glasses in a soon-to-be-condemned bar in East London than perform brain surgery in their hometown, it doesn’t mean they’re not proud of their roots.

To be a contender in next year’s Eurovision, Estonia needs to send people to other European countries immediately. Start with recent college grads, since they’re the most likely to watch Eurovision: graduates of Tartu Ülikool should have a one-way RyanAir ticket stapled to their diplomas, with instructions to go forth and vote! Or, at the very least, to go forth and try to not embarrass Estonia by getting caught on camera saying the same thing over and over again while drunk.

Start a music factory

The best way to ensure that a Eurovision song does well is to test it heavily before the contest. Do people enjoy listening to it? Would they vote for it? Does it get stuck in their heads?

This is why Estonia should start a music factory. A music factory is a production studio that churns out hundreds of songs per month by different artists, puts them on the internet, and hopes they go viral. A music factory created Rebecca Black.

Estonia should turn its IT talent toward music production. If a music factory opened up in the Tehnopol, it could crank out a hit a day until something got popular on YouTube. Call each song a “start up” and engineers would line up to work on them, hoping to cash in on the next big thing.

There’s only one problem: Rebecca Black is 14 and sings about partying, and the partying that 14-year-olds do in Estonia is pretty much illegal in the rest of the world.

Submit an Old Lady

I think Europe was making a statement when it ranked Getter Jaani 24th in Eurovision: despite her talent, voting for an 18-year-old is kind of creepy. Perhaps Europeans found the process of using a phone to select a young girl unsettling.

If 18-year-old girls do exceptionally poorly at Eurovision, then old ladies must do exceptionally well: next year, Estonia should submit an 81-year-old to perform.

While an old lady won’t have the energy to bounce across the stage as Getter Jaani did, she will be able to sing with authority about topics that people find fascinating: diabetes, false teeth, chronic back and hip pain, the 1950s, adult diapers, frequent napping, elderly discounts, going to bed at 7pm, and hating everything. Rockefeller Street is about a street that doesn’t exist anywhere in the world; imagine listening to My Hip Replacement Surgery by Gaani Jetter. I don’t think we even need to vote in 2012: we already have a winner!

Submit a British Stag Party

The UK’s Blue took 11^th place in Eurovision with 100 points. Since there’s no shortage of British men slithering throughout Tallinn’s Old Town wearing matching outfits, why not recruit a stag party to perform for Estonia next year?

Submitting a stag party to Eurovision 2012 would accomplish two very important things. The first is that it would reduce creep tourism to Estonia by associating the country with fat, drunken truck drivers named Liam and not beautiful, English-speaking 18-year-olds. And the second is that it would temporarily remove a stag party from Estonia.

Recruit Matt Damon

Moldova’s 2011 Eurovision performance was the most clichéd thing I’ve ever seen: a bunch of weirdos from a weird country dancing like clowns, playing weird instruments, wearing weird cones on their heads, and speaking weird, choppy English with weird accents. The only thing missing from the act was a monkey playing cymbals.

And yet, Moldova finished in 12^th place with 97 points – which proves that the rest of Europe loves pointing and laughing at Eastern European stereotypes. Estonia should capitalize on that for next year’s Eurovision contest by recruiting Matt Damon, who performed the song Scottie Doesn’t Know in the most stereotype-laden movie ever filmed: Eurotrip.

Estonia should give the people of Europe what they want: someone to feel superior to. As a stand-up comedian, I know the difference between being laughed with and being laughed at. Moldova’s Eurovision performers didn’t, and they obliterated Estonia. Let’s learn from it. Besides, if Matt Damon was willing to appear in Eurotrip, he’s obviously willing to appear in anything.

RyanAir, the low-cost Irish airline whose airplanes double as garbage trucks, released a press release on May 11^th apologizing to Estonian Air for taking all of its customers. The press release was issued two days after Estonian Air’s president resigned, ostensibly because the state-owned airline is facing difficulties attracting customers.

As the hunt for Estonian Air’s new CEO begins, I thought I’d offer up some ideas to the candidates beyond the obvious. Anyone can throw around business-school jargon like “reduce prices from borderline abusive to merely astronomical” or “tell your stewardesses to stop looking at me like they’re about to commit a hate crime.” When CEO candidates sit down with Estonian Air’s board, they’ll need to pitch the kind of extraordinary ideas that can turn around a failing airline. Here are some of those ideas.

Treat Estonian Air like the Tallinn public transportation system

Buying tickets is boring. I love Tallinn’s public transportation system because each trip is a suspenseful gamble: I sneak on and prepare myself to sprint if I see the Municipal Police. And since the €1.60 price tag on a single-journey Tallinn transport ticket is as absurdly high as Estonian Air’s ticket prices in relative terms, the public won’t feel bad about bringing jänest sõitma to the skies.

Stop checking tickets for Estonian Air flights at the gate and let people board the plane on a “good faith” basis. Then perform ticket checks at random: if a passenger doesn’t have a ticket, slap him with a €1000 fine. Averaged out, the revenue per passenger will probably remain the same, but thrill-seekers will get the satisfaction of trying to beat the system. This will also create an opportunity for an entirely new revenue stream: put parachutes on the on-board menu next to €5 bags of peanuts and €8 beers.

Start advertising in British prisons

If Estonian Air wants to beat RyanAir, it needs to reach RyanAir’s demographic. Why not reach out to those people first, before they’re released from prison? A giant Estonian Air poster, adorned with a smiling blonde woman standing next to Viru Gate, will sell far more tickets than the promise of a discount, especially if it’s placed strategically (eg, the shower room).

While prisoners may not have the expendable cash or the permission from society to fly when they see the advertisement, they’ll certainly be thinking of Estonian Air the second the iron gates close behind them and they’re considered free men.

Release a diss track about the CEO of RyanAir

When a rapper sees his album sales dropping, he releases a “diss track” – a song insulting another rapper – to reinvigorate interest in his music. The same thing could work for CEOs: release a diss track about a rival CEO’s company and watch the honies and the loot roll in.

Because an old white guy, far removed from the game, may have trouble coming up with potent diss track lyrics, I’ve outlined a sample song below:

Who’s the punk CEO of RyanAir?
I’ll send him to intensive care
Talking trash about Estonian Air, but I don’t even care
Yeah, my ticket prices are high
And my airplane seats don’t recline
But who cares, I look at my Rolex when I need to know the time

Add a new route from Lennart Meri airport to the Swissotel

Estonian Air’s justification for its Tartu-Tallinn route – which, on average, is only 30% full – is that business travelers need a fast connection between the two cities. So why not roll out the red carpet to business travelers (which I interpret to mean rich people) even further and offer them a direct connection to the Swissotel? A cab ride from the airport to downtown can take up to 15 minutes in rush hour. Who has that kind of time?

If someone is trying to save time on the 2.5 hour Tartu-Tallinn trip by getting to the airport an hour early, checking their bags, passing through security, and then boarding an airplane, they’d probably also be willing to do the same for the 15 minute journey to their hotel. Charge them €50, call the flight a premium service, and Estonian Air has a massive new revenue stream on its hands.

Non-stop on-board happy hour

Whenever I have an extra €500 to burn and fly Estonian Air, I always find myself thinking: “the people on this plane might start convulsing if they don’t get a drink soon.” Why not pour cheap booze down their gullets and turn the flight into a party? Everyone loves a good happy hour, especially when surrounded by strangers and headed to or from a stag party.

To further capitalize on the party atmosphere approach, Estonian Air can install a jukebox stocked with 70s and 80s hair-band classics in all of its planes. If an English stag-partier has the opportunity to hear Boston’s More than a Feeling on repeat, he’ll pay any cost to make that happen. Which presents a second revenue stream: offer post-flight lobotomies so that passengers can have Boston’s More than a Feeling permanently removed from their neuro-psychological core.

Teach passengers rude and vulgar Estonian phrases on flights

Most travelers hate the feeling of being in a foreign country and not being able to communicate in the local language. Estonian Air should convert its plane cabins into classrooms and teach passengers horrendously offensive phrases in Estonian during flights.

Not only will Estonian Air customers delight in their ability to communicate with Estonians upon landing, but residents of Tallinn will find the massive surge in foreigner beatings a welcome source of entertainment.

England is a class-centric society: everyone is aware of each other’s social standing. The British Royals represent the highest point of the social pyramid, which is probably why the entire world was captivated by the wedding of Prince William and Kate Middleton. Their wedding was a brief burst of illumination onto the normally arcane aristocratic class in the UK – and, during this brief burst, I learned 13 things about the fancy British royals.

British royals love to high-five, but they hate making physical contact with the lower classes. Thus, the “air high five” is used instead.

Much like the T-1000 from Terminator 2, British royalty are made of liquid metal and can shape-shift at will.

Royal men are extremely paranoid about their zippers being down. Not so for commoners (Kate’s dad).

Thomas More was beheaded for in 1535 for refusing to submit to Henry VIII’s Church of England. Since then, priests have been forced to wear arrows on their shirts pointing to their heads.

In Royal circles, peeing on a gate in front of the Queen is not considered disrespectful.

The Royals find mosquitoes extremely annoying.

Members of the Royal entourage are prone to sharting.

A Royal is only allowed to smile when making direct, intense, unobstructed eye contact with another Royal.

Unless held firmly in place, a Royal’s head will tilt backwards to facilitate looking down upon commoners.

Royal men are considered fashionable if they attach little girls to their right sleeves and let them dangle in the air.

The ground Royals walk on is pristine and coated with red carpet; for commoners, it reverts back to its natural dirty, grayish hue.

Much like the Bloods and the Crips in Los Angeles, Royals divide themselves into two gangs based on color: Light Goldenrod Yellow and Baby Blue.

Because they cannot socialize easily outside of the Royal class, certain norms regarding dating and relationships are relaxed for the Royals.

NB! RSVP to Comedy Estonia’s No Creep Crawl on May 12th!

You are awoken by a strange sensation: thin banners of sunlight stream through your bedroom window, warming your face. You think at first that nuclear Armageddon is at hand — you consider which of your family members you’ll eat first to stay alive. But then you realize that something far less probable has actually happened. Summer has reached Estonia.

Not wanting to let the perfect weather go to waste, you immediately get dressed and head outside. Mobs of tourists continuously pass by the front door of your Old Town apartment, speaking a wide variety of languages.

An overweight Finnish man wearing a leather jacket approaches you and asks, in Finnish, where the nearest bar is. It’s 9am.

What do you do?

• Point ambiguously down the street and keep moving.
• Offer to walk him to Hell Hunt.