IT'S naff, it's kitsch, it's sexist. It registers high on the cringe scale and some of the dresses and the saccharine sweetness of the contestants would make you want to barf.
It's also hugely popular, known worldwide, achieved a higher TAM rating than the Pope's visit here and has been going for almost four decades.
Love it or hate it, it is difficult to ignore the Rose of Tralee.
Now in its 38th year, the festival looks likely to keep going forever. Certainly, the 250,000 people who will pile into Tralee over the next few days have few complaints.
It's fashionable, though, to knock it. Stories with any hint of scandal are greeted with relish. What better headline next week than one which would include (quelle horreur) the words "Rose", three-in-a-bed" and "romp".
The best scandals we've had so far (or those found we've out about) are a measly couple of misbehaving escorts, and a ban on unmarried mothers. Incredibly, in almost four decades the name of a Rose has never been publicly besmirched.
There are many who go to Tralee for the week and who never lay eyes (let alone anything else) on a Rose. It is a festival that exists at several levels - perhaps that explains its appeal. At one level, hundreds of visitors just pitch a tent on a local GAA playing field and spend the week making tours of the local hostelries. In the streets they enjoy free music. The only roses they see are the ones in the hedges. Others do it differently, attending the black-tie festival ball, a round of receptions, and the selection nights at the Dome.
Then there's the other Rose of Tralee, on the television with compare Derek Davis and the 33 contestants. It draws audiences of 1.25 million each year. counting among its attractions the fact that you can open a book at home and spend the time trying to second guess the judges. You can also criticise the dresses, or the performances, dip in and out of the broadcast and miss nothing if you pop out to make a cup of tea.
Of course, there's the enduring appeal of pretty girls - although the organisers insist the Roses are picked for their personalities, not their vital statistics. They are usually beautiful - but you can't call it a "beauty" pageant. Which prompts one to think that if you're chosen as a Rose contestant and don't win, not only are you not good looking enough, you're not bright enough either!
Demure is a word that comes to mind. Overt sexuality is not something to be found among the Roses, at least judging from the information fed out about this year's bunch. This collection of inane trivia tells us five Roses are basketball fans, one was a volunteer in the Special Olympics, 17 come from families with four or more children, and 12 have at some time performed on stage. We are essentially talking about wholesome, untainted females from good Catholic families. It's no wonder the feminists grind their teeth. Can you remember the last one who said she was cohabiting with her boyfriend and believed cannabis should be legalised?
Compare this to a contest of a similar nature held in north Kerry - the Ballybunion Bachelor Festival. Ballybunion is a veritable sexfest in comparison with the Rose of Tralee. The aim of the male contestant appears to be to drink as much as possible and "score" with as many females as possible. The only rule is to steer clear of the judges. Contestants are not penalised in any way for this behaviour: in fact, it adds to their cachet.
Not so the Rose contestants in their below-the-knee skirts and tidy hats. On stage they smile at Gay (it's still impossible to think of them smiling at Derek), tell interesting anecdotes, sing a song or lift their skirts to show slim ankles in order to perform an Irish dance.
And there's hardly one from previous years that sticks in the mind. As Gay himself, now a judge, complained during the week, they have become "more standardised". He blamed the presence of the same old faces on selection committees.
Indeed, if anything comes to mind immediately it is Gay's own non sequiturs over the years, including the time he came back after the interval and told a joke connecting our Tanaiste's name, (Dick was in the audience with his mortified wife at the time) to a sex aid. Gay later admitted it had been ill-judged.
It's the Yanks who take the whole thing most seriously, followed closely by the Australians. They may send a different candidate each year but those same old faces" from the New World are old hands at Tralee. Apparently, they want to win so badly they show videos of the contest going back over the past five years to their Rose, to study the winners closely.
Somewhat impossibly, the American women are usually completing three university degrees simultaneously while doing voluntary work such as helping "crack" babies. It has almost always been Daddy's wish that his little girl be crowned the Rose of Tralee.
Whether she is or not is all down to the five judges. At the beginning of the week they are briefed by the Festival President who reminds them of the words of the song and presumably tells them to look for the "truth in the eye" of each contestant. According to insiders, the judges are not open to influence about who wins.
But, they are well disposed to the festival and its continued success. As one festival watcher put it this week: "The dogs on the street knew the Perth Rose would win last year because Australian roses had been entering for years and had never won. However she was a great choice. It is usually impossible to second guess them."
THERE is lots of "politicking" behind the scenes - but it usually stays there. According to one story Jack Lynch, the then Taoiseach, once requested that a Rose from an EEC country win since Ireland was about to become a member. The organising committee, "a bunch of blueshirts", instead chose the Swiss Rose, Clare Dubendorfer!
It's impossible to pinpoint exactly the massive appeal of the Rose of Tralee. It has been waning a little in recent times but never fear, one of the features of this long-running festival is its adaptability. The organising committee, which is responsible for bringing £14 million into the town each year. has recently seen the writing on the wall, appointed a new chief executive and will next year move the contest out of the Dome and into a permanent site in a new Brandon Hotel facility.
This committee puts on an extravaganza which, like the Eurovision Song Contest, is lodged in the national psyche, looked on with fondness and generally enjoyed. It is a part of what we are. Just ask one of the 250,000 milling around in Tralee this week.