Everyone knows the contest is on, but not everyone knows what their country's entry is - not least in the UK. The lack of knowledge is shown on a BBC quiz show on just before the contest. Fifty people are asked how many letters there are in the name of the country hosting the contest. One woman gets the right answer. One woman out of fifty people. And the six letters that she was thinking of were probably I-R-E-L-A-N-D.

After this impressive display of indifference, and the broadcast of the lottery numbers, as if to reassure those in Stockholm that they will not be the only losers tonight, we're on our way once more. We begin with Wogan saying Willkommen till Svenska, which may have made many viewers in the UK think Ooh, it's nice of Terry to have learnt some of the Swedish language. And he speaks it so well! I guess it would be churlish to say that Willkommen till Svenska means even less than the lyrics to your average Maltese entry, and he really should have said Välkommen till Sverige, but there you go. I realise that we are in for an evening of Wogan's error-filled commentary on the contest. How many more do we have to endure? His chat-show is making a come back to British screens, so maybe he'll stay at home and concentrate on that next year.

Meanwhile, we are shown pictures of Stockholm. Obviously, SVT want to give us a modern presentation, although this is partly offset by a huge pair of lips whispering the names of all the participating countries in a way which can only remind me of Knowing me knowing you by ABBA. But maybe that was the point. The names of all the countries appear on the screen, some with question marks after them. These include Romania? and United Kingdom?, and I wonder if the question marks indicate that these songs don't stand a chance. But I thought that anyway...

Then we see the audience - well sort of, as they're in the dark, and we don't hear them. That's because they're completely silent. I'm wondering if the announcer has forgotten to tell them that the show has started, or if SVT are taking the seventies revival a bit too far by telling the audience to display no enthusiasm whatsoever as was often the case back then.

Somebody appears on the stage. Wogan said she's called Karolin something, but for a few moments I am afraid that Eimear Quinn has come back, and that we are in for another Contest with Celtic overtones. I also fear that we will have to listen to all of the last four winners, and frankly I can't be bothered. Karolin looks like a blonde version of the twins from B*Witched, but is dressed as if she's taking part in a nativity play. She shouts out Welcome You're Up in a northern accent, and everyone starts cheering manically. There's 13 000 people in the audience, far more than usual, and frankly it scares me a little. And much as I dislike the incredibly small venues, I hope that the rumours about the 2001 contest being held in a stadium that can hold 40 000 people are false. The usual flags are about, most notably Sweden, Finland and Cyprus. I can't yet see the Victory for Norway banner, but I'm sure it's there. Personally, if I were at the Contest, I'd hold up a banner too, and it would say something far more inventive and controversial - like I never support my own country.

Prior to the contest, I'd seen some pictures of the stage which had unfortunately made me think those frightening words Munich 1983, but here it looked better. The presenters come on - thankfully just the two this year. Three is indeed a crowd.

And quite nice they are too. Certainly better than the last Swedish pair. Kattis appears to be greeting Europe in Welsh, and not doing a very good job of it. Then Anders turns her file round and reveals that she should actually be saying something in English. Kattis has thus been established as the quirky Scandinavian blonde of whom we Brits tend to be so fond, complete with red outfit à la Britney Spears. Anders, meanwhile, appears to be going for the cheeky but charming approach, although the pink shirt is not charming. Personally, I could never wear a pink shirt in front of one person, and the idea of wearing one in front of the whole world gives me nightmares. Kattis doesn't have her lenses in, and so her lines appear to have been written in the largest script possible, and so there's very little on each page. Anders takes over, and makes the terrible faux-pas of saying the M********* word (no, not Marlain). Kattis, like the rest of us, is clearly fed up with this word, just under two hours before the Irish entry, and snatches the file from him. She then proceeds to speak lots of languages in one sentence, and everyone cheers, although a huge crane appears to be flying over the audience. Perhaps this is the Stefan Raab fan club trying to take members of the audience and plant them in the vicinity of telephones all over Europe. Germany has tried similar tactics in the past.

Kattis and Anders seem better at this multilingual thing than any other presenters I've seen, but they are Swedish, so I'm not really that surprised. Apparently, they don't have an auto-cue (unlike, say Morten and Ingvild in 1996), and they go up in my estimation. I hope that Wogan is currently in his commentator-box, cringing at the fact that he was so much worse in 1998. And is it just me or does Anders's Dutch sound really authentic? Wogan goes on to say Is this a song contest or a presenter contest? He should be grateful that it isn't a presenter contest, as he would have been the first UK representative to get a big fat zero two years back. Now, Anders is reminding us of last year's contest in Jerusalem, and the number of languages used in this one sentence would even impress Ralph Siegel, who will no doubt write a song in every language in the world to represent Germany in the near future. The audience are screaming so loudly that some of them are going to lose their voices by the time we get on to the first song.

Kattis tells us that the programme is being seen by one hundred million people. This somehow seems more realistic than Lill Lindfors's claim in 1985 that 600 million (and one) people were watching that night, but I would like to know the actual figures. Anders pretends to get scared at this point, which can't exactly have a positive effect on the singers throwing up backstage. Then they start asking which nationalities are represented in the audience. I am surpised that there are so many people from La France, and presume that absolutely nobody is watching back home, as the number of French people in the audience is roughly equal to the number of French people who realise that the contest actually still exists. The United Kingdom contingent cheer (although they won't be cheering in three hours), and about ten Spanish people seem to be there. I can't be bothered to listen to them doing this for every single participating country, and thankfully they can't be bothered to carry on either. Anders says Let the show begin; Wogan says I wish he'd said that about ten minutes ago, even though it is only eight minutes into the programme, and even though the 1998 contest took a similar time to get started, and who was co-presenter of that one now?

The first song! Well, not quite, because we've got to wait for the first postcard. And thankfully we don't have to deal with strange interpretations of Bible stories or a million indentical-looking green fields this year. Instead, we're given something more stylish - that's if you regard Stockholm Public Library as stylish, that is.

People cheer for Ping Pong, although there are a few boos as well, probably from Corinna May fans, who are good at complaining and walking out of German national finals. They look, well, strange, but then the blonde one starts singing and you realise that they don't sound brilliant either. At least Danijela and Aisté started the contest singing in tune. I think for a second that Dana International is on backing vocals, but this woman isn't tall enough to be her. The Sameach bit has changed to Be happy, which I gather Ping Pong weren't during the week, what with the views of the Israeli authorities on this entry. As for the song, it sounds like a Dana International reject such as Cinque milla. In the second verse, the girl sounds more in tune and at times the group even look like they know what they're doing.

You probably know that there's a line about cucumbers in the song, but they fail to get this point across to those of us that don't speak Hebrew. However, I have the following question: What is this Israeli obsession with fruit and veg? Dana did that video in which she was riding on a banana, and now this. No doubt next year's Israeli entry will be sung by a porn star and will contain numerous references to melons. Or we'll get five people dressed in white and with ridiculously white teeth singing a patriotic song containing numerous references to Jerusalem artichokes. Then there's the bit about a boyfriend from Damascus, which would sound quite ABBA-like if sung in tune. Oh, and then they wave the Israeli and Syrian flags, which I don't find as controversial as many do - personally, I was more offended by Shiru and Yavoh yom. However, it is now clear that the problems the IBA are supposed to have had in hosting the 1999 contest will not recur until at least 2002.

There's a backstage camera, so you see the Israelis running off and the Dutch team about to run on. Obviously, it's raining somewhere backstage, because Linda Wagenmakers (no, that's not a Dutch car repair firm) is wearing a raincoat. Well, that's what it looks like. Apparently, she's studying law, so she might be able to give some tips to Ping Pong if the rumours about them getting sued are true. On stage, it appears that Linda is wearing a raincoat and a parachute in one - not a style that will catch on. Has she just flown in? Has she remained true to her name by having a car inside her dress? Or is she just seriously obese? I feel that the line We've gotta get off this crazy roundabout is quite ironic, as she certainly looks like a circus performer.

Then the dress comes off, but this gimmick just doesn't seem to work - maybe because Linda doesn't come from Croatia. She can actually sing, thus ending a major debate amongst fans, but the song isn't a winner, especially at this early stage. To my ears it's like a remix of Thane erotas, which already doesn't bode well, much as the fans may like it. The dress she has on underneath seems to be coming apart, as does the clothing of her backing singers/dancers. Judging by their actions, I become certain that Linda has been giving Ping Pong legal advice, and that they have returned the favour by giving her dancers performance tips. Unfortunately, that's a bit like taking singing lessons from Nayah. The male dancers rip their shirts off, at which point I realise that many countries no longer see this as a song contest, given the number of gimmicks we've had so far. After the song has finished, Wogan tells us that the song is second favourite. It is therefore doomed.

But not as doomed as Nicki French. The postcard before the United Kingdom entry reminds us of our nation's preoccupation with football, but is inaccurate as there are no drunks or streakers invading the pitch. However, it does remind us of the fact that we take some international competitions more seriously than others, if you know what I mean. According to Wogan, the song is quite well-regarded, but there's a rule in the UK. If our song is very well-regarded, it will probably end up top ten. If our song is quite well-regarded, it hasn't got a hope in hell. The most entertaining moment of the night is the look on the face of one of those watching the contest with me when I say that Nicki is thirty-five. She has been sensible to leave the bacofoil outfit where it belongs, in her kitchen back home, but looks much older than thirty-five, although I'm not going to complain about that - firstly because it's unfair, secondly because it doesn't really matter (I have suspicions that Charlotte Nilsson was much older than 24), and thirdly because this is the country that sent Katrina, Live Report and Scott Fitzgerald, as well as a number of people like Belle & The Devotions who also looked awful. Another of my theories is that Nicki was actually a member of the aforementioned group, but changed her name after the embarassing experience that was Love Games.

It strikes me that all Nicki needs to do to look younger is to change that hairstyle - make it a bit blonder and grow it, girl! I'm just grateful that she hasn't dyed it red as then she'd look like Rita Sullivan from Coronation Street. A couple of months back, I sent a message to the mailing list saying that I was more worried about the fact that Don't play that song again simply sounds old. I promptly got told off and was told that the song was going to do extremely well. Hmmm... Some people thought that the Brotherhood Of Man-esque choreography would help, but I've never met anyone who actually liked that 'oh look, I've just stepped in dog crap' routine. But I'm going to blame the song, which isn't completely dreadful, but is very much a tired-sounding formula song, even though at this point of the evening that we have a chance. And, let's face it, you're really asking for it if you submit a song called Don't play that song again, aren't you? Afterwards, Wogan says Big hand for the little lady, which he said about Katrina as well. Oh, how I love the variety in his commentaries!

And now to Estonia, the favourite. Backstage, Ines doesn't seem all that scared. Apparently, she's the Estonian answer to Britney Spears, and whilst this is probably good for a bit of publicity, I wouldn't like to be described as the answer to anyone if I were trying to become famous. The song doesn't sound like Britney at all (that'll come soon though), but Ines, like Britney, is absolutely gorgeous, and has a very mature voice. And where Britney had her school uniform, Ines has her cowboy hat. However, she does now look absolutely terrified, poor thing. She seems to be making a conscious effort not to look into the camera, but she is actually smiling much of the time, and the result is a good, if not outstanding, performance of an excellent song, and a radio-friendly one too, although the line Why are you standing still doesn't seem to fit the performance, because her boyfriend's answer would probably be Well you're not exactly darting about either, are you? For the first time, Estonia have upped the tempo, and, again for the first time, I hope that they will win, although being the hot favourite very rarely helps. Her trousers are indeed tight, but I am more alarmed by the fact that the camera adds ten pounds, as this lovely girl looks very thin indeed. Her boyfriend is on backing vocals, and I feel extremely jealous of him. No doubt all the backing vocalists have participated in the Estonian national final before, or will do so in the future. Hopefully, Ines will too. Certainly the best song so far, as it's the least inoffensive, without an overly insistent beat. It also sounds more like ABBA than the UK's entry, and I mean that in a good way - in the same way that I thought Selma was more ABBA-esque than Charlotte last year.

The French entry is also inoffensive. But it isn't always the inoffensive songs that get the high scores, and the reputation of the contest would be quite different if they did. The postcard involves a night-club in Stockholm, apparently because French dance music is popular there. So why don't the French send a dance song to Eurovision? It's like when the 1998 postcards contained the backing tracks to trendy Cool Britannia-type songs, yet our actual entry was pretty much a remix of Unbreak my heart by Toni Braxton. The singer for France is called Sofia Mestari. Apparently, Mestari is Finnish for winner, but when were the words Finnish and winner ever associated in this contest? Last year, the backing track for Je veux donner ma voix was far better than the version we heard in the national final/preview video, and so I have similar expectations this year. However, I am disappointed to find that the backing to On aura le ciel sounds exactly like it did before. There are several reasons while this song will fail. On aura le ciel is a very nice song - after a few listens. Sofia sings very well, but doesn't do those vocal acrobatics that seem to go down well with people these days. The lyrics are very sweet - but they're in French, and not that many people in Europe actually speak French. And, finally, the song follows Estonia, the hot favourite. Pity, really, as this is the sort of song that would do much better with juries. It is a good song, but not for the contest. Oh, and a quick message to the French: Il faut que vous envoyiez Lââm l'année prochaine. Je vous en prie! Mind you, On aura le ciel entered the French chart at 65 following the contest, which probably means it has sold more copies than the last few French entries combined.

The postcard before the next entry reminds me strongly of Papa Pingouin in 1980; thankfully, the song does not. If On aura le ciel suggests that you need to sing in English in order to be appreciated, The moon - the entry from Romania - would suggest otherwise. Many countries have shown that singing in English does help, and that it makes your song more accessible. Not so when you are a member of Taxi. The lead singer is apparently the same the same age as Nicki French, but sings a bit like a twelve-year old. In fact, he sounds like Ned Flanders from The Simpsons. Except he's yodelling, and some of the musicians seem to be playing a different song, especially a guitar player who goes mad just for the hell of it. Oh joy. I spent a couple of weeks working in an orphanage in Romania last summer, and had such a good time that I made up my mind to support the Romanian entry whatever it was, but this is proving difficult. Apparently, Luna has only been released in a rock version in Romania. If only they'd sung that version instead - you can actually hear kettles clicking all over Europe during this song. Oh, and everyone is convinced that this will come last. Which is why it won't. How different things could have been if Romania had ignored rules like other countries have often done in the past and sent Step back by Paula Seling. It would have suffered from being half-way between Ines and Alsou, but would probably have received a score somewhere between the two. And would any country complain about a result like that? And, by the way, I HATE pan-pipes!!! (No matter how gorgeous the person playing them is...)

Anders and Kattis appear again - he appears to have had a bit to drink since we last saw him. Kattis reminds us which countries aren't watching the contest this year - does she realise that she's basically saying OK, several countries in Europe care about the contest even less than the ones that take part? It looks like we will have to wait if we want to hear anything from Bulgaria and the Czech Republic. Also true for Italy and the Vatican, but that doesn't bother me as I'm not sure that I want to hear an entry based around a Gregorian chant. It would sound so dated - like something from the 1996 contest. Or, more likely, they'd send Corinna May. However, people are watching in some Middle Eastern countries (gone are the days when the Israeli entry was replaced by a pot of flowers), and six million people are watching over the Internet. God, imagine trying to figure out what's going on on the scoreboard with a tiny video screen and a 28.8 modem.

And now we're off to Malta. Apparently, Claudette Pace owns her own TV-station in Malta, but this isn't the station that picks Malta's entries, and so she's sleeping with the enemy, so to speak. Plus, she's got Swedish backing-vocalists - the same ones who were dressed in white coats last year backing Charlotte Nilsson, although one of them appears to have morphed into Marika Krook. Alarmingly, this is the most Latino-inspired song in this year's contest. Claudette clearly thinks she's a Diva (no, I don't mean that she's a transsexual) and has the voice (although she at times sounds a bit like Heather Small) and the movements (although the dress doesn't help) - but she needs a big ballad. Plus, some of the backing group seem to think they're singing lead, although not so much so as En dag in 1989. Some people (including the good Catherine) have compared this song to something from The Little Mermaid, others have said that it sounds like some singer from the 1950s whose name I can't remember, but to me the verses are quite like Corinna May's Hör den Kindern einfach zu. (Christ, I've mentioned the woman three times now and she isn't even taking part.) It does however strike me that you can make out every word Claudette says (apart from the bit in Maltese, obviously), which shows that Maltese entries have progressed over the past few years. And if you don't like this song, imagine how much worse it would have sounded if sung by Times Three. (OK, sung by two of them and mimed by the other.)

Girl-groups have never been all that successful in the contest. You can look gorgeous, you can sing well, you can give a good all-round performance and you can have a good song. But, as tonight proves, it seems that you cannot have all four. Charmed try hard for Norway, and in fact they score about 75% in all four categories. Looks: Not hideous, but a bit scary and not blonde enough. They should have gone for the All Saints look (well, the three white ones, as it would be hard for any of these three to dress up as Shaznay in a politically correct fashion), but have gone for the B*Witched look instead. Except there are only three of them. And they've taken inspiration from Marge Simpson for their hair. Thankfully, they haven't taken inspiration from Macy Gray's, I'm sorry, Marge Simpson's voice - My voice goes croak, anyone? In fact, they sing extremely well for a girl-group.

The performance? Lively, but it looks as if SVT, still angry with the Norwegians for winning in 1995, have put devices underneath the stage so as to give the girls constant electric shocks, making their hair go mad and making them dance hyperactively. And why do there seem to be Romanian flags in the background? Are the stage crew running behind schedule? And finally (ironic, considering that this is supposed to be a song contest) what about the song? It sounds a bit like S Club 7, but just seems a little repetitive. And what exactly does I lost my mind and popsicle mean? Is it a literal translation of a Norwegian proverb? Or does it have a similar meaning to the whole cucumber business from Israel? I think we should be told. All in all, much better than most Norwegian 'efforts', but doesn't seem like a winner for some reason, although it could have won in most of the past few contests. However, I've heard that they're delighted with their final score, and, given that they were hot favourites before the contest, I really have to admire them for this.

And then it's the British entry. Sorry, it must be the Russian entry, as we're being shown a postcard of preparations for the Chekhov play Three Sisters, although judging by the looks of the sisters, I suspect that at least one of them was a brother beforehand. If anyone had told me ten years ago that Russia would participate in the ESC singing in English, I'd have laughed in their face. (Actually, I'd probably have asked them what the ESC was, given that I was only eight at the time, but you know what I mean.) A few days before the contest, Britney Spears scored a number one in the UK with Oops! I recorded it again. And so Solo can be said to be the song which best reflects the chart music of the time. Alsou goes to school in London, but hasn't stolen Britney's idea of singing in school uniform. However, the lyrics of the opening verse have much in common with Britney's Born to make you happy. I get the feeling that the lyricists have taken the first verse of the latter song, translated it into French via Babelfish, and translated it back again, the result being the 'new' lyrics.

However, the song isn't too much like Britney, and, yes, Alsou is gorgeous (kind of like a 16-year old Courteney Cox Arquette), although it's a bit disconcerting that I'm now frequently seeing people younger than myself taking part in the contest. I spend some time wondering if she's going to do the Croatian strip, but she doesn't bother and just stares seductively at the camera. The dancers dance for Billie Piper, and the backing singers have been on Top of the Pops more times than Jo Whiley, Jayne Middlemiss and Gail Porter combined, and so Russia is getting dangerously close to providing a reserve British entry which is actually far superior to our own. Of course, Luxembourg did the same thing for many countries for forty-odd years, but Russia is the entrant with the largest population, which would make this all a bit strange were it not for the fact that they presumably just want to win.

And it's nice to know that someone does. Belgium, not used to having three entries in a row in recent years, doesn't seem too bothered. It has been seen that Nathalie Sorce has a typical Belgian voice (i.e. one which occasionally goes off the rails), a typical Belgian song (i.e. pleasant enough, but anonymous), and a typical Belgian dress (i.e. a fashion statement). Like Linda, Nathalie is currently at university. Good thing she didn't jack it all in in the hope of becoming an ESC winner. And as if to remind La Belgique of better times, all the female backing singers are dressed up as Mélanie Cohl. In the national final, the backing singers were placed around Nathalie and displayed considerable enthusiasm. Unfortunately, someone must have phoned the whole Belgian team on April 1st and told them that Envie de vivre was strong enough to win without this presentation. I had thought that the chorus should in fact go L'envie d'apprendre, d'apprendre à chanter, as I feared that Nathalie's vocal performance was going to be the equivalent of a very turbulent plane journey. Plus, anyone who saw last year's contest will know that French-speaking women singing tenth can be remembered for all the wrong reasons. However, she starts off quite well, and you can see from her face that even she's surprised, and it's at that point that things go downhill. But the problem is that the song is in fact two songs - a pretty good gospel one, with large elements of a bad version of Dis oui. The two do not go together, and not even an indirect mention of the M********* can help. However, there is hope when Wogan says that the song could score zero - this makes it clear to me that it will get at least one vote from somewhere in Eastern Europe.

The Belgian backing vocalists look more enthusiastic backstage than they did on it. The Cypriot team are waiting to go on, holding up I love you mum signs which I find quite cute. Of course, if their song was written by Ralph Siegel, they'd have held the signs throughout their performance and they would have read I love you Israel, Netherlands, UK, etc. I was almost surprised when I found out that Cyprus were taking part this year after the unfortunate Marlain-incident in Jerusalem. But they're back, albeit without the obligatory twelve points from Greece. Although that might not help them much this year. They appear to be waving Cypriot flags on stage, albeit without yellow and green ink, with the result that they're just plain white flags. In a bid to get twelve points from Italy, Alex (in a skirt) starts off singing in Italian. Does he realise that RAI don't participate anymore? Christina, or Davinia McCallopoulou to give her her real name, sticks with the Greek.

The song might be kind of interesting if you're open-minded about music, but strange if you're not. And which of these two categories do most of the viewers belong to? For as long as Cyprus send overly complex songs, they will not score well. The only country in Europe in which this sort of song could be really popular is Turkey, and they're not exactly going to vote for it, are they? I can imagine many people thinking that this is just a huge racket and the worst song of the night, but it isn't really. Apparently, Wogan is next to the Cypriot commentator, who he says is a big woman. Does he perhaps have her confused with the Maltese commentator?

And as if to convey the diversity of Europe, we're off from Cyprus to Iceland. This year, they're represented by Einar Somebody'ssón and Telma What's-his-name'sdóttir. The commentators must be having fun now. Thankfully, the song has a somewhat simpler title - Tell me! And doesn't the horse in the postcard video look a bit like the ginger one from E.N.I.? A couple of weeks before the contest, I suggested that this song would benefit from a Britpop presentation. Unfortunately, my wise words were seemingly never read by Einar and Telma. He comes on looking like a hungover version of Sigga, who hasn't changed out of the skirt he was wearing the night before, with more tattooes than Cher. Meanwhile, Telma has not taken advantage of her resemblance to Nina Persson from the Cardigans (one of the women who gives Sweden a good name), and just looks, well, Eurovisiony. Mind you, I guess that's appropriate for the occasion, although I would much rather see her wearing leather. Pretty damn sexy voice though, but she really should pout instead of smiling.

There are four rather indifferent-looking backing vocalists behind them (who've probably done this before, given Iceland's small population), when we could really do with some blonde women playing guitars. The result? The song sounds like a million other Eurosongs to me, even though it never did before - I used to think it sounded a lot like the theme tune to the Samantha Janus comedy Game On. The chances of victory now seem slim, which is a bit disappointing, although it would admittedly have been unfair for them to do better than Selma did last year. And another thing - does anyone agree that most Icelandic entrants seem to be blessed with bags of confidence?

But who cares? We've got more pressing matters to deal with. Well, sort of, because it's now time for the Spanish entry. Remember how I mentioned Oops! I did it again? Well, this song could apply to Spain. This year, they held a national final for the first time since 1976 in order to prevent being represented by a boring ballad. The potential result? Alcanzarás la luna by Alazán. The actual result? Serafín Zubiri singing a remix of Vuelve conmigo, with all that was interesting about that song taken out - the tune, the tempestuous style, the drama and the hysterical vocals. A bit like Nocturne without a violin, really. However, we can be grateful that Serafín isn't wearing Anabel Conde's dress. Or Lydia's.

And he does give the song his best shot, although it's hard to make something out of a song in which the verse and the chorus don't go together at all (the verse is much better, by the way). If Serafín gets to enter again, I hope it's with a good song. Mind you, the people who choose the Spanish entries each year appear a bit masochistic, don't they? You'd hardly think that Hispanic pop was all the rage at the moment when watching this, would you? But at least Serafín doesn't promote the fact that he's blind as much as some countries would, although it really would be the only way for this song to do well. I hear that Nina, she who should have won in 1989 with Nacida para amar, is currently a virtual unknown in Spain. Surely this gives her the perfect excuse to enter next year? Just look at who's singing for the United Kingdom.

Or even Denmark. The Olsen Brothers had their first hit in 1972, and have participated in various Danish national finals. It can't have been encouraging for them being beaten by songs like Boom boom and Tænker altid på dig, and they quite freely admitted that they entered the Dansk Melodi Grand Prix because their career was somewhat less impressive than it had been earlier. But before the song starts, I am taken aback by the block of flats shown in the postcard, as it looks remarkably similar to an estate a few blocks away from my house which was in such a state that it appeared on BBC current affairs programme Panorama and was knocked down. There will inevitably be comparisons between Fly on the wings of love and Rock 'n' roll kids, but this number is far more acceptable. If ABBA reformed without Agnetha and Anni-Frid, they'd probably look and sound a bit like this, although they'd probably go under the unfortunate name of B&B. The audience like this a lot - a lot. The result is that Jørgen - or Niels laughs after the first chorus. Maybe he thinks the song's complete crap and can't believe that the audience don't agree.

It's nice to see the enthusiasm in the audience, but the camera spends a lot of time on this and not on the poor old backing singers who seem to be trying a very well-practised routine, yet they are totally ignored. And then there's that thing which both Cher and Alana Dante used to make their voice sound like a computer. Strangely, Alana Dante was nearly disqualified from last year's Belgian final for using one, but the Olsens are allowed to have one. Hopefully a Marija Magdalena-style scandal will be avoided. This song has been ignored by the fans for months, but seems to have gone down extremely well in Stockholm. Even the cameraman seems a bit excited, as the picture goes a bit wobbly for a second afterwards.

The huge reaction for Denmark makes things a little harder for Germany. They're not helped by the fact that all the fans seem to hate this song (I don't, by the way), and that Wadde hadde dudde da has already left the German charts. Another problem is that the Knackwurst sausage in the postcard is going to make some people focus on the Israeli entry again rather than on the German one. In the meantime, they've obviously gone shopping with Ines and bought cowboy hats. Stefan Raab has been taking inspiration from the darkest days of 1970s Eurovision. He's abducted Frida and Agnetha from ABBA and put them in a time machine to make them twenty years younger (which perhaps explains why they weren't singing with Björn and Benny for Denmark. Mind you, it would be bloody awkward for them to reform, what with the divorces and all that). But worse, it seems as if he is in fact the twin brother of Anne Karine Strøm (see earlier on). Flares, sunglasses and everything. When he starts singing, he throws his cowbody hat off - not the best copy of the Danijela routine.

The song is either in a very strange Southern German dialect, or more likely in baby language, and whilst this isn't going to help me attain fluency in German, it makes more sense than many an English language entry. There is an English language bit though - it goes I am so curious, I just wanna know what you there have, which is obviously meant to be wrong, but some people around Europe won't realise that. Dea of I wanna to fly fame, for example. No doubt Stefan will soon get into contact with Antoine de Caunes. But there's another strip - the two ABBA clones, who really can't sing by the way, and so fit in with the rest of the act, add to the madness. It's ridiculous, but not as ridiculous and hilarious as Guildo Horn - and therefore it's not going to win. Mind you, the bit where all the lights go out, and Stefan's outfit is still lit up is very impressive. To think that five years ago the best gimmick Germany could give us was Cheyenne Stone hiccuping.

Lately, Switzerland are also good at getting laughed at. Sadly, this is unintentional. Jane Bogaert was Miss Playboy Switzerland back in the days when thirteen year-old girls were winning the contest and not getting pregnant in Coronation Street, and when Doris Dragovic was representing what is now a number of countries. The biggest miracle of this year's contest is that the shots of her (which were never published at the time) have not made an appearance in the German tabloid Bild, à la Gunvor. Mind you, I'm quite glad, as she probably had one of those hideous haircuts like Céline's old one. But back to the song, La vita cos'è. I like it, but it's completely clear that it doesn't have a hope in hell (i.e. not even in the aforementioned 1986 contest). Jane, covered up now, can actually sing quite well. Al Bano, who has Jane as his singing partner now he's divorced Romina Power, is on backing vocals. For some reason I can't quite place, I found him annoying in 1976 and 1985, but he stays at the back here. Nice song, nice voice, etc. So what's the problem? I can tell you - it's the hand movements in the chorus.

Jane's first language is German rather than Italian, and that might be the case for the backing singers, apart from Al of course. So maybe they think they're singing La Y.M.C.A. rather than La vita cos'è. Notably, Al does not join in, either because he understands the lyrics or because he's actually about thirty years older than he claims to be and can't move about much anymore. In the second verse Jane sounds a bit like Michael Jackson at times, which is a bit inappropriate given that one of the Great Plastic One's records has been removed in Italy because one of the songs was allegedly nicked from an Italian song written by - Al Bano! And there's another problem which occurs to me - to many people who don't speak Italian, the last minute is basically an ex-porn star screaming.

Looking backstage, and you can see a dead chicken. No, wait, it's one of the Swedish team. Obviously they're getting fed up with all these ballads and novelty songs and just want to get their performance over and done with. But then you see the Croatians, who are indeed to sing next. Croatia could have chosen several crackers this year - Daj mi daj and Hrvatska rapsodija in particular. But many were dismayed that they selected Ostani, as it was then called. I was just grateful that they didn't choose the pidgen English of Dea or Kao rijeka by Vanna, who blatantly didn't want to win. But I like Ostani, even though I have to get used to calling it Kada zaspu andeli now. Goran Karan looks a bit like Annie Cotton the morning after a drinking binge, or like a girl who was too ugly to get into E.N.I. during auditions. Wogan claims that Goran is the biggest pop star in Croatia - but don't HRT appear to say that about all their entrants?

The song could admittedly be from 1965, but doesn't sound too dated. It looks as if Goran has brought his pet dog, who is large and black, to Stockholm. I start wondering what the quarantine laws are in Sweden, until I realise that the object is merely someone in a bag, who will presumably come out at the end of the song (out of the bag, that is). By the second chorus, the mystery person is breakdancing, and then tries to start flying, but fails because he/she can't see anything. Then she appears, and - oh my God - what is this girl's name? She's absolutely gorgeous! Why didn't she take the outfit off earlier? Why doesn't she keep on stripping? Please let her come back next year! Isn't Croatia wonderful? And then I calm down, as I realise that, like all singers, dancers etc., she's probably about five foot one even though she looks so tall. Croatia can do no wrong in this contest.

The impatient Swedish team can go on now. In his bizarre outfit, Roger Pontare is probably what most people expected Dana International to look like in 1998. The crowd sound supportive enough, don't they? The song begins with strange yodelling, and everyone looks as if they're celebrating the Chinese New Year a few months too late. There's some demented man holding a stick, the dead chicken I mentioned earlier, and an angry looking Asian woman. As for Roger, he's had his hair done in an Anni-Frid style and then cut most of it off. Plus, he's been reading the same magazine as Einar from Iceland - a magazine which came with a free pack of temporary tattooes. It all looks a bit like a more powerful version of Samiid ædnan, and you can tell that this is going to be one of the most memorable songs of the contest for most people watching. It also contrasts well to the two ballads we've just heard.

Seriously though, all that sets this number apart from Take me to your heaven is that it's sung by a man with a deep voice, it has slightly more meaningful lyrics, and the stage show is completely over the top. In fact, it reminds me of Oot voimani mun from the Finnish final! On the other hand, you couldn't find a song more removed from Roger's 1994 effort with Marie Bergman, could you? But then there's another distinction between Spirits and Take me to your heaven. In the bit after the second chorus, when Charlotte got confused and started singing I wish it could be Christmas every day, there's more yodelling. Somehow, I like the song a lot more than I did on first hearing, although I think that that the fire must have violated a few health and safety laws.

As may the singing from the next country, the Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia. Remember Frizzle Sizzle, who sang for the Netherlands in 1986? They proved that the eighties Euro-girl-group should look like a bunch of extras from Grange Hill. Eleven years later, E.N.I. proved that the nineties Euro-girl-group should look like a bunch of extras from Home and Away. Now it's 2000, and the Euro-girl-group of the new m********* is due to look like a bunch of extras from Hollyoaks. And although 100% te ljubam is one of my pre-contest faves, I don't want it to get points from every country as I don't think that I can tolerate that ridiculously long country name being read out sixty plus times. But XXL are not used to still being awake at this time of night, and so are probably a bit nervous. And my God it shows. They start off quite well when they're singing together, even though the head movements owe more than a little to Mamma mia. For a few seconds, I think things will go well. But only for a few seconds. The girls are destined to fail in one of the categories I mentioned up above when talking about Norway, and it's obvious which one. The blonde one, as the first one to sing solo, is the first to mess up, but she's gorgeous, so I'll forgive her. The other three just make matters worse.

It is a well-known fact that 99% of the viewers of the Contest are tone-deaf, but even they must be aware that this is going to go down as one of the most painful vocal performances in recent years. It already sounds like they're singing a different song. The two girls on backing vocals, in spite of their unsightly blue overalls, try to get them back in tune, but it's too late. The worst thing is that everything else is fine - their costumes could be much worse, they dance OK, and they look nice, even if someone I know compares one of them to Freddie Mercury. But, worst of all, the song is actually really good when sung in tune, and now I fear it will get a big fat zero, and I don't think I could bear that. However, I accept that much of Europe is in hysterics even before they start singing in very foreign-sounding accents - I laav yoo ouan haandrurd pursent yess aee doo. Somehow I think We're singing one hundred percent out of tune would be more appropriate. But even that doesn't hurt as much as the final note - on the recorded version, their final note is the same as that on the backing track; here, it is most certainly not.

As if to give us time to recuperate, Kattis and Anders come back. Anders claims that he always cries when someone receives a prize, especially if it's a woman. Judging by some of the recent songs and performances, his tears may not be particularly numerous tonight. Then we see the trophy, about which I don't have any particularly strong opinions. The winning composers win a trophy with a big tick on it - perhaps they've made twenty-three trophies with crosses on them for all the losing composers.

Like the next bunch, because they're from Finland, who should really be called Rutland as far as this contest is concerned. I mean, Nina Åström is so sure that she's going to be put on the next flight back to Cuckooland, or whatever her home town is called, that she hasn't even taken her coat off. I expect her suitcase is somewhere on stage as well. The first line is annoying, as she tries to pronounce every word separately. Her facial expressions are exaggerated, as if she's talking to a baby or presenting Playdays. It doesn't help that her backing group all look as if they'd rather be singing something with a bit of life in it. I sit through the song only for the moments when that gorgeous blonde woman on backing vocals appears.

In a move inspired by Somewhere in Europe, she sings It may be Finland, France or Spain, Berlin, Prague or Rome. Maybe these are her predictions for the venue for next year's contest, in ascending order of likelihood. Judging from what we've heard tonight, we are more likely to be in Prague or Rome next year than Helsinki, Paris or Madrid. And Nina can be added to the long list of candidates this year who clearly think that Italy is still taking part in the contest. To be honest, A little bit isn't that bad, but there's no ooh and no aah. Some people have said that is sounds like This time I mean it, but that didn't exactly get eighth position completely on the merits of the song, did it? Maybe next time, Finland will select the right song in their national final (Oot voimani mun and Viha ja rakkaus were the obvious choices this year, if you ask me), but why break the habit of a lifetime?

The postcard before the next song shows us that there are many Swedish men who are more than happy to look like one of the blokes from ABBA. And now from a little bit of love to a lead singer who looks as if he's been taking a little bit of something a bit stronger - Reynard from Brainstorm, the first ever entrants from Latvia. Apparently, Brainstorm have heard of the contest, but never actually seen it. And it shows, in comparison with many of the boom-boom-boom entrants from Northern Europe in recent years who seem not only to have watched the contest, but also engaged the use of a computer to create as stereotypical a Eurosong as possible. As this lot haven't done this, My Star comes across as original, which says a lot about the narrowness of the contest, as it's really just a Britpop song. And how many people are there in Latvia with good Latvian-sounding names like Reynard Cowper?

Whilst certain entrants (Goedenavond, Linda!) have gone over the top on their outfits, Brainstorm have gone for the charity-shop style which was so in in the UK back in the days of grunge. But don't complain, because Katrina's shirt cost her four pounds, and she didn't do too badly out of the contest, albeit for about three weeks. As I said, the song is somewhat refreshing and interesting, and not at all hindered by following Finland. Given a less lively performance, this could have been a case of Mindnumb, but it turns out not to be. I am equally fascinated by the resemblance between Reynard and one of the girls in the aforementioned Hollyoaks. It also strikes me that he looks a bit like Ines Santos. And even if you don't like the song, you have to admit that this is one of the more inspiring Eastern European debut entries in the contest. Compare it to neighbouring Silvi and Ovidius...

Latvia has got a very good reception, which makes things harder for one of my favourite songs, the Turkish entry. However, I should be grateful that that man in the postcard with the exceptionally big nose isn't singing for them. Pinar has saved linguistically-challenged commentators a lot of trouble by dropping her surname, and many people are probably of the opinion that she's cashing in on the ABBA revival by naming her group the S.O.S. Mind you, I'm not sure how I'd take to hearing Take me to your heaven in Turkish. Wogan is rude enough to talk over the intro, but as I learnt not to pay any attention to him about seven years ago, I am concentrating on what's going on on stage. Pinar is wearing a bit more than either Sebnem or Tugba, and is joined by three men whom the camera tends to ignore as well as two dancers whose moves actually fit the song, a rare occurence in this contest.

Half-way through, Pinar sings in English for a while, and proves to us that not all multilingual songs which include Turkish have to sound cheesy and contrived, and also helps to reduce the number of countries that have not yet taken advantage of the free language rule to a very small number indeed. It's a good thing that they didn't try this last year, as Dön artik had some rather odd lyrics - a song containing the line I, with a torch in my ear cannot be for the good of the contest. The song is supposedly influenced by the likes of Ricky Martin, but other than the use of two languages and some of the dance moves, I can't see the resemblance. It's more like a mixture of both Sebnem's entries - i.e. a more uptempo version of Besinci mevsim, or a slower version of Dinle - take your pick. And, as a final point, the song does give Wogan his chance to talk about a whiff of the souk - which he mentions at least once every year, and which is probably written into his contract.

From I'm weary to I'm boring. I have convinced myself that M********* of love is going to win, so that I will not feel too depressed if it does. Some of the winners in the mid-1990s proved to me that depression is not a good thing. Even by looking at the haircuts on the backstage camera, you can tell that lots of people are going to hate this song with a vengeance. Eamonn Toal looks a bit like Kathy or Kim or whatever she's called from Emmerdale. Others are going to comment on how ironic it is that the Irish Eurovision representatives are celebrating the M********* four and a half months after everyone else (apart from the Swiss, that is, but there's little hope for them given that they've spent the past twenty - no, sorry, ten - years in the 1980s). Perhaps Ireland think that it's a good idea to continue the Let's pretend to care even though we only want glory for ourselves theme tried so often, not least by Israel, Germany and, in the earlier part of the last decade, the United Kingdom. Perhaps they're trying to enter the Guinness Book of Records for Most cliches used in one song, although they've thankfully not taken up the Croatian cliché of stripping. Or perhaps the Irish are just so damn sick of the contest, their opinion of it being based on their own entries, that they don't care anymore and just voted for Millennium of love in the national final because it was the first song, and would save them having to listen to the other seven.

The worst things are that the song is well produced and well sung, and that contrived peace anthems have done well in the contest before, especially when sung second last (just think back three years...) The fact that this could win makes me wish the Mullans were singing for Ireland again. The backing vocalists are even doing that bloody Liora-style dance routine! All that's missing is for the guy on piano to stand up and join in à la Daniela Simons. Let wisdom be the guiding light is one of the many sententious lines in the song. I hope wisdom will be the guiding light for all those voting tonight... And another question - was Eamonn that woman who sang backing vocals for Emma in 1990 and clearly thought she should be singing lead?

One left. And no, it's not Martine McCutcheon, even though one of them looks a bit like her. It's the Rounder Girls for Austria. And, given the current Haider-debate, it's clever of them to put in a group including two black women. I'm also glad that they haven't mentioned this situation in the postcard. I have high hopes for this, especially as I have put an each-way bet on it at 25-1 at William Hill. Then they start singing. A big disappointment. The performance isn't bad or anything, but, like the song, it's inspired by 60s Motown music - i.e. the singers don't move about too much, as this wasn't the done thing in the days of black and white television. They smile and everything, but I am instantly sure that I have just wasted ten pounds. The harmonies are good, but they're not prominent enough. I'd always regarded this as a superior version of My heart goes boom, but it's obvious that this is going to score less than Norway. Plus, they are actually doing quite a bit of movement now, but the fact that their dresses are so long seems to conceal that.

The problem with being the last song is that many people just want to get on with the voting and have already chosen what they're going to vote for. Look at 1998, for example. For many, Tüzmen and Vlado Janevski may as well have been the interval act, and Vlado, in spite of all the supposed advantages of singing last, got less phone-votes than any other entrant in the U.K. The audience seems to be impatient too, as they're incredibly static. The most movement comes from the silhouettes of people dancing behind the Rounders. Big reception at the end, but you can't quite tell whether that's for Austria or for all twenty-four entrants. Somehow I think it's the latter.

Guess who come on to the stage now? Yes, surprise, surprise, it's Kattis and Anders. They pretend they're leaving, but the believability of this joke is reduced by the fact that they're walking backwards. Personally, I hope they keep on walking and knock over the entire stage, which would be a rather more advanced version of the Lill Lindfors trick from 1985. They remind us that it's not possible to vote for your own country - in these days of occasionally slack immigration laws, I beg to differ. It's time for the reprise, during which a few more thoughts occur to me:

• When Anders starts 'singing' be happy, he actually sounds more musical than Ping Pong.
• Christina Argyri looks a lot like Alex Panayi did in 1995. Perhaps I've had them the wrong way round all this time, and Christina is in fact a punky-looking woman who should shave her arms.
• Céline Dion once had the same hairstyle as Jane Bogeart does now. Obviously, Switzerland does not choose singers on their musical merits, but rather on the 'Celine-Dion-lookalike' quota. Is the Swiss national final entitled Céline Dion in their eyes?
• That beautiful Croatian girl deserves to be covered in a bag less than any other performer.
• Thank god Spirits are calling my name wasn't Sweden's entry in 1991. Toto and Gigliola would probably have accidentally burnt the hall down, what with all that fire.
• They've carefully chosen a part of 100% te ljubam which vaguely sounds like it's in tune.
• Is there something wrong with Nina Åström's right hand? And does she have to point when she sings about Sweden. I'm sure the audience know which country they're in.
• And yes, I will certainly never see that ten pounds again.

Afterwards, it's the voting, and you surely know what happened. And it's all over for another year. Thank goodness! As much fun as it is, it's all quite exhausting. Plus, these reviews take a bloody long time to write, believe it or not. I'll now be the first to predict that we're going to hear the words Something is rotten in the state of Denmark several times next year from people who think they're amusing, and if you want to see my predictions for next year's entries, you can read them here soon, but not quite yet...