Hello. Yes, it’s been a while, hasn’t it? But the arrival of May heralds the Coming of the Contest and Twitter just isn’t up to the task of telling all I have to tell about this year’s Eurovision.

My pre-show pontificating is divided into three posts: one for each semi-final (of which, you will correctly surmise, there are two) and one for the final. On your behalf, I’ve endured all of this year’s songs and compiled some brief thoughts. I’ve linked the country name to the song’s video on the official Eurovision YouTube channel to make it as easy as possible for you to agree with me (or disagree, if you’re crazy).

As has been the case for a few years now, the large number of participating countries means we’re treated to semi-finals in order to whittle the songs down to a barely manageable final. Fear not: the UK’s financial contribution to the competition means we never have to go through the indignity of being knocked out in the first round. We’ll be voting for the songs in second semi-final, so we’ll only get to cast formal judgement on these if they make it through to the big event, which is being held in Azerbaijan on Saturday 26th May. In some cases, I really hope we’re spared.

So, without further ado, let’s take a look at the countries who’ve been drawn in the first semi-final.

The Good

The ones I liked and hope to see get through to the next stage, in alphabetical order:

• Greece have a strong track record of memorable, up tempo Eurovision entries and this is very much in that vein. It’s almost Eurovision by numbers – pick a one word title (in this case the suitably exotic sounding Aphrodisiac) and contrive a song around it – with the musical production updated for 2012. I’m not complaining: this is surely one for the final and it’s the only one of the entrants to lodge itself unbidden inside my head.
• Next up is Maureen Lipman‘s favourite Eurovision country: Hungary. This one keeps just on the right side of über earnest and I really like the musical production (though how that will translate on the night is anyone’s guess). The last Hungary song I liked was Dance With Me in 2009 and that sank without a trace, so I’m hoping for better luck this time.
• Iceland will hope to put European prejudices against ash clouds and defaulting banks behind them, and with Never Forget they may. I rather like the video, with its Icelandic scenescape, but more importantly I like the song. I’m a sucker for atmospheric strings, syncopated percussion and a male-female counterpoint – even if there is a touch of Evanescence to it. Since they then add a sudden silence (which I hope survives in the live version) and a key change, I’d put this straight through to the final. (You may remember Jónsi’s cheekbones from such Eurovisions as 2004, where he performed 19th-placed power ballad Heaven.)
• Ireland – I’d never heard Jedward sing before last year’s contest, having not seen whichever talent show from which they emerged, and this year they’re back for a second helping of Eurovision. Waterline feels like it’s fallen off a Stock, Aitken and Waterman landfill of leftover pop songs, but that’s by no means a bad thing. It could do well – although I wouldn’t be surprised if the twins’ live performance falls short of the recorded version, which could impact on their chances. Either way, it needs to accompany a training montage in a 1980s action film as soon as possible.
• Moldova – It’s cheesy as sin – worse, it’s cheesy as actual cheese – but it’s one of many songs in this first semi-final with a winning cheerfulness that keeps the whole thing bouncing along quite happily. A nice instrumental in the middle and a ska jazz feel make it a keeper.
• Romania – Bagpipes, drums and accordion are all part of Zaleilah‘s charm. I suspect the lyrics mean nothing of note but this is a bit of light fun and begs to be served with rum.

The Bad

There’s a disappointing dearth of truly terrible entries this year – I don’t know what the other countries think they’re playing at – but there are certainly some songs I’d like to see taken down the knacker’s yard and put out of our misery. For example…

• Austria – Yes, they are genuinely using the band name Trackshittaz. To their credit, it’s an appropriate name, because, to their deficit and excuse mon français, the track is utterly shit. Awful, shouty rubbish. Still, sung in German, “Woki mit deim Popo” sounds rude, so at least that’s entertaining.
• Denmark – I’ve often loved overlooked Danish entries (and pastries, for that matter), and now that we all love The Killing and Borgen, could it be Denmark’s year? No, no it won’t. Soluna Samay is so middle of the road, her only chance of creating excitement is if she trips over the cat’s eyes. Tiresome.
• Latvia – Oh cripes: it’s a Eurovision song about recording a song for Eurovision, and its winning no fans here with the lyric “I was born in distant 1980”. A Eurovision fan friend asked me a few weeks ago whether singer Anmary was in on the joke. I really hope so. Yes, it’s catchy, but so’s smallpox. If the lyrics were in foreign, this might be passable – as it is, it’s hideous and deserves to be burned. Right now.
• Russia – The Eurovision gays won’t be in any hurry for Russia to host the contest again so this dreadful chorus line of singing grannies could be perfect news, if only we didn’t have to listen to it. That said, it does run the major risk of picking up a shedload of “ironic” votes from across the continent. The dancing is only marginally more co-ordinated than Pan’s People, the singing is less tuneful than Jemini and the song itself is dire, so anything could happen.
• San Marino – “Do you wanna be more than just a friend? Do you wanna play cybersex again? If you wanna come to my house then click me with your mouse.” Those lyrics alone tell you all you need to know about the horror that is The Social Network Song. Someone’s noticed that the internet’s a thing and decided to write a sub-Whigfield pun-laden Eurovision entry about it – and then autotuned it to death. And the social networks have spoken: its YouTube Dislikes are outnumbering its Likes by more than three to one. “Oh oh – uh – oh oh” indeed.

The Ugly

Some songs defy categorisation, and they’re the ones I’ve included in this category:

• Sometimes Israel give us a stonking pop song; sometimes it’s a terribly worthy ballad about how good it would be if everyone just got along; and sometimes it’s just bizarre. This time it’s a kitch number that sounds like it’s fallen through time from one of those 1970s Top of the Pops they show on BBC Four to save them making new programmes. It’s too jolly to actively dislike but Slade were never my scene and I don’t like Star Wars. (I do like Star Wars.)
• Montenegro will open the show with Euro Neuro and we start as we might hope to go on: bonkers. It’s a strange fusion of folk instruments, funky beat and monotonous rapping, like an Eastern European Cake, and there is clear evidence the lyricist got drunk and made a series of ill-advised bets with a rhyming dictionary. For all that, the chorus is memorable (for the duration of the song).

The Rest

The remaining songs were neither particularly good, nor particularly bad. The word “meh” is frowned upon, so we’ll just call them “the rest”:

• Albania – I spent two of this song’s three minutes waiting for it to start. It eventually did (complete with some epic shrieking), but that’s not making the best use of the allocated stage time. The video’s worth a look: a woman with her legs in a box; two children drawing chalk lines on a wall; a weird bird mask; a tealight on a record player. I’m not saying Rona Nishliu doesn’t have good hair – I’ve got nothing against the hair – but I am saying this song could be better. On the other hand, it also could be worse.
• Belgium – When the drums came in a third of the way through, I was hoping this was going to turn into a big number. Instead, it just carried on as before but with drums. Sorry, Iris: this may still be better than most of whatever the kidz listen to today, but you’re no Sergio & The Ladies.
• Cyprus – Here comes the Eurodance. That’s pretty much all you need to know, and being the only track from that oeuvre in the semi, it should corner the market. It’s not bad, although nothing special for the genre – it would play quite happily in a club in Ibiza or Gran Canaria or Frinton or wherever it is one goes to take E and dance topless these days. As the title La La Love suggests, there are a lot of la la la la las – and then it abruptly stops because its three minutes are up. NB: the video appears to feature Catherine Zeta Jones being chased by Tracy Scoggins in a funny hat.
• Finland – Interestingly, this is sung in Swedish. (Look, it’s interesting to me. So Suomi.) I don’t understand a word but I’m sure it’s very poetic. The song has a pleasant, gentle melody and Anna Friel did an OK job singing it, but I can’t see it sparking a riot at Our Price or overloading the phone voting lines.
• Switzerland – Sinplus, the first rock band in this year’s contest, offer a less than subtle “follow your dreams” message. Unbreakable isn’t breaking any new ground – who is it I’m reminded of? Snow Patrol? The Pigeon Detectives? – but it fills three minutes without complaint and as the only guitar band in this semi-final, they stand a good chance of getting through. Of course, when it comes to the voting, I expect Switzerland to give everybody two points.

That’s not a bad line-up, I’d say, so expect a watchable semi-final on Tuesday 22nd May. Were we phone voting for this programme, I’d be calling up to vote for Iceland and Hungary.

Next time: eighteen more countries battle it out for ten coveted final places in Semi-Final 2. Stay tuned!

It’s the end. But the moment has been prepared for. Because I have a spreadsheet and a calendar.

It was our final show and my last chance to catch other people’s. I reluctantly wrote off the chance to see an assortment of stand-ups I’d meant to get to (sorry), managing to squeeze in three shows before The Last Night in Edinburgh. And that, as you can imagine, was going to be a Big One. I have had to buy in an extra consignment of Capital Letters.

I made my first ever trip to The Counting House to see The Choob, a crazy character comedy show set on the London Underground, before heading off to do the final Three Man Roast. That went swimmingly, aided by another pot of tea, and, inspired by a talkative audience, I enjoyed going off piste during my compèring section and the final section of my set. It was my version of bringing in games for the end of term.

Sadly, I had to sneak off the end of the show in order to make it down to The Tron to see Tom Bell Begins. Tommy and the Weeks tangentially (and inadvertently) helped to get me into stand-up so I grabbed the opportunity to see Tom’s show.

Not long into it, my laugh got me into trouble again. Tom dropped the Q-bomb – “quantum-locked” – and I made the mistake of laughing before he had the chance to explain the Doctor Who reference. I had exposed myself. My reward was to play a game of grandmother’s footsteps and, having won that, to be portrayed by Jennifer Aniston – so all’s well that ends well.

The last thing I went to see at the Fringe was only my second play of the month. I’d meant to see far more theatre but never quite got round to choosing any. The first one I saw was, you’ll recall, atrocious. Despite my concern about the description of A Hero of Our Time as an adaptation of an overlooked Russian novel, I rather enjoyed it.

You may wonder why I would choose such a play, given my apprehensiveness. It’s Doctor Who again. Sorry. I follow Peter Wicks off of twitter because he’s a fanboy and he had tweeted about the play, what with being in it, so I thought I’d go along. I’m glad I did, not least because he was awesome in it (as rightly commended by the NSDF).

Dinner was a delicious Chinese with my frequent Edinburgh companions Niki and PBR. I then met PBR’s friend Tim (from Found Objects) and casually mentioned Doctor Who. Within 15 minutes, we were discussing Ian Chesterton and Barbara Wright’s sex life. I took this to indicate he is a fan.

And then I was in the Dome chatting to Peter off of The Russian Play, who I’d not met before, about Doctor Who and cult TV. This is my life, people.

I had planned to have a Big Night Out. It was Friday and I fancied marking the end of the Fringe in style. But actually I had a bit of a cold, was quite tired and needed to be up in the morning, so at the horrendously early hour of 2am, I went home to bed.

Not with a bang, but with a whimper.

What I learnt today: Let’s face it: Doctor Who is the glue that binds the world together.

The end of last week was rather busy so it’s taken me until now to write about Thursday. Oops.

After the horror of yesterday’s croaky show, I determined to do everything I could to make my voice function. I spent much of the morning gargling salt water, which certainly helped, but the best solution, it turned out, was tea.

I had soup for lunch and when I told the man in the sandwich shop that it was for my voice, he suggested lemon and ginger tea. I fell immediately for his cunning point of sale marketing and went away with two cups of liquid.

The tea worked a charm and my voice, while still a bit croaky, became much more serviceable. The pub we were performing in served hot drinks too so just before the show I got them to make me a pot of tea with a slice of lemon. Milk is not good for the vocal chords so, for the first time in my life, I drank it without. I even took the cup on stage with me, leaving the audience in no doubt that I was the spiritual successor to Bill Hicks.

It was a brilliant show. We were full to capacity and the audience went with every single joke from all three of us. It wasn’t just a relief after yesterday; it was the best gig of the run.

I celebrated with a trip to see Holly Walsh’s The Hollycopter. I’d been meaning to go for weeks and with her nomination for best newcomer in the Edinburgh Comedy Awards, I made sure I snapped up a ticket before they sold out. A very enjoyable show, it was also the second I saw that week to feature Guildford. True fact.

Social butterfly that I am, I happened upon the So You Think You’re Funny party in the evening. It was full of bright young things and initially full of free booze. Not so much by the time I left for the last Comedy Countdown of the Fringe.

With Danny Pensive back in dictionary corner, the theme tune used for the clock and Blink‘s Ray Peacock playing the game, the show was full of Doctor Who references – which is just how I like it (and, indeed, anything). I am not a natural heckler and rarely shout out anything, let alone “Sontarans”, but time makes fools of all of us.

I’m told that after I worked out the last numbers game, my bouncing in my chair could be felt at least two seats along. The combination of a TV quiz, a letters game answer of KALEDS and a few free Mojitos had perhaps left me a little over-excited. I ended up shouting the solution across the room so croakily that the brilliant host Dan Atkinson promised me free Strepsils for life as a prize.

I made it to four Comedy Countdowns in the end and they were definitely one of the highlights of the Fringe.

After that, I retired to Brooke’s and ended up talking about cult TV until the early hours. Tom Neenan from the old GOL sidled sheepishly across the room and with mock obsequiousness asked me to sign his copy of the new Doctor Who Magazine. I borrowed it and had a quick flick through, as my copy was awaiting me in London, but when I returned it the poor man insisted he was serious, having “always wanted to get someone’s autograph in Brooke’s”. He slinked away the proud owner of the only autograph I have ever given, my name scrawled across a photograph of me with Haemovore hands.

The Edinburgh Fringe is a strange place.

What I learnt today: Tea is a panacea.

In retrospect, screeching Dexy’s Midnight Runners on stage without even a pair of denim dungarees for protection was a big mistake. My already struggling voice, which had begun to show signs of recovery, was shredded. And I had a show to do.

There are three comedians in Three Man Roast. We have cunningly concealed a clue to this fact in the name. Yesterday, two of them did very well. The other one of them, having managed to screw his larynx, struggled through his set trying with only some success to get punchlines out without his voice cracking over the most crucial syllables. In hindsight, I like to think the relative quiet from the audience was generosity: they didn’t want to drown out my quiet lines with laughter. That was kind of them.

One audience member did come up to me afterwards and say she enjoyed my set which is always lovely to here but was particularly appreciated after straining through it.

I did innovate two responses to my impairment. I lip-synced to a recording of part of my set, which elicited bafflement more than anything else, but, for the record, my lip-syncing was very technically accomplished. Alex suggested it may have been too accomplished and the audience thought I was just talking. Dan suggested I had become my own Blackpool drag act.

The second innovation was a cracking joke about Robert Redford that frankly didn’t get the recognition it deserved.

It’s fair to say I was a bit dejected, but I was cheered up by a cuppa, some vitamin pills and stumbling across Ronnie Corbett and Paul Daniels within five minutes of each other. Go, Edinburgh.

And while I thought I had a bad gig, I shouldn’t be complacent as I still had a better gig than the guy whose show I went to see in the evening. He had one audience member turn up: me. So he took me to the pub, which was nice, and we pretended it was a one-to-one immersive theatre experience.

The third and final Karaoke Circus of the run was another joyous occasion. In the bar afterwards, I met half of the Beta Males and was able to tell them how much I enjoyed their show. I may have had a few drinks and added a lot of people on Facebook on the way home.

What I learnt today: The iPhone’s Facebook app needs a breathalyser built in. Or maybe a logic test that you need to be sober to beat, like the one in GMail. The same goes for Twitter.

Recommended show: I haven’t seen it but I have been recommended M. Croser – Unpleasant Man by people of taste, so that’s today’s.

Obligatory plug: I’m in Three Man Roast (★★★★ – whatsonstage.com), 2.35pm weekdays at Finnegan’s Wake on Victoria Street – free entry.