Time stands still

It might be a perspex double piano but this is not Lady Gaga and Elton John. It's Romania, and they're 'Playing With Fire' apparently. Hope that piano's insured. The two singers look like they should be hosting a daytime talk-show, not belting out a dance ballad in a leather catsuit and bomber jacket combo. That's Eastern Europe for you.

Holy knitwear Batman, it's Russia. Looking like they just rolled out of a trawler net, they're a melancholy bunch and are switching between their native language and English. It's curiously melodic, and is one of the better songs of the evening - even if it makes me want to drink until I forget. Nice falsetto on the lead singer, but that could just be some kickback from the wind machine.

Armenia is represented by a young lady with gargantuan breasts - a smart move given the number of heterosexual men who religiously follow Eurovision. She's got cheap hair extensions, but to be honest, she could shave her head during the key change and nobody would notice. It's not every day you hear a song dedicated to an apricot stone. For which we should all be thankful.

Representing Germany - it's Lena. She's not really singing or dancing - it's like she's invented a new musical form. That's a lovely anchor tattoo on the inside of her bicep - she's officially the world's prettiest Popeye impersonator.

Another pretty lady, this time singing for Portugal. Dull piano ballad. We have a bad case of Evita-arms, like she's trying to read a broadsheet newspaper without smudging her nail varnish. Only two to go, and then Spain will be performing again because their first attempt was interrupted by an unruly audience member.

Our penultimate performance is from Israel, sung by a handsome young man with a very thin head. This is definitely the year of the forgettable ballad. There are a lot of phlegmy sounds, someone should have had a pack of Strepsils in his jacket pocket. Good grief, if you think this is hard to sit through, you should try blogging about it.

Come on Denmark - here's hoping you can end on a high note, and maybe more than about eleven beats-per-minute. This is written by Thomas G:son who is something of a Swedish songwriting legend, so it should be half-decent. The duo singing look like Myleene Klass and Michael Bolton's ghost. It ain't pretty, but it's OK as mid-eighties rock ballads go, like a Berlin b-side.

Well, that's your lot. Hope you enjoyed it as much as I did. Which isn't very much, but what else are you gonna watch on a Saturday night? Ant and Dec? Thanks for sticking with me through that - a problem shared and all that...