Miles to go before we sleep

In a splendid all-white display, here's a bunch of dancers who seem to be accompanying their dad on stage to represent Greece. Somebody needs to act his age and have a nice sit down. I'm sure there's a song in here somewhere, but it just sounds like a lot of erratic beats and Kevin Costner's pudgy brother shouting Opa! a lot.

Quick, go put on the kettle - it's Britain's turn. The song sucks like Gillian Taylforth - ironically entitled 'That Sounds Good To Me' (i.e. it doesn't). Josh is singing pretty well, but the backing singers couldn't carry a tune in a rucksack. They're screeching like freshly-neutered cats on an uncomfortable fence. The last note just breeched the Geneva Convention.

Another ballad. Hurrah. We're already on song 13 - isn't this just flying by? Here's a pretty lady from Georgia accompanied by two more shirtless men in white suits and very heavy guy-liner. This feels like the kind of performance that an over-earnest 14-year old drama student might choreograph, in between bouts of poetry-writing and self-harming. Speaking of which, where's that razor?

Turkey takes to the stage next, with an act that is successful outside of Turkey. That's how Dima Bilan managed to romp to victory a couple of years ago, despite having the worst song of all time. The singer is wearing an odd outfit - he looks like a pilgrim in fetish gear. Oooh, an angle grinder.

You know, you'd never guess that last year's winner was a violinist, given how many string instruments we've seen on stage this year. It's like when Bucks Fizz won in 1981 - for years after the Eurovision was like amateur strip search, with more ripped skirts than a footballer's hotel room. Albania have got a thumping dance number and some big hair. On the scale of awfulness, it's pretty low, therefore this viewer has a new favourite. Unfortunately these are kinds of songs that fall down the back of the sofa when people reach for the phone to cast their vote.

Iceland should do well, the gays have been loving their song for months now. It's like we're back in 1995. Where's that Corona CD? Hera Björk is wearing a big red dress that makes her look like a huge, damp lampshade. Huge key change, arms raised aloft, and a waft of poppers across the auditorium. the audience seemed to enjoy that - could this see a turnaround in the world's perception of Iceland?

There aren't too many people who can carry off a black hood, flesh-coloured dress and boots that look like they're made out of Lego. And Ukranian singer Alyosha isn't one of them. If you put Shakira, Fergie and Kelly Clarkson in a bag and gave them a good shake, you might get something a bit like this song. Or a bag full of sick. Same difference.

This is odd. French songs are usually as much fun as watching the intermission act, but this is chirpy dance pop. There aren't really any words, just a lot of booty shaking and jumping around. Someone's shirt came off but I missed it because of my dedication to the blog. Take note.

Iceland hates snow

With her money-making opportunities continuing to dwindle, Kerry Katona must be kicking herself with a turkey drummer tonight, as it emerges that Iceland has finally said 'enough is enough' and dropped her as its official spokesmess.

This latest disappointment comes off the back of News Of The World's shocking revelations about Kerry's continued drug use, and I'm not referring to her bi-polar medication. It emerged this weekend that Kerry's appetite for kebabs and £1 pizzas is rivaled only by her appetite for cocaine. She was filmed in her bathroom snorting a big fat line, as her kids were playing downstairs with the nanny.

As a result, Iceland has decided to cut its losses and ditch the drug-addled dosser from its depressing ad campaign. In a statement, the frozen-food pushing supermarket chain said "We have always stood by her, as an example of a normal person and mum who has experienced some of the modern day culture of fame, and how difficult it can be to deal with. However, following the most recent allegations, we feel it is impossible for Kerry to continue to work with us as one of the faces of Iceland advertising."

Somehow, Kerry has finally managed to piss off her employers, after years of trying to prove what an unsuitable role model she was for anyone with a functioning brainstem. The alcohol abuse, the rehab, the plastic surgery and the marriage to a man who made Kevin Federline look like a catch, were all excusable indiscretions. But this was clearly a snort too far for the powers that be at Iceland's head office.

So what will Kerry do now? Having just put on two stones in weight purely so she could sell the story to the glossy magazines, Warrington's finest is clearly running out of ideas, and unwilling to help herself. According to friends who don't know the first thing about inappropriately chosen words, Kerry is convinced "that this will all blow over."

But this is nothing new, since even Kerry's own mother has expressed concern (in exchange for payment) that her daughter's self-esteem is non-existent. Criticising her no-good son-in-law, Sue Katona said "He [Mark] told her he was just messing about, but anyone with half a brain can see that if those girls were up for sleeping with him, he would have done it." Sadly, it seems that when it comes to her daughter, Sue isn't particularly good with fractions.