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How will the voting go at Eurovision? You don't need to listen to a note, Tim Moore discovers - just follow Terry Wogan's lead and look at a map…
"An iron curtain has descended across Eurovision," intones Terry Wogan, staring sombrely at a map depicting the East/West rift laid bare in recent years. Well, not that sombrely: this is Wogan,
talking about the Eurovision Song Contest. If Balkan-centric neighbourly voting has made a
mockery of the whole thing, then it's only building on the foundations laid down by our Tel over the years.
The frontier he describes runs from the Arctic to the Adriatic, and it's eight long years since a nation to the west of it won what Terry calls "this magnificent celebration of foolishness". Phone voting and the influx of eastern European nations - Azerbaijan debuts this year - have consigned the contest's old order to the wrong end of the scoreboard, and laid bare a tangled web of cross-border alliances.
"It's understandable that all those new little countries will want to huddle together for warmth," says Wogan, squinting at the cartographic fragments that were once Yugoslavia, "but it doesn't do much for our prospects [he is Irish, but seems to mean the UK]."
After the UK's infamous nul points meltdown in 2003 - blamed by some on a backlash after the invasion of Iraq, but that's to ignore the effect of UK entry Jemini's ear-bleeding vocal apocalypse - the only way was up. But not very far, it seems, as we've done no better than 16th place since.
The tension of the scoring once provided a contrast with the kitsch frivolity of the songs. But these days, anyone with a recent map of central and eastern Europe can make a fair stab at predicting who the excitable chap from Macedonian TV is going to award douze points to, before he's even said, "And lastly…"
It's 37 years since Wogan gently ridiculed his first Eurovision, and he's well aware that
international friendships and rivalries have always been part of the deal. The Nordic brotherhood is a venerable scoreboard-warper: there were loud jeers in 1966 when Sweden's novelty entry about a flute-playing swineherd claimed second place, despite being awarded just one point from non-Scandinavian jurors.
Recent claims suggest Spanish dictator Franco rigged the vote in 1968, robbing Cliff Richard of a win with Congratulations. And it's hard to ignore Luxembourg's embarrassment of kindly minded neighbours when asked to explain the principality's five victories.
Cyprus first competed at the finals in 1981, but it would be 23 years before a Turkish jury awarded the islanders a single point, by which time Greece had lavished 169 upon them. "The cliché is that Eurovision was intended to bring us all together," sighs Wogan, "but instead it makes it manifestly clear how far apart we all are."
For millions of economic migrants since 1998, when phone voting enfranchised the entire European public, Eurovision is a chance to fly their own flags. "I'll be tracking the Polish vote very carefully this year," says Wogan, knowingly.
And there's another important factor: "People in Bosnia and Herzegovina are bound to feel more culturally attuned to the music of Serbia or Montenegro," he says, "than to anything from western Europe."
A more painful truth is that the "new" Eurovision nations do better because they actually take it seriously. "Being in Eurovision is such an important expression of their independence," says Wogan. "They work really hard to choose an entry, and the performers are usually big names in that part of the world." He smiles ruefully. "It may be partly my fault, but over here the whole
business is slightly more haphazard."
He accepts that the UK is unlikely ever to enter in a grimly competitive spirit: "It's much too late for any of us, particularly me, to change our attitude." But for Eurovision's own good, something needs to be done about the voting. Austria has already withdrawn, dismissing the contest as "a political parade ground".
"I'd like to see us return to the jury system," says Wogan, "but the tele-votes bring in too much money. The other option is that we form our own Western bloc, by giving San Marino and Andorra and so on full Nato membership." Though not an entirely serious suggestion, it indicates the strength of Wogan's feelings on the issue.
"Andy Abraham's song [Even If] is the best UK entry for a while: if we finish nowhere again, I worry that disenchantment might take hold. Eurovision is such silly fun, and I love doing it, but if the enthusiasm isn't thereâ¦" He looks at the map, and sighs. "This year is pretty crucial for me. Eurovision without le Royaume-Uni would be unfortunate." But without Wogan? Unthinkable. Go Andy!
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