And here we are at the most glittering, star-avoided awards bash of the year, the Douzepoints Eurovision Song Contest prize-giving ceremony. An arse numbing 18 categories of varying quality are below (truly appropriate for the event itself), and whether you agree or not, just accept that they celebrate the very essence of the Eurosong.
Although it's not the look in her eye, there's something noticeably disconcerting about a earnest lady with a breast to beat.
Vania, two women in one, but with a butter soft voice who can knock her. Only two big lads and a whelelbarrow.

I couldn't help but nominate Laka's sister, Mirela, who you'll probably notice for Bosnia bouncing around with a manic grin on her face. Nut allergy sufferers beware.
Having had more stretch than an industrial rubber band, Charlotte's face can now emote the range of emotion from mild surprise all the way to mild anger.
And the winner is...I missed out on giving a gong to Charlotte in '99, but can truly now express my concern over the visage of Ms Perrelli who seems to have been ironed on high steam every day since her first ESC victory nine years ago.
Full Romanian orchestra on a beach. And grandfather clocks. Either total arse or top pretension? You decide.
A high class prostitute wandering the halls of a five star hotel, looking for love. She won't find love, but she will find something else for sure.
An ice dancing concert to save a dying child, our hero Dima is one of a kind...thank the heavens.
A bespectacled French loon throwing a microphone from scene to scene, examples of which are holding up a shop, and getting put in jail. Crime doesn't pay.
And the winner is...clear victor here for the man of our times, the one and only true superstar Dima Bilan of Russia who saves lives and dances on ice. Truly a marvel of hype over talent.
A warbler from last year is joined by two students to massacre a Latvian novelty record of off the scale atrociousness
This Bulgarian DJ set act is more used to mixing for 100 clubbers than cheesing for 100 million. And it shows.
A street folk act is joined by an ironic 75 year old rapping artist with a gramophone. Manufactured Taiwan style
The andra chansen for Western has-been groups goes to No Angels of Germany, who live up to their name with aplomb. The Arbeistvermittlung beckons.
And the winner is... Pirates of the Sea for pure desperation. Nuff said
An extremely dodgy looking man and his deranged shock-haired sister bounce around, sqweaking an altogether unfathomable song about love. No chicken, allowed at the big show.
A puppet turkey form Ireland called Dustin, shouts an ironic paean to their country's recent failure in the competiton. He's a funny chap. It's a sh#t song.
Azerbaijan open up their account with a warbling angel and a Saw voiceover devil. The angel clearly has lost his bits in a vice, since his voice has gone up 34 octaves. All very unsettling.
Surpassing even Dustin, Rodolfo from Spain has a dog of a track and a certain elan in his performance. Drugged backing dancers have special appeal.
In what is annually the most competitive category, the winner is...Spain for not only the manner in which he won through for the big ticket, but also the naff song, the drunk backing dancers, the toy guitar, the racy lyrics, the quiff, and the all round true awfulness of it all. Charming.
The Irish bookies still have their foam poultry down as strong contenders. They're wrong of course, it's not even the best moulded foam filled competitor of the year.
The holders of the contest are strongly considering another the joy of having to host next year too, but even with the golden girl Jelena, they're sadly mistaken.
Kalomira will be disappointing the legions of fighting Greek fans with her sweet demeanour and stereotypical routine
I thought I'd bung in Charlotte into this category purely because she's a past winner, and the Swedes voted for schlager, and they like a bit of schlager, the Swedes.
And the winner is...has to be Ireland and indeed Dustin, who is consistently amusing in his conviction of success. The Irish peoples believe it, Dustin doesn't really.
"My mulatta dances it holding her pants in her hand". Not really a line for the Spanish family audience you would think.
"I love the Chivers anyway, 'Cause Chivers look divine ". Not I'm reliably informed a typo, Sebastien of France hasn't a particular liking for cheese'n'chive
"Don't make noise with your sandals, Don't pretend to be a lady". Amusing but it's really all the better for the presentation.
Dustin again, this time with "Do you like Irish stew?, Or goulash as it is to you?" Good stuff.
And the winner is...in what is becoming a gong-fest for the turkey, Dustin does the "G O B gobble B L E Yeah"

Ethno instrumentation, mild ululations, repetitive romantic agrarian drivel. It has to be Balkan ballards.
Shouty, aggressive, furrow browed, greasy haired ugliness from the Finns. And that's normally just the Finnish women.
Albania can now lay claim to their own stereotype. A sharp featured gang of ballardeers with low expectations and a smile on their face, just as with Olta.
 Two definitions of Schlager: 1. "sweet, highly sentimental ballads with a simple, catchy melody or light pop tunes", or 2. "Hero by Charlotte Perrelli"
And the winner is...it has to be Sweden and I wish them all the best, cos as stereotypes go, you could do a lot worse.
Whilst the Dutch don't know their Saz from their elbow, it hasn't stopped them from bunging in an obtrusive slice of nothing that couldn't charm an asp out of a basket.
A small island in the Med cracks out a track revolving around ex-Soviet espionage. Some may argue the type of cheap tactic to gain cheap votes. I wouldn't be so cheap.
Quite why a track from the frozen volcanic wastes of the North opens with the smell of the kasbah is baffling, it's out of place as a perm in a hare krishna retreat.
FYROM have come up with an ethnic song, but then do bears sh't in the woods (can you tell I only had three real nominations in this one).
And the winner is...well it has to be the aptly named Euroband from the edges of Europe. Geographical boundaries don't apply to these two schlager mad, blond, face painted, 4x4 enthusiasts. True cross-boundary appeal I'm sure you'll agree.
Germany is booed for (as the Indiana Jones knight said) "choosing poorly". Instead Carolin Fortenbacher had a super ballard, & I don't say that very often.
My Swedish MF song of the year goes into the Arctic with Nordman belting out a Viking/Celtic number of rock foundations. Soft mosh.
The Norwegians meanwhile had a couple of crackers, but "Andagassii" was my fave, but despite the name was in no way a song about the shaven chested tennis arse.
The Belgians actualy had a decent song this year, with Sandrine banging out a Winehouse-lite 1960's throwback called "I feel the same way". Solid stuff
And the winner is...I'm going to give this to Ann Marie Andersen of Norway who didn't even finish in the top 4 of the MGP but entertained me with the banjos. It's likely the public will be shouting "forgive me" to Ann Marie after the contest.
"Laka the singer told me",
"Laka told me personally"
A bit of self-promotion doesn't hurt, especially in ESC, where it's the only chance for these 2-bit acts to get any fame.
" nuna nuna nuna nunu nunu"
Serbia clearly have an affinity for the hoover from Teletubbies. Which is nice.
Is it Kelly Kelly or is it Qele Qele? You decide (well, it's obviously Qele Qele, but you get the idea)

"I see the Chivers anyway
I'll be a Chivers guy some day"
Clearly referring to Martin Chivers, the semi-legendary Spurs striker. Maybe.
And the winner of this token category is...oh, I'll give it to the hosts Serbia. It's the only thing they'll be winning this year.
Another toughie here, but the males have slavered all over Matthew Simon of Denmark, the ladies no doubt have cast an eye over Isis aong others but the overall winner by a chicken's beak is Laka for his slight demeanour and pouty otherness.
I would've given it to Dustin, but he bowed to the Greek pressure to remove Macedonia from the lyrics of his meisterwork. And so in what is a very safe year, the award goes to Sebastien for annoying one of the G8, which speaks for itself.
An unusual victor of this poo encrusted tiara of toilet seat. Ishtar (amusingly titled considering that most foul of cinematic experience) managed to top off a shambolic recent Belgian history in the competiton. For the second time in five years, the lowlanders decided to go with an imaginary language for a song. The first time it was novel, this time it stinks of desperation, Babylonian god of love or no Babylonian god of love.
And for all his obvious faults, the equivalent Best Film Oscar goes to the Frenchman who has impressed me on two counts. Firstly he has been able to annoy his entire nation by singing in the "language of business" and secondly he has come up with a indecently catchy slice of crap pop. Altogether now"bop be bop, bop bop bop, bop be bop, bop bop bop."
Thank you all for coming, and I'll see you next year when I'll be giving out more goody bags of Euro hits to undeserving pub acts enjoying a freebie holiday.