Just look at the absolute state of this Austrian entry from 2005. The country that brought us Joseph Haydn, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Ludwig van Beethoven, Franz Schubert and Falco decided to enter a six-piece folk group in tracksuits doing a Latin song about "a girl from Cuba" infused with yodelling.
The chorus "exhorts everyone to dance like the girl would", but the only dancing the sole woman in the group actually does is this bit where she rubs her backside up against a trombonist. Then after they failed to qualify with this aural abscess, their broadcaster pulled out of 2006 and had the brass neck to argue that "talent ... is no longer the determining factor in contest success".
You see, when it comes to Eurovision Austria are useless. Absolutely useless. Marzipan dildo useless. But then came Wurst.
Eurovision 2014 was like we'd fucking time travelled. We were in a weird and wonderful world where everything was different. I was in a disused ship yard thinking maybe outside the Polar icecaps had melted. Maybe there's fucking robots knocking about, and Davina McCall's the new pope. Maybe you can download rice.
Truth is, very few people foresaw Conchita's "Rise Like a Phoenix" doing as well as it did in 2014- not me, not the bookies, not even Dr Eurovision- and it wasn't even until mid way through Conchita's performance at the Thursday night semi that she rose (you know, like a Phoenix) from being a press-bait novelty act to a sure fire favourite- but favourite and then winner she became, this generation's Dana International with a message of tolerance that even caused ultra conservative Belarussian viewers to rank it 4th despite a petition arguing it would unleash a "hotbed of sodomy" on their children.
Since then we've been back to normal, with 2017's entry so bad that to cheer it up someone called "ESC Chloe" on youtube went to the trouble of editing the preview video so that every time their artist sung the word "hey", a foul mouthed Gordon Ramsey insult appeared- all under the subtitle of "You fucking Donkey".
And then in 2018 the world's blandest man with the world's blandest name sang the world's blandest song in the world's blandest way- "Cesar Sampson" sang "Nobody but you" like his life absolutely did not depend on it.
This year? Oh good grief. It's one of those sparse waify waily things (because she's, you know, an artist) but even more frustratingly it's the worst, least accessible, least interesting track on her album.
"I Like the Way You Hate Me" is a "metaphorical one-finger salute to internet trolls". "Love Myself" is a "catchy ode to believing in one's own abilities". "So Loud", "Everything I'm Not" and "Like a Domino" are all pretty good. But "Limits" is terrible. And worse still, it says here that it is a song about "the pressure that society today has on men: you always have to be strong, always in a good mood and always perfect" which on reflection are the three areas where I've been going wrong all these years.
If only they'd send this nightcore version! That would be amazing! She'd be flying round Tel Aviv like Harrison Ford with a big whip in one hand and a skinny latte in the other, whipping six shades of shit out of the opposition to save the world.
It's all a far cry from the Trackshittaz.
You heard me.