Do you remember that time when Susan off of Neighbours started to believe that she was 16 years old again and she accidentally wandered into a '70s party and then when her memories started coming back one of the first ones was of her husband Karl snogging his secretary?
Or that time when Toadfish got married to Dee and then he took her for a drive and he lost control of their car and drove off a cliff into the sea and he was fine but her body was never found and then he got married again and a gas bottle exploded during the reception and the marquee got destroyed and his bride Sonya ended up with a fractured skull and no memory of the wedding?
Or that time when Pinkie Tuscadero crashed Fonzie's bike and I lost all my money to those card sharps and my dad Tom Bosley had to win it all back? Oh hold on. That was Happy Days. So to speak.
Anyway, to Austri... hold on! Fair go, mate! Fair suck of the sauce bottle! Throw a shrimp on the barbie, ya Ripsnorter! Stone the flamin' crows y' great galah! The EBU have only gone and let Austraaaaalia in again. Strike. Me. Piiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiink!
Back in 2014 for reasons that no-one now remembers, Australia was allowed into that big converted shipyard in Copenhagen on an island (put the Eurovision fans on an Island, they said) to do the interval act, and the fans thought it was FAIIIIIIIIR DINKUM MATE, a mid-tempo empowerment belter loaded up with Eurovision values called "Sea of Flags" coupled with a self-deprecating skit about Kangaroos and stuff. It was more (white, western) European than most of the entries these days, so whilst it may be over 10,000 miles from the EBU's Geneva bunker, having let the Aussies compete proper on a Brexit Barista Euro Visa back in 2015, Jon Ola Sand then gave in to twenty years of lobbying to let the antipdeaons compete every year. Strewth!
Estonian entry that Estonia never send anymore, Courtney Act off of Ru Paul's Drag Race, a song for people that Say! Geronimo, Say! Geronimo, Say! Geronimo, Say! Geronimo and even a man called Mark operatically singing "This Is Not The End", which is ironic given that it in fact, as it turns out, indeed, the end. Of his career.
The winner was Kate Miller-Heidke, a sort of indie-popera singer songwriter who gives off the impression of someone that was sent to posh schools to learn the flute aged five but in her teens got into boys and mushrooms and dresses so big that there's absolutely no way that that will fit in that shoebox of a venue in Tel Aviv.
"I remember I watched Eurovision as a little girl and I thought that is where I want to be" she lies, which is probably the nicest thing anyone's said about Istanbul hosting Eurovision since Wogan described it as "a whole city of bellybuttons and handclapping".
The rules say that if they win the contest, next year could go anywhere in Europe - but given our close ties through sharing Neighbours, Home and Away, the Queen and Mel B judging their X Factor, they're bound to bring it home to Harrogate. And if that's not a reason not to vote for it, I don't know what is.