The 63rd Eurovision Song Contest and Israel deservedly celebrate win.

The 63rd Eurovision Song Contest and Israel deservedly celebrate win.

Last night the Eurovision Song Contest broke with all tradition. It did something entirely different. No, the cynics might sniff, it wasn't even remotely boring and you did feel as though something exciting did happen because whenever people talk about this most noble of traditions their eyes invariably mist over. But there does seems a grudging acceptance of the facts. It's a rocking and rolling, foot tapping boogie woogie. finger clicking, musical journey into the unknown. And nobody can deny that. Or can they?

Eurovision may have become something of a yearly karaoke contest according to some but it still retains both the charm and gently inoffensive sense of fun it's always had. And there can be nothing wrong with that. Every year the cream of Europe's singing talent converge on some highly charged European city rather like an eagerly fired up group of tourists who know that if they follow the person with the white handkerchief they're bound to get a cappuccino and biscuit sooner or later.

So what was it about the 63rd Eurovision Song Contest that didn't conform to the original plan. For a start there was a bizarre flag waving ceremony where all the participants came out onto the stage, smiling and waving at the audience and hoping that their aunties, uncles and cousins were watching at roughly the same time. For a while the whole albeit brief ceremony didn't quite seem to belong in this now fantastic and fabled song contest. But on they went and then the nationalities all trudged back stage to watch events unfold.

In the cool capital of Portugal, laid back Lisbon held its very first Eurovision Song Contest and for three fizzing, scintillating and captivating hours the rest of Europe was just starry eyed, gripped and spellbound. This was no ordinary Eurovision Song Contest. There were stage invaders grabbing hold of the microphone when the United Kingdom's Suri began her three minute stint and a Hungarian heavy metal group who were both crazy, zany, bonkers and slightly irrational in their thinking. But then where would we be without a bonkers act in the Eurovision Song Contest? The whole show would have been immeasurably poorer without its spot of daftness.

But then we settled down last night and availed ourselves of a cultural spectacle that somehow defies description. Then again to refer to the Eurovision Song Contest as a cultural spectacle may be a complete exaggeration and perhaps inaccurate. Shall we say then that it was watchably acceptable if only just. You must have known what you were going to get with this yearly homage to the sublime and ridiculous, the potty and ingenious as well as the enchanting and life affirming.

Act one then saw our friends from Ukraine, a country with little in the way of songwriting expertise let alone flair or pedigree in the competition. We would not  be disappointed because this was truly awful and instantly forgettable. A gentleman who may want to forget that he was anywhere near a song contest, rose from a black coffin surrounded by flickering flames of fire. Not the best of starts it has to be said but it may be unwise to elaborate on both the song and the reasons why our man from Ukraine chose to be so sombre, morbid and downright mysterious.

Next up Spain, a country that does like a good bullfight and a drop of sangria when  they come home from a hard day. Onto the stage stepped a sugary, sweet and saccharine boy and girl who looked as they'd just stepped out of the pages of a conventional Mills and Boon book. Jason Donovan and Kylie Minogue they quite clearly weren't. But they did tug on the proverbial heart strings, whispering sweet nothings into each other's ears quite tenderly before walking up to each other, stretching their hands out and then walking romantically into the sunset. It was all very worthy and well intentioned but love was quite clearly not in the air for the listening judges in the rest of Europe. Sorry Spain. Come back next year.

Slovenia were now the centre of attention and for the first time in the contest you began to feel as if you needn't have bothered to watch this huge confection of candy floss pop. The song was just one loud, thumping, pounding cacophony that should have been reserved for some other song contest. It was one of those modern electro and techno club songs whose only accompaniment was a series of flashing red lights and nothing of any real substance apart from that.

Calling Lithuania. Lithuania it was your turn. Now this song came as the most unexpected of surprises. A girl from Lithuania, suddenly appeared on a softly lit stage with nothing but her personality and a profound message from the heart. The song was endearingly called 'When We're Old' , a tune that did what it said on the tin. It was a lovely, slushy, sentimental, sad, nostalgically reflective, meditative, touching and heartfelt ballad that must have induced floods of tears from the audience, a lullaby for the folks of Lisbon.

And then there was Austria. Austria gave us plenty of upbeat, tantalising techno beats, a dance number with plenty of oomph and pizazz. The singer reminded you of a cross between Craig David and John Legend which is probably an enormous compliment to our man from Austria. There was something very soulful, positive, catchy and agreeable about this song but not one that would have unduly troubled the demanding Euro judges. It was well phrased and presented but not a winner.

Estonia of course are one of those many emerging Eurovision candidates who, at the moment, are just learning the ropes and finding out more about the exacting requirements for Eurovision victory. Now another girl tip toed onto the stage with twinkling eyes and a voice from the highest of mountains. Our girl from Estonia launched into the most rousingly operatic voice you're ever likely to hear, a soaring, floaty, dreamy and angelic number that reminded you of that first bird of spring. It was both soothing, calming and deeply relaxing to the soul but would never look like winning the contest.

Now, straight from the glaciers and fjords came Norway, a country where natural daylight remains one of the world's most spectacular sights at roughly 11.00 at night. In another display of what could be considered muddling mediocrity Norway came up dreadfully short. After the colourful pyrotechnics of Austria the Norwegians presented us with something similar but did redeem themselves with a cheerful, happy-go- lucky, vibrant song called 'That's How You Write a Song' that was both catchy and full of the joys of the season. The lead singer reminded you of a Leo Sayer with braces and that was as good as it got.

It was time for the host country to make their case for the defence. Portugal had exceeded all expectations by winning last year's Eurovision Song Contest but this time couldn't match the excellence of last year's entry. A woman with pink hair sidled up to the microphone, grinned very meaningfully for the cameras but then seemed to lose the plot completely. It was almost as if an attack of stage fright had afflicted her at the wrong moment. It was by far the slowest, dreariest and most ineffectual tune on the night. By the end of the song, you almost felt sorry for our brave Portuguese representative who must have known that the writing was indelibly etched on the wall.

Ladies and Gentleman let me now bring you this year's entry from the United Kingdom. For the last 21 years the UK have seemingly shuffled off the European map in a downward spiral to nowhere. Katrina and the Waves classic 'Love Shine Like a Light' is almost a faint memory. Sadly once again the United Kingdom struggled down in the basement and against a background of petty politics and, quite possibly, a personal vendetta, the UK, now on the verge of EU withdrawal, found themselves in some isolated dark room where nobody likes you any more and nobody will ever do business with you again. So there.

The Eurovision Song Contest used to be about farcically amateurish songs and fun moments where the judges lose contact with the hosts presenters and everybody panics. But Britain has well and truly put their foot in it and they'll never be spoken to or associated with. You'll just have to go it alone and whenever Eurovision crops up every year you'll have to forget about ever winning it again because you don't deserve it and that's final.

Serbia came onto the stage with what looked like a tribe of drummers whose only offering seemed to be some confusing, haunting and strangely Gothic number where not a great deal of any musical import seemed to come out of their mouths. It was a crash, bang, wallop mess of a song with no structure or technique. There was plenty of techno modernism but nothing to get even remotely excited about apart perhaps from the ending of the song which, it has to be admitted, came as a pleasant relief to the impartial outsider. Never mind Serbia you've still got another opportunity one day.

For Germany this was a time for sniffing into your handkerchief, crying into your German beer and becoming deeply emotional. Now when was the last time the Germans ever became emotional although they do know how to pose and posture when things go right. But those Germans keep on and doing it thoroughly.

A ginger haired gentleman walked sheepishly into the centre of the evening's attention. A song called 'You Let Me Walk Alone' was singularly devoted to the singer's late father, a tearful song all about loss, grief and fond memories of a much loved parent. This was a song packed with gentle sincerity, the most affectionate delivery and the most heart rending message.

Albania represented one of the few low points of the evening. Here was a shouty, bellowing, incoherent song that did very little to lift the audience to its feet. 'Mall' was performed by a bearded rock guitarist with a high pitched voice and another set of drums. Perhaps the less said about Albanians the better. This should have been my cue to put the kettle on.

France have always performed quite impressively in most Eurovision contest without achieving the necessary consistency to earn any long term praise. France gave us a husband and wife team with a straightforwardly outspoken political protest song. Dressed all in black they crooned into each other's face and spent most of the act circling each other and then doing their utmost to avoid dizziness.

If somebody had suggested that Czech Republic would one day grace a Eurovision Song Contest 40 or 50 years ago they would probably have been mocked and dismissed as pie in the sky dreamers. But here they were with a jazzy, trumpet blowing number that may have been excessively corny but remained on the right side of bright, bubbly, buoyant and cheeky. Another set of braces came bounding on to perform for the delectation of the Portuguese public.

Denmark were never ever likely to win anybody's hearts in front of a vast Lisbon audience. It was all very wind swept and dramatic but some of us would have much preferred one of the nation's mouth watering pastries to a song that was allegedly about 'A Higher Ground' but may well just have been lodged in some very deep underground tunnel.

This was the point when the Eurovision Song Contest seemed to lose possession of its senses. A couple of years ago some bright spark came out with one of the quirkiest ideas the show had ever thought of. Let's see what happens when we ask some random country from not only another continent but as far from Europe as you could possibly get. What about Australia they thought.You really couldn't have made it up. 'We've Got Love was moderately good with its uplifting disco beat but didn't really do enough to persuade a European jury who probably hadn't a clue why Australia were there in the first place.

Finland and Bulgaria gave us Eurovision at its most eccentric, unusual, two totally indescribable and unfathomable songs that were neither here nor there. By now we were beginning to run out of off beat European countries with weird agendas. Neither song was either tuneful, melodic or lingered long in the memory for even a minute or two.

Moldova took us back to a typical English holiday camp with their rendition of the Butlins red coat entertainers favourite. 'My Lucky Day' looked as if it had been scribbled down hastily on a British beach and then transferred to a higher plane of TV celebrity. The song was genuinely entertaining but then fell flat on its face when it suddenly occurred to us that this was a song written with teenagers in mind.

Sweden, who have always had a soft spot with Eurovision aficionados after Abba's exploits in 1974, were full of groovy, funky disco 1970s optimism, fizzing and sparking with energy, snap and crackle, a number that had vitality in its veins and one that Abba would have been proud to have written. 'Dance You Off' was so lively and joyful that you were tempted to dig out your platform shoes and flared trousers.

Then there was the aforementioned Hungary who were so disastrously bad that you had to blink twice in case you'd imagined it. Long haired heavy metal rock blasted out of the speakers, a sound that was both aggressive, abrasive, no-nonsense and completely off the scale landing very awkwardly in my ears but then what do I know about music? With fierce red and yellow flames surrounding our friends from Hungary comparisons could have been made to Metallica and Iron Maiden but then that would have been grossly unfair.

Holland, somewhat inappropriately, went all country and western with just a hint of middle of the road thrown in for good measure. It was hard to believe that the nation that gave us bicycles, canals and windmills now resorted to men playing twangy guitars from Memphis Tennessee. You half expected Kenny Rogers to join in with the festivities.

With Eurovision now reaching its climax it was time for an Irish ballad and that's always worth its weight in gold. Ireland have been notable absentees in recent Eurovision contests. Now 'Together' was a simple, warmly soothing, pretty and comforting ballad straight from the heart. Admittedly you were just overwhelmed with the song's lyrical beauty but didn't think for a minute that it would actually win the contest.

Cyprus had always developed for a reputation for delivering sentimental folk songs with balalaikas and men with white smocks, songs that might have been more pleasing on the ear in the local restaurant with just a small plate of olives but not in Eurovision. This year was a breakthrough for Cyprus. For most of the evening a provocative lady with a revealing dress sent most of the males pulses racing. It was a fast paced disco number and it could have been Shakira in disguise.

Last but not least Italy bounced onto view, two passionately committed men, wholeheartedly expressing feelings about the world, Italy and its political leaders. It was all very helter skelter, frantic and frenetic and didn't really convey the true meaning of the Eurovision Song Contest even though it looked presentable at times.

After what seemed an interminable nail biting, teeth clenching interim period and some of the most absurd scoring in recent Eurovision history one country emerged as the richly deserved winner. A girl called Netta from Israel offered an amazingly convincing impersonation of the Icelandic chanteuse Bjork. Netta's hair looked as if it had adopted a life form of its own. Her song 'Toy' was indeed a celebration of femininity, a strong and vigorous number that was boomingly memorable and a glorious triumph. It was song designed to register with all women and bursting at the seams with a positive statement about their role in society.

So it was that Israel were declared winners of the 2018 Eurovision Song Contest and for those of us who will always believe in Israel this was an affirmation about everything that is good in Israel and always will be. Next year indeed we will gather in Jerusalem and we will celebrate not only its identity and independence but recognise just how much has been achieved in 70 years. Let's hear it for Israel.