In about 1996 me and some friends from Billinge Family Church got together on a Saturday night at The Davies’ house. Just an excuse for a get together, nothing more. It started off just a normal Billinge get together, pop and crisps, few beers, tub of boursan and half a dozen people fighting over hacking chunks off a bagette with a blunt knife. The Eurovision Song Contest was also on telly.

Never before have I seen such easy going people get so angry, excited, competitive and stereotypically prejudiced. We laughed LOTS, over the English translations of the foreign songs (“Life is a game of cards and you’re my trump”), over the bad presenter jokes that fell flat, over the random wierd act, over the whole camp-ness of it, but mainly over how worked up my friend Mike Johnson got. We all said we’d do it again.

The year after I commendeered April’s kitchen, invited more people, gave them a country each in a sweepstake, told them to bring food for a Eurovision buffet, bought bunting and flags and we did it all over again and laughed even more.

Every year April and I always laughed and said we’d have to go in real life one day. Nothing came of it til 2011 when I fancied a jaunt abroad in my little red polo before it died a death. Couldn’t decide between visiting my Auntie who lives in Germany or an old work colleague who lives in Allicante. Out of interest I wondered where Eurovision was that year. Dusseldorf, Germany. My decision was made. A visit to Auntie Dorothy and Eurovision it was. And the rest is history!