Before we get down to the profiles, we’ve got some real, actual Eurovision news for you.

We’re going to be liveblogging Eurovision again this year. Yes, we know we missed it last year, but thanks to a pioneering technological breakthrough – we bought a laptop – we’ll be spending the evening of Saturday May 16 giving you a second-by-second commentary on the Eurovision Song Contest. At least until we deliberately drink ourselves into unconsciousness, anyway. Be there. If you want.

That said, here’s the Eurovision 2009 rundown for Marko Kon and Milan Nikoli? from Serbia and Kamil Mikul?ík and Nela Pocisková from Slovakia…

Serbia · Marko Kon and Milan Nikoli?, Cipela

Two things strike us about Serbia’s Eurovision entry this year. First, their song translates as ‘Shoe’ – the first shoe-based Eurovision entry since that Croatia entered that woman with the sex tape a few years ago. Do Marko Kon or Milan Nikoli? have a sex tape? No. And that’s why their song isn’t as good. And secondly, what the hell is this? A man with an afro and the voice of the devil rapping about shoes to the sound of an accordion? Who could possibly ever think that’s a good idea? And the woman who walks on midway through, strokes the afro-devil’s face, wiggles around like a prostitute and walks off again? No, actually in retrospect that’s a stroke of genius. Anything to take our mind off what an appalling song this is.

Slovakia · Kamil Mikul?ík and Nela Pocisková, Le? tmou

Slovakia hasn’t entered the Eurovision Song Contest for a few years. This might be because of several intricate financial and social conditions in the country, but we prefer to think that Slovakia was the only country in Europe with any self-esteem. But whatever, Slovakia are back again now, and judging by their Eurovision entry Let’ Tmou, it’s because they think that Europe has got a little bit too cheery for their liking lately. Because, christ, it’s depressing. We’re talking French levels of depression here. Let’ Tmou’s video is all half-burnt candles and anguished cello playing, and that’s about as far into it as we want to get. That’s pretty much because if we tried to translate even some of the lyrics we’d probably end up hanging ourselves from a light fitting or stabbing ourselves in the face as a reaction to the futility of it all.

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