The Daily Telegraph: "Armenia should establish Nagorno Karabakh as a separate state"

The latest act in the Yugoslav drama plays out tomorrow when tiny Montenegro votes on independence from Serbia. And while Croatia's tragic schism with the Serbs was provoked by football rivalry, the final nail in the federation's coffin is karaoke.

These old allies, who fought together against Croats, Albanians and Nato, are on the point of rupture over their joint representative at the Eurovision Song Contest, held tonight in Athens. In the Serbian version of A Song For Europe, Montenegrin judges were accused of tactically voting for compatriots No Name ahead of Serbian favourites Flamingoes, leading to uproar from a hostile Belgrade crowd and the terrified Montenegrin boy band being escorted out by security.

With typical Balkan bloody-mindedness, the Serbians withdrew altogether, and neither country got to appear. To add insult to injury, their place was allotted to the best semi-finalist… Croatia.

Controversy has been a staple of Eurovision, established 50 years ago by the European Broadcasting Union in the spirit of fostering European unity. And while the British treat Eurovision as a joke, for Europe's small nations it is their moment in the sun. After wins for Estonia in 2001, Latvia in 2002 and Ukraine in 2004, tomorrow Armenia arrives on the big stage, and nationalist controversy is already rampant. Neighbouring Azerbaijan is none too happy that Armenian entrant Andr? has listed his place of birth as "Republic of Nagorno Karabakh". An Armenian MP has also complained that the song, containing Turkish words, is not "Armenian enough".

But really, instead of trying to absorb Nagorno Karabakh, Armenia's government should establish it as a separate state, thereby creating a voting buddy. That's the way Eurovision works: a Cypriot entry could simply walk on stage and belch, and still be sure of 12 votes from the Greeks.

Various research papers have identified patterns of voting blocs, including the Viking, Slavic and Balkan groups and even an impressive-sounding Spanish-Andorran alliance. Lordi, Finland's entry and the contest's first-ever death-metal band, may not do for all tastes, but they can be confident the Swedes will help out, as they did for most of Finland's previous attempts, including Chirpy Chirp, the mysterious Pump Pump and the bizarre, accordion-led reggae interpretation Reggae OK.

Likewise, seven-times winner Ireland can always rely on a generous score from the UK, almost as if it were a clause in the 1921 Treaty. And Germany often favours its eastern neighbours with guilt points (there probably is a German word for it), while everyone in Europe gives generously to Israel's interesting renditions. (No one is exactly sure why Israel is even in Eurovision, save for the suspicion that it would not do well in a Middle Eastovision, least of all with a trans-sexual diva like Dana International.)

So if Eurovision is all about friends, what about Le Royaume-Uni? As with the Common Market and European Football Championships, Britain failed to enter the first Eurovision, which subsequently developed a French feel. Indeed, we have long suspected that the whole thing is a continental carve-up.

Back in 1988, Scott Fitzgerald was way ahead of his Swiss rival with just two votes to go, but failed to get any reward from the Yugoslav or French panels. The following day on radio phone-ins many callers claimed that communist Yugoslavia had favoured neutral Switzerland over Nato Britain, while no explanation was needed for the French decision.

And with ever greater eastern participation, Britain has declined from annual favourite to third-rate mediocrity, the low point coming in 2003 when Jemini's Cry Baby left the UK pointless, although everyone was too busy focusing on Russian teen lesbians Tatu, who finished third behind a Turkish "oriental-style rap" and a Belgian entry sung in an imaginary language (an good way to settle the Flemish-Walloon conflict).

The Belgians could do this because the restriction on singing in a foreign language, designed to protect national culture but in reality a Canute-style Francophone struggle against Americanisation, was dropped in 1999. It worked: Poland was first to break the Old Europe stranglehold by singing in the language of rock and roll, and came second on its debut.

At the other end of the scale, the Swiss had one of their worst results when they performed a number in the country's tiny Rhaeto Romantic tongue.

In retrospect, the greatest tragedy of Eurovision was that it gave the world the "Swiss" representative Celine Dion. (French-Canadian Dion is not the only foreigner to have triumphed: in 1980 and 1987 Ireland won with Australian Johnny Logan, while Estonia's winner was a West Indian who could not speak a word of the language, and remains the only black singer to ever win Eurovision.)

So how can Britain take back the title? Or - a better question - do we in fact want Daz Sampson's Teenage Life to bring the prize back to Blighty? With the expense involved in hosting Eurovision, winning has become something of a white elephant. In one episode of Father Ted, the Irish judges deliberately choose an abysmal dirge by Craggy Island's finest to lose for Ireland.

This trick was strongly rumoured to have actually happened in 1979, when the Spanish judges gave maximum points to main rivals Israel. So do not fear if we are left without friends in Europe; in the long term it will cost us less.

/www.telegraph.co.uk/