So much does the Irish public enjoy the Eurovision Song Contest that we've given ourselves the chance to enjoy it twice next year. On Saturday night in Istanbul, You're A Star winner Chris Doran sang If My World Stopped Turning only for Europe to stop voting. He finished 23rd of 24 countries. Only one country gave us points.
Not so long ago, the Eurovision was like a stray pet Ireland couldn't get rid of, but next year we will have to qualify from a semi-final. Such will be the soul-searching that it might have made sense if Waterford had sent several counsellors, rather than the councillors.
The opening acts showed little regard for the carefully constructed kitsch of Eurovision by mostly consisting of dull balladeers sitting still on stools. Then, the Ukrainians arrived with prehistoric outfits that involved whips, leather and a strategic smattering of fur.
The singer, Ruslana, danced as if she had her finger in a socket. The song was an incomprehensible, riotous blur. The BBC's Ceefax service provided subtitles. "Shi-di-ri-di-day-na" she gasped, "shi-ri-di-ri-nay". There was only ever going to be one winner.
After that, it was a feast of divas and bare flesh. Sandwiched between all of this was Chris Doran, and unless he had brought a cavegirl costume as an emergency back-up it was always unlikely that he would attract much attention. "Never dismiss Ireland," said Terry Wogan on the BBC, before Europe went ahead and did just that.
The voting began after an interval act that seemed to have been choreographed meticulously after many dedicated hours of watching Riverdance. Thirty-six countries now have a vote, meaning extra helpings for those viewers who only tune in once the songs have been sung. Each country was visited in alphabetical order and we knew we were in trouble by the Bs. As the "nul points" were racked up, the bristling you could hear on RTÉ was the sound of Marty Whelan's moustache drooping resignedly against the microphone.
After 15 countries had snubbed us, the UK finally threw us seven points. Centuries of mass emigration to Britain, it seemed, had finally been good for something. "Good girl! Good girl!" Marty yelled at British presenter Lorraine Kelly. "It was doing my head in."
Those points, however, effectively ended our interest in the competition. Nobody ever remembers who came second last and as the British discovered last year, there can be a sneaky enjoyment to be had from the achieving the perfect ignominy of "nul points." If he had managed it, Doran would have been remembered in pub quiz questions for years to come.
They were our only points and it was a long wait before it was over; although it briefly picked up when Johnny Logan appeared to read the results of the Irish vote and confirmed that he really is big in Turkey.
On the BBC, Terry seemed to be losing the will to go on, so fed up was he of the political voting, perfected most obviously by the Balkan countries. "Someone perhaps will explain to me why we're even bothering," he sighed. By the end, votes were being given to "Serbia-Herzegovina", suggesting that the whole thing had been going on for so long that nations had fallen and risen in the meantime.
Ultimately, Ukraine won. "Is this it?" mumbled Terry after the last votes. "I'm sorry, I nodded off." Nobody, though, could wake Chris Doran from his nightmare.
