And the Winner Is...

BELGRADE, Serbia, May 23, 2008 — -- "Brace yourself Belgrade! You don't know what you're in for." So warned Terry Wogan, the host of this year's Eurovision Song Contest.

The Serbian capital is playing host this weekend to the European institution that so many people love to hate. Artists, in the loosest possible sense of the word, are flocking to Belgrade to represent their countries in one of the world's biggest sing-offs.

But this is no pop idol contest. Many of the entries are, to put it bluntly, ridiculous. The contest was set up in 1956 to unite war-ravaged Europe … not necessarily to find the greatest singers.

Included in this year's lineup is a singing turkey, flying the flag for Ireland, while Belgium offered a song composed entirely of gibberish. During the semi-final, the Finnish entry nearly burned down the stadium with its over-the-top fireworks display; attending firemen were on the verge of intervening.

But Serbia believes it is ready for Europe — at least this week.

Notwithstanding an ongoing power struggle between pro- and anti-Europe party coalitions in the country, Belgrade is casting politics aside to host the fanfare event.

The event's organizers have even tried to ban all political debate from the show.

"Participants represent their countries, not their governments," said Sandra Susa, who's organizing the contest. "We're calling on Serbian and foreign media to set politics aside. We're here to have fun."

The Eurovision Song Contest, which has drawn 43 participating countries this year, is coming to Belgrade for the first time. That's because Serbia's Marija Serifovic won the competition last year in Helsinki, Finland, with her song "Molitva" (Prayer).

There's a mad rush to make everything perfect at Belgrade's arena, one of Europe's largest concert and sports venues. The May 24 final is being rehearsed down to the last detail. Tickets for the shows have sold out, thanks to low prices: the best seats in the house cost 60 euros (about $93).

Even those fans who didn't manage to get tickets will be able to watch the competition on public viewing screens that have been set up in Belgrade's large City Hall square.

The city is preparing for quite a crowd. About 1,500 participants, more than 3,500 journalists and about 20,000 visitors from across Europe are expected. Hotels are fully booked.

The Eurovision event, now in its 53rd year, regularly provides some surprises, some controversy — and plenty of color.

This year, a former winner, Sweden's Charlotte Perrelli, is bidding to make Eurovision history. The UK-based "Popbitch Eurovision Guide," which takes a laugh at this year's Eurovision entries, describes her as "The botox blonde who won Eurovision in 1999."

No entry is spared by the guide.

American singer Isis Gee, representing Poland, "Looks like a porn star … sings like a porn star"; Bosnia is "Bonkers in the nut, but not in a good way"; Spain: "Late-night TV comedian in an ill-fitting Elvis wig"; Croatia: "Look out for the 75-year-old rapper"; while Serbia is likened to "J.LO circa 1867."

The show regularly attracts about 200 million television viewers a year, and will reportedly spin off similar events soon in North Africa and the Middle East. Viewers in the countries of participating broadcasters vote by telephone or text message.

A careful analysis of past song contests suggests the essential ingredients required to win.

The first and most obvious is the need for a bloc vote. Some typical voting blocs: the ex-Yugoslav countries, the ex-Soviet states, and the Scandinavians.

And there are sub-blocs: the Orthodox countries, the two-member Iberian bloc and the Hellenic duo of Greece and Cyprus.

There is even a diaspora bloc. In years past, this has delivered, say, votes for Turkish singers from Germany or for Israeli singers from Jewish voters across the continent.

Last year, true to form, the ex-Yugoslav bloc made the difference, sticking together in perfect harmony; quite a contrast to the way these countries, then republics, acted when they were politically locked inside a single state.

At the 2007 Song Contest, the bloody history of the 1990s was rejected, as every single former Yugoslav republic delivered a full 12 points to Serbia.

Without some kind of bloc support, as Britain and France have learned to their sorrow in recent years, victory is almost impossible.

Still, the most crucial ingredient is the song. The right tune can override any blocs, if it can secure votes from across Europe. This happened two years ago when Lordi, the Finnish group, won with a song that appealed to Heavy Metal fans (and the odd Satanist) from Lisbon to Vladivostok.

Last year, Serbia's Maria Serifovic's "clinch factor" was as obvious as the clothes on her body.

Her very individual style appeared to borrow from lesbian-chic iconography — her masculine dress and hair-style, and rock and roll tradition, as she sang surrounded by super-feminine back-up singers. She took home a ton of gay and lesbian votes (and more than enough straight ones) across Europe.

Jelena Tomasevic, who will represent Serbia this year with "Oro," a tune that has already become a favorite among Eurovision Internet forums, comes to the contest with a simple plan: "We'll party a lot," she said.

Especially, if when she finishes her performance, she hears those magic words that every Eurovision contestant dreams about: "Twelve points go to…"

A bouquet of those top scores is what it will take to be the winner.