Not many 70-year-olds spend their nights with pop singers in sparkly catsuits. Or nightmarish monsters barking out heavy metal. Or 160,000 giddy Europeans staring at them as they get progressively more drunk. There’s only one, in fact – the Eurovision song contest. To celebrate its uniqueness, we’ve spoken to some of the most interesting people ever involved with the contest to tell their tales. Happy seven decades of Eurovision!

‘My performance was the worst I’ve ever delivered’

Mr Lordi, frontman of Finnish metal band Lordi, winners in 2006

When we were invited to enter the Finnish national contest to be the Eurovision entry, we thought we had absolutely no chance. We just wanted some free TV for our new album. Then we won the popular vote by a landslide.

By the time we got to Athens, the international media was already really interested in us. We’d arrive in the press room in our full costumes, you know, just minding our own business. Then the press would go: “Oh, fucking hell, that’s Lordi!” and run to us. We thought that was normal. Turns out that no, we were stealing the spotlight from others. And there were some who were really angry about that. There were even official complaints.

We knew we had a good chance of winning. But on the night, that performance was one of the worst versions I personally have ever delivered of Hard Rock Hallelujah. I was sick with a fever. And it’s so hot in that costume you have your own mobile sauna with you. It’s all latex, which doesn’t breathe, so you are wearing a full body-sized condom. I just couldn’t do my screams, couldn’t hit the high notes. Still to this day, 20 years later, I’m really displeased with it.

When we won, it was crazy. The Finns could not believe it – they never thought their country would win Eurovision. They even named the square in my home town after me. And then, within a year, the backlash started. A lot of metal and rock people really resented us for winning. They thought we had sold out. But then, surprisingly fast, normal people started joining in. All of a sudden, from being the hailed national heroes, we were the spitting cup. There was a period of at least four or five years we did not play a single show in Finland. Nobody wanted us. We were a joke.

It was really hard to cope with that. The song was not written for Eurovision. Everything we did was truly from the heart. That’s something I still carry trauma from. For years after, our bass player would walk out on interviews if you would ask anything about Eurovision. There were times we thought: “Fuck, I wish we never went.”

I’ve come to terms with it now, though. Everywhere outside of Finland, we just went up and up. Nowadays it’s all cool. I’m really proud that we are part of Eurovision history.

‘I became Epic Sax Guy – but I had no idea what a meme is’

Sergey Stepanov, saxophonist of Moldovan band SunStroke Project, placed 22 in 2010 and 3rd in 2017

Going to Eurovision was always a dream for me. When I was young, I would watch with my mother, and the artists performing seemed so different from us they were like spacemen. In Moldova, everybody watches it. Our cities are quiet while people sit at home and vote.

The first time we went was to Oslo in 2010. We did not have a lot of money. All we had to make people remember us was our energy, our music – and how much fun we had. We had no idea how big Eurovision could be for us.

We were really happy to come 22nd. It was amazing to have all those eyes on us – it has a big place in my soul. Then, after we came back, my friend called me and said: “You are a meme: Epic Sax Guy. You are famous in the United States!” Until that moment, I had no idea what a meme was.

But there were so many YouTube views of me playing my saxophone. Now, we were like the spacemen. Everybody knew us. One night after a performance, there were two big guys who were trying to start a fight with us. I just told them: “I’m Epic Sax Guy,” and one of them says: “Oh my God! I have the best sex in my life to your music!”

When we went back in 2017, we were about to go on stage when our producers gave me the phone. It was the president of Moldova. He said: “Guys, are you ready to do a miracle?” We went out and came third. Then after we got back, we were invited to the presidential palace and given a medal. It’s the highest honour for a musician in our country. Only five people have ever been given it.

Eurovision changed our lives. The moment I started to do my moves in 2017, the crowd got so loud I couldn’t even hear what I was playing. At that point, I knew my life wouldn’t be the same afterwards. Even now when I think about it I get goosebumps.

‘I jumped up on my seat and started spraying my beer’

James Newman, who represented the UK in 2021 and became the second British act to score nul points

I was driving in my car when the radio announced that they’d cancelled Eurovision. I pulled over to use my phone and realised it was true. It was pretty brutal, as we’d already premiered the song with Ken Bruce on Radio 2. We’d done a video with Wim Hof, who is like my idol, and I just loved that song. But it was Covid – what could you do?

Luckily the next year, everyone was happy for me to be the UK entry again. Getting into the contest was really scary, though. There was this huge quarantine tent you all had to go through – which was like 28 Days Later vibes – and if anyone in your party got a positive test result, you all had to go home.

The day before the contest, I literally thought I was going to win. I’d had a song out in the Netherlands with the Dutch DJ Armin van Buuren, who’s really popular. So I had a bit of a following, and when they did a vote asking people their favourite act they voted me number one. I was like: “Oh my God – this is really promising.” You have to believe in yourself, don’t you?

On the night, the whole arena was cheering for me. I thought it went well. I don’t think we could have done better. We just wanted to come on the left-hand side of the scoreboard, but then obviously it started kind of unravelling a bit.

When they were like: “UK – nil points,” it was a really tough moment. But I’d had a few beers, so I was in good spirits and then I just thought: “It’s music – it’s fun, it’s entertainment. It’s not gonna ruin my life.” So I jumped up on my seat and started spraying my beer then the whole room started cheering.

The day after, I was a bit hungover in the airport, wearing sunglasses thinking: “Oh my God.” But people were coming up to me and being really nice. The staff on the aeroplane gave me a glass of champagne and a card that said: “Well done.” Then when I got back to the UK, everyone was so nice to me. Radio 1 were really supportive and that was really nice because obviously, it could have been a bit brutal.

On the Monday after Eurovision, I woke up to find that my manager had texted me saying: “Chris Martin wants to give you a call.” I replied saying: “Chris Martin from Coldplay?” We FaceTimed and he said: “Don’t let it get you down – I know what it’s like to have those moments.” He was so supportive. I got off the phone and I was like: “Oh my God – I’ve just spoken to one of the greatest songwriters to have lived, and he told me that he enjoyed my performance.” It was absolutely amazing.

‘Father Ted did a sketch about me’

Eddie Friel came 14th for Ireland in 1995, the third year in a row the contest was being hosted in Ireland

Two friends of mine wrote a song and asked me to sing on a demo cassette. Unbeknown to me they sent it to the Irish Song Contest, so I performed it there for them as well – and it won. The Irish press were backstage saying: “How do you feel about going to Eurovision?” And I was saying: “I’m not going to Eurovision.” But in the end, I went with the flow.

Before the contest, the Dubliners were a bit like, oh, Jesus, here we go again. Ireland had won so many times and rumours were swirling around that RTE couldn’t afford to win as they couldn’t afford to stage this again. But that was ridiculous – they had the budget for it. It was all just scaremongering. People were a bit jaded in Dublin – “Oh here we go again with Eurovision, another disaster” – which it wasn’t.

The overall experience was brilliant. On the night, I was really relaxed. And even though the song didn’t come anywhere near winning, I was still invited to places like Brussels and Antwerp and Amsterdam to do interviews and to go to parties.

After the contest I went back to my happy life that I was leading before, playing piano concerts across Europe. Then a few years later, an Australian girl said: “Oh my God, Father Ted did a sketch on your song!” I checked it out and the My Lovely Horse episode is definitely based on me. It was only a year or two after my performance and they copy their song from a 70s track – there had also been a whole controversy over whether our song had been copied from a 1970s song. Plus, there was a storyline about RTE not being able to afford to win again. I found it funny. I wasn’t offended. I don’t know how the songwriters felt about it, but I thought it was brilliant.

‘I sit in what is really just a garden shed’

Graham Norton, official BBC Eurovision commentator since 2009

The first time you go to Eurovision, it is really overwhelming. You just think: “Oh, well, it’ll be a bit like going to a concert.” And it’s only when you get there, you realise, oh, actually, this is the Olympics. It takes over a city for weeks. It is unlike anything else.

Across Europe, I think they think I’m making all these barbed comments. But that’s a hangover from Terry Wogan. I don’t take the piss out of all of it. If it’s good, I’ll say it’s good. It is becoming harder to take the piss out of, because there’s an annoying level of competence now. It was more fun when the hosts were more rubbish, or they’d give the hosting gig to someone who really didn’t know how to host. Those were my favourite years.

Occasionally I will say something barbed. But the thing that annoys me is that other countries wouldn’t know unless a journalist rang up the Polish embassy going: “What did you think of Graham Norton saying this about your entry?” And then, you know, Poland are outraged. That does happen. I was a bit rude about Italy one year and that did not go well.

The best thing about commentating on it is being there. It’s having the best seat in the house and just feeling, in a tiny way, like you’re a part of this enormous circus. It’s a very happy thing to be a tiny cog in. I like feeling like I’m somehow a very distant relation in the Eurovision family.

Although it is odd. The contest is all glitz and glamour, and I’m sitting in what is really just a garden shed – a very small garden shed with a Perspex window. Sometimes there’s air con, sometimes there isn’t. It’s never big enough, my notes are an absolute mess so I’m constantly scrabbling to remind myself who sang for Greece this year. It is the biggest TV show in the world and yet we are broadcasting from under the stairs. So it’s a very strange feeling, but I do love it.

The big thing I have learned is to find out what plane the UK act is getting home – and to be on a different one. It’s a long time to spend with someone who’s probably not very happy. There’s only so many positives you can think up to say – and you’ve probably said them all before you’ve even checked in. Honestly, when I retire, that will be the advice I’ll give someone who’s taking over. When will I retire? I will see what happens. I can still hold my wee in for four hours – you don’t get wee breaks. So, I think my retirement will be based on my bladder.

The Eurovision Song Contest Grand Final is on Saturday at 8pm on BBC One.