O VIENNA on Tuesday evening for the first semi-final.

And unless my eyes deceive me, three cops in skimpy PVC uniforms, throwing themselves in all directions and ripping off somebody’s shirt, seem to be in the midst of a raid on the Blue Oyster Bar, from Police Academy.

Either that or it’s the beginning of the brilliant annual lunacy that is the Eurovision Song Contest, the TV event of the year, and this is Moldova’s wacky entry opening the qualifiers.

For while all eyes will be on tomorrow’s main event, the smart money was watching BBC3’s two unfiltered heats this week.

The joys of Officer Mahoney and co’s antics, you see, were a false dawn.

Europe failed to get the joke and didn’t vote them through to the final.

The same goes for Finland’s punk rockers fronted by Poldark’s manservant Jud having, let’s say, a bit of an episode, rocking back and forth and growling like a dog.

A dreadful noise.

Yet faced with a hymn sheet of political correctness and the fact that the band all have learning difficulties, Scott Mills declared them as: “Really good!”

Nonetheless, I will miss them during tomorrow night’s finals.

Because these two acts, and a couple of exceptions aside – like my favourite, Belgium – the semis were awash with overly worthy ballads.

The Netherlands had clearly been listening to Natalie Imbruglia’s Torn.

Estonia sent a rubbish Roxette.

Macedonia’s singer was giving it the full “ooh-ooh-ooh, hmm-hmm-hmm” treatment.

A Romanian Omid Djalili, the pre-kebab years, was way too earnest for his own good.

And Hungary’s entry wanted to save the planet: “Let me ask can you justify all the eyes that will never see daylight?

“Do you know how many innocents are hiding from punishment for crimes they’d never commit.

“Do you know our earth is a mess?

“All the wars for nothing, it never ends…”

A right old cheery number, I can tell you.

That’s not what Eurovision should be.

I want some Eastern European rollerskating while playing, I dunno, a live badger or something.

What Eurovision is, though, is Serbia’s song, performed by a woman who’d put Heather from EastEnders literally in the shade, belting out: “Yes, I’m different and it’s OK. Here I aaaaaam! Here I aaaaaam!”

Not that you could miss her.

Yet it wasn’t on stage where the semi-finals fell down most.

That honour goes to Mills’s co-commentator Mel Giedroyc, there because of the BBC’s Bake Off blinkers.

Giedroyc has no idea when to shut up and clearly has not learned that you do not need to comment on absolutely everything.

If you have nothing worth adding, then don’t add it.

So we had gasps of fake shock during the voting and lines like: “Denmark, they’re like The Monkees, aren’t they?” and “Romania, the biggest brooch you’ll see on stage.”

Plus Giedroyc has this exasperating habit that she thinks is funny and affectionate of abridging words: “She does look like Middy (Kate Middleton).”

“Conchits will be in the green room.”

“What do you need to win Eurovish? A good song, obvs.”

And with that last straw, I had just one reply.

Get stuffs.