For the girls, gays and theys, it is an event like no other: Coronations, World Cup finals, even Christmases, pale in comparison.
This is, of course, common knowledge, and yet the magnitude and madness of Eurovision’s crash landing in Liverpool had not yet dawned until I was on the outskirts of the city – and I found the usual sea of red football shirts had been swapped for an ocean of candyfloss-coloured sequins.
