So how do the six songs that have taken these coveted places stand up? Let’s take a look, as we go throoooooough the keyhole.

• United Kingdom – Appealing guitar and smooth strings underscores the human anagram’s waltzing ballad. Engelbert Humperdinck is an old pro who’ll give a strong performance on the night of what is definitely one of the contest’s more memorable slow numbers. I’m not sure the key change or the overblown finale suit the song but this is a perfectly respectable contribution to the UK’s Eurovision canon.
• France‘s best entry since Sébastien Tellier failed to get the recognition he deserved back in 2008. Catchy, original and with a lovely line in whistling. Not that should affect the performance of the song, of course, but I can see the video going down very well with *cough* the average Eurovision fan.
• Italy – I’ll happily take a bit of sax but this Amy Winehouse resurrection feels less than the sum of its parts. Nevertheless, it stands out from the crowd and has a certain funkiness to it. I do wish they’d choose a language and stick to it though…
• Azerbaijan‘s entry is, I’d suggest, actually better than last year’s winner – but then I had barely noticed last year’s winner and was somewhat taken aback when it did so well. This is another one for the fairly large pile marked Serviceable Ballads.
• Spain – It has a strong tune at its heart but it’s nothing special and there’s rather too much screeching towards the end for my liking.
• A very strong song from Germany, who have chosen a modern power ballad that could do very well. (Singer Roman Lob did once try to represent the contry in Eurovision before, but sadly When the Boys Come didn’t make it to the national final.)

That’s two high quality semi-finals and a good group of songs already in the final. From these six, my vote would probably go to France or Germany – given, of course, that I can’t vote for the UK

Once the semi-finals are over, we’ll know the 20 songs these six are up against along with the final running order. The first semi-final is next Tuesday, May 22nd, and will be broadcast live on BBC Three. Bring it on.

Once again, I’ve linked each country name to the song’s video on YouTube so that you can see for yourself what I’m blathering about, should you wish.

This is the semi-final we in the UK are able to vote in, so play close attention. Here are the good, the bad, the ugly and the rest from Semi-Final 2:

The Good

In alphabetical order, these are the ten songs I’d put through to the final:

• Belarus – Rock breaks into the second semi-final with fresh-faced emo motorcycle gang Litesound. (The title, We Are the Heroes, made me briefly confuse this with 2006′s Lithuanian horror, We Are the Winners.) I prefer this to Switzerland’s lone rock effort from the previous semi.
• Bosnia and Herzegovina – A pleasant enough piano ballad that builds gently. It’s position penultimate in the running order may mean it sticks the memory.
• Croatia – This is good but, like so many other songs this year, takes a little too long to come alive. When it does, though, it’s enough to elevate Nebo for promotion. The video offers a group of half naked men fighting over a double bass and the Croatian Andrea Corr, in case that boats your float.
• Estonia – I haven’t checked the translation but from my rough Estonian I think this is a song about a man’s love for his pet koala. It’s one of the stronger ballads and some female backing vocals to complement Ott Lepland’s lead plus a sneaky key change push this through for me.
• Lithuania – Part power ballad, part up tempo number, this has the final spot in the semi-final and I can see it happily – and deservedly – winging its way through to a place in the final.
• FYR Macedonia – There is definitely a theme emerging: gentle tracks with some nice musicality that switch up a gear part way through (much to my relief). This is very much in that category: I was sceptical at the beginning, encouraged only by a touch of violin, but then jumped up a level, passed Go and collected 200 Macedonian denars.
• Malta – Nice of Malta to enter an upbeat number rather than a dreary ballad, so points for that. This is the Night is like one of the better reality show singles: it’s catchy and entertaining but strangely empty and if you peeled away the layers, deep in its heart you’d find Simon Cowell rubbing himself all over with £50 notes. Warning: if you watch the video, you may break your computer monitor as the desire to punch most of the people in it becomes overwhelming.
• Norway – One can’t help but notice the similarities between this and 2011′s third placed Popular by Eric Saade from Sweden. This is nowhere near as good but it succeeds in – ahem – playing to the same market. It’s hard to dislike – more rasping synths aside – but it may find itself in competition with Lithuania.
• I went to Serbia for the first time in March and had a brief discussion there about Eurovision. The Serbians I spoke to enjoy the contest but were concerned that the break-up of Yugoslavia and the USSR into multiple entrants (just look how many I’ve already included) makes it much harder for a Western European country to win – a view I’m sure is shared on this side of the continent. Their entry this year doesn’t start too promisingly, with a strong intrumental offset by some tedious balladeering of the kind I can live without. Nevertheless, I can see this doing all right (if it’s not impacted by going first) and once it springs to life, it’s not bad at all. (Željko Joksimović came close to winning back in 2004 with Lane Moje.)
• Slovakia – The loud metal opening made me expect awfulness from this but it’s another OK rock track. This will be going up again Belarus for those votes and I can see the extra drama of this song helping Slovakia to win that match-up.

The Bad

I’m afraid I can only muster one bad song for this section, and I’ll confess here it’s not even properly terrible. The culprit is…

• Slovenia – They’ve found their way into this section because they commit the ultimate Eurovision sin: it doesn’t matter how tuneful or well performed your song is if it’s dull, dull, dull. You can use all key changes and comedy headwear you like – and the last 30 seconds almost redeem it – but it’s stil nul points from me.

The Ugly

Again, only one song managed to shoehorn its way into this category:

• Georgia‘s entry deserves to be much worse than it is. It’s several songs mixed into one with some curious decisions, not least in the production of the creepy video. It’s kind of fun despite that, but I’m not ruling out having nightmares about a scary man in a white suit.

The Rest

The rules of maths mean that we’re left with six songs that won’t do anyone any harm but don’t make my top tier:

• Bulgaria – The weakest of the Eurodance numbers, with deductions for being this year’s most cynical attempt to use lots of different languages in one song. It’s not awful but definitely a good moment to go and make that cup of tea.
• Netherlands – Oh, Beth Orton, where did it all go wrong? It’s hard to pick out anything that’s definitively wrong with this: it’s tuneful enough, it has a clear style of its own, and yet… I think perhaps it’s so inoffensive that it’s gone right round past infinity and come back as offensive, its twee lyrics giving even Brotherhood of Man a run for their money. I can’t say it’s bad but I’d happily never have to hear it again. (And yes, I restrained myself from commenting on singer/writer Joan’s interesting choice of outfit.)
• Portugal – Oh, Portugal, let’s not do this. There were a few nice touches, but when the backing singers came on I was hoping it was a sign of impending excitement rather than a few oohs, aahs and uninteresting harmonies. Go away and do it again.
• Sweden – More tedious synchopated synth Eurodance. At least its title will help those compiling this years’ euphoria albums work out whether it qualifies for inclusion. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if it does OK – it’s unfathomably been tipped for huge success – but *mumbles something about ABBA*
• Turkey have had a mixed track record over the last decade with several songs hitting the top five, including 2003′s winner Everyway That I Can and 2009′s unforgettable Düm Tek Tek. I can’t see Love Me Back setting the EBU on fire with its bizarre lyrics and obsession with nautical metaphors but neither is it a shipwreck.
• Ukraine – After a promising intro, I turned against this. With its mainstream dance attitude, it could do well given the right audience, but those syncopated synths and artificial strings don’t appeal to me at all.

Another good line-up so tune in for the second semi-final on Thursday 24th and see who makes it though – and cast your vote. I’m leaning towards Lithuania, Slovakia or Belarus but we’ll see how they do on the night.

Next time: the Big Five bankrolling countries and last year’s winner Azerbaijan are guaranteed places in the final. We’ll take a look at the six songs the winners of the semi-finals will be facing on May 26th.

My pre-show pontificating is divided into three posts: one for each semi-final (of which, you will correctly surmise, there are two) and one for the final. On your behalf, I’ve endured all of this year’s songs and compiled some brief thoughts. I’ve linked the country name to the song’s video on the official Eurovision YouTube channel to make it as easy as possible for you to agree with me (or disagree, if you’re crazy).

As has been the case for a few years now, the large number of participating countries means we’re treated to semi-finals in order to whittle the songs down to a barely manageable final. Fear not: the UK’s financial contribution to the competition means we never have to go through the indignity of being knocked out in the first round. We’ll be voting for the songs in second semi-final, so we’ll only get to cast formal judgement on these if they make it through to the big event, which is being held in Azerbaijan on Saturday 26th May. In some cases, I really hope we’re spared.

So, without further ado, let’s take a look at the countries who’ve been drawn in the first semi-final.

The Good

The ones I liked and hope to see get through to the next stage, in alphabetical order:

• Greece have a strong track record of memorable, up tempo Eurovision entries and this is very much in that vein. It’s almost Eurovision by numbers – pick a one word title (in this case the suitably exotic sounding Aphrodisiac) and contrive a song around it – with the musical production updated for 2012. I’m not complaining: this is surely one for the final and it’s the only one of the entrants to lodge itself unbidden inside my head.
• Next up is Maureen Lipman‘s favourite Eurovision country: Hungary. This one keeps just on the right side of über earnest and I really like the musical production (though how that will translate on the night is anyone’s guess). The last Hungary song I liked was Dance With Me in 2009 and that sank without a trace, so I’m hoping for better luck this time.
• Iceland will hope to put European prejudices against ash clouds and defaulting banks behind them, and with Never Forget they may. I rather like the video, with its Icelandic scenescape, but more importantly I like the song. I’m a sucker for atmospheric strings, syncopated percussion and a male-female counterpoint – even if there is a touch of Evanescence to it. Since they then add a sudden silence (which I hope survives in the live version) and a key change, I’d put this straight through to the final. (You may remember Jónsi’s cheekbones from such Eurovisions as 2004, where he performed 19th-placed power ballad Heaven.)
• Ireland – I’d never heard Jedward sing before last year’s contest, having not seen whichever talent show from which they emerged, and this year they’re back for a second helping of Eurovision. Waterline feels like it’s fallen off a Stock, Aitken and Waterman landfill of leftover pop songs, but that’s by no means a bad thing. It could do well – although I wouldn’t be surprised if the twins’ live performance falls short of the recorded version, which could impact on their chances. Either way, it needs to accompany a training montage in a 1980s action film as soon as possible.
• Moldova – It’s cheesy as sin – worse, it’s cheesy as actual cheese – but it’s one of many songs in this first semi-final with a winning cheerfulness that keeps the whole thing bouncing along quite happily. A nice instrumental in the middle and a ska jazz feel make it a keeper.
• Romania – Bagpipes, drums and accordion are all part of Zaleilah‘s charm. I suspect the lyrics mean nothing of note but this is a bit of light fun and begs to be served with rum.

The Bad

There’s a disappointing dearth of truly terrible entries this year – I don’t know what the other countries think they’re playing at – but there are certainly some songs I’d like to see taken down the knacker’s yard and put out of our misery. For example…

• Austria – Yes, they are genuinely using the band name Trackshittaz. To their credit, it’s an appropriate name, because, to their deficit and excuse mon français, the track is utterly shit. Awful, shouty rubbish. Still, sung in German, “Woki mit deim Popo” sounds rude, so at least that’s entertaining.
• Denmark – I’ve often loved overlooked Danish entries (and pastries, for that matter), and now that we all love The Killing and Borgen, could it be Denmark’s year? No, no it won’t. Soluna Samay is so middle of the road, her only chance of creating excitement is if she trips over the cat’s eyes. Tiresome.
• Latvia – Oh cripes: it’s a Eurovision song about recording a song for Eurovision, and its winning no fans here with the lyric “I was born in distant 1980″. A Eurovision fan friend asked me a few weeks ago whether singer Anmary was in on the joke. I really hope so. Yes, it’s catchy, but so’s smallpox. If the lyrics were in foreign, this might be passable – as it is, it’s hideous and deserves to be burned. Right now.
• Russia – The Eurovision gays won’t be in any hurry for Russia to host the contest again so this dreadful chorus line of singing grannies could be perfect news, if only we didn’t have to listen to it. That said, it does run the major risk of picking up a shedload of “ironic” votes from across the continent. The dancing is only marginally more co-ordinated than Pan’s People, the singing is less tuneful than Jemini and the song itself is dire, so anything could happen.
• San Marino – “Do you wanna be more than just a friend? Do you wanna play cybersex again? If you wanna come to my house then click me with your mouse.” Those lyrics alone tell you all you need to know about the horror that is The Social Network Song. Someone’s noticed that the internet’s a thing and decided to write a sub-Whigfield pun-laden Eurovision entry about it – and then autotuned it to death. And the social networks have spoken: its YouTube Dislikes are outnumbering its Likes by more than three to one. “Oh oh – uh – oh oh” indeed.

The Ugly

Some songs defy categorisation, and they’re the ones I’ve included in this category:

• Sometimes Israel give us a stonking pop song; sometimes it’s a terribly worthy ballad about how good it would be if everyone just got along; and sometimes it’s just bizarre. This time it’s a kitch number that sounds like it’s fallen through time from one of those 1970s Top of the Pops they show on BBC Four to save them making new programmes. It’s too jolly to actively dislike but Slade were never my scene and I don’t like Star Wars. (I do like Star Wars.)
• Montenegro will open the show with Euro Neuro and we start as we might hope to go on: bonkers. It’s a strange fusion of folk instruments, funky beat and monotonous rapping, like an Eastern European Cake, and there is clear evidence the lyricist got drunk and made a series of ill-advised bets with a rhyming dictionary. For all that, the chorus is memorable (for the duration of the song).

The Rest

The remaining songs were neither particularly good, nor particularly bad. The word “meh” is frowned upon, so we’ll just call them “the rest”:

• Albania – I spent two of this song’s three minutes waiting for it to start. It eventually did (complete with some epic shrieking), but that’s not making the best use of the allocated stage time. The video’s worth a look: a woman with her legs in a box; two children drawing chalk lines on a wall; a weird bird mask; a tealight on a record player. I’m not saying Rona Nishliu doesn’t have good hair – I’ve got nothing against the hair – but I am saying this song could be better. On the other hand, it also could be worse.
• Belgium – When the drums came in a third of the way through, I was hoping this was going to turn into a big number. Instead, it just carried on as before but with drums. Sorry, Iris: this may still be better than most of whatever the kidz listen to today, but you’re no Sergio & The Ladies.
• Cyprus – Here comes the Eurodance. That’s pretty much all you need to know, and being the only track from that oeuvre in the semi, it should corner the market. It’s not bad, although nothing special for the genre – it would play quite happily in a club in Ibiza or Gran Canaria or Frinton or wherever it is one goes to take E and dance topless these days. As the title La La Love suggests, there are a lot of la la la la las – and then it abruptly stops because its three minutes are up. NB: the video appears to feature Catherine Zeta Jones being chased by Tracy Scoggins in a funny hat.
• Finland – Interestingly, this is sung in Swedish. (Look, it’s interesting to me. So Suomi.) I don’t understand a word but I’m sure it’s very poetic. The song has a pleasant, gentle melody and Anna Friel did an OK job singing it, but I can’t see it sparking a riot at Our Price or overloading the phone voting lines.
• Switzerland – Sinplus, the first rock band in this year’s contest, offer a less than subtle “follow your dreams” message. Unbreakable isn’t breaking any new ground – who is it I’m reminded of? Snow Patrol? The Pigeon Detectives? – but it fills three minutes without complaint and as the only guitar band in this semi-final, they stand a good chance of getting through. Of course, when it comes to the voting, I expect Switzerland to give everybody two points.

That’s not a bad line-up, I’d say, so expect a watchable semi-final on Tuesday 22nd May. Were we phone voting for this programme, I’d be calling up to vote for Iceland and Hungary.

Next time: eighteen more countries battle it out for ten coveted final places in Semi-Final 2. Stay tuned!

It was our final show and my last chance to catch other people’s. I reluctantly wrote off the chance to see an assortment of stand-ups I’d meant to get to (sorry), managing to squeeze in three shows before The Last Night in Edinburgh. And that, as you can imagine, was going to be a Big One. I have had to buy in an extra consignment of Capital Letters.

I made my first ever trip to The Counting House to see The Choob, a crazy character comedy show set on the London Underground, before heading off to do the final Three Man Roast. That went swimmingly, aided by another pot of tea, and, inspired by a talkative audience, I enjoyed going off piste during my compèring section and the final section of my set. It was my version of bringing in games for the end of term.

Sadly, I had to sneak off the end of the show in order to make it down to The Tron to see Tom Bell Begins. Tommy and the Weeks tangentially (and inadvertently) helped to get me into stand-up so I grabbed the opportunity to see Tom’s show.

Not long into it, my laugh got me into trouble again. Tom dropped the Q-bomb – “quantum-locked” – and I made the mistake of laughing before he had the chance to explain the Doctor Who reference. I had exposed myself. My reward was to play a game of grandmother’s footsteps and, having won that, to be portrayed by Jennifer Aniston – so all’s well that ends well.

The last thing I went to see at the Fringe was only my second play of the month. I’d meant to see far more theatre but never quite got round to choosing any. The first one I saw was, you’ll recall, atrocious. Despite my concern about the description of A Hero of Our Time as an adaptation of an overlooked Russian novel, I rather enjoyed it.

You may wonder why I would choose such a play, given my apprehensiveness. It’s Doctor Who again. Sorry. I follow Peter Wicks off of twitter because he’s a fanboy and he had tweeted about the play, what with being in it, so I thought I’d go along. I’m glad I did, not least because he was awesome in it (as rightly commended by the NSDF).

Dinner was a delicious Chinese with my frequent Edinburgh companions Niki and PBR. I then met PBR’s friend Tim (from Found Objects) and casually mentioned Doctor Who. Within 15 minutes, we were discussing Ian Chesterton and Barbara Wright’s sex life. I took this to indicate he is a fan.

And then I was in the Dome chatting to Peter off of The Russian Play, who I’d not met before, about Doctor Who and cult TV. This is my life, people.

I had planned to have a Big Night Out. It was Friday and I fancied marking the end of the Fringe in style. But actually I had a bit of a cold, was quite tired and needed to be up in the morning, so at the horrendously early hour of 2am, I went home to bed.

Not with a bang, but with a whimper.

What I learnt today: Let’s face it: Doctor Who is the glue that binds the world together.

After the horror of yesterday’s croaky show, I determined to do everything I could to make my voice function. I spent much of the morning gargling salt water, which certainly helped, but the best solution, it turned out, was tea.

I had soup for lunch and when I told the man in the sandwich shop that it was for my voice, he suggested lemon and ginger tea. I fell immediately for his cunning point of sale marketing and went away with two cups of liquid.

The tea worked a charm and my voice, while still a bit croaky, became much more serviceable. The pub we were performing in served hot drinks too so just before the show I got them to make me a pot of tea with a slice of lemon. Milk is not good for the vocal chords so, for the first time in my life, I drank it without. I even took the cup on stage with me, leaving the audience in no doubt that I was the spiritual successor to Bill Hicks.

It was a brilliant show. We were full to capacity and the audience went with every single joke from all three of us. It wasn’t just a relief after yesterday; it was the best gig of the run.

I celebrated with a trip to see Holly Walsh’s The Hollycopter. I’d been meaning to go for weeks and with her nomination for best newcomer in the Edinburgh Comedy Awards, I made sure I snapped up a ticket before they sold out. A very enjoyable show, it was also the second I saw that week to feature Guildford. True fact.

Social butterfly that I am, I happened upon the So You Think You’re Funny party in the evening. It was full of bright young things and initially full of free booze. Not so much by the time I left for the last Comedy Countdown of the Fringe.

With Danny Pensive back in dictionary corner, the theme tune used for the clock and Blink‘s Ray Peacock playing the game, the show was full of Doctor Who references – which is just how I like it (and, indeed, anything). I am not a natural heckler and rarely shout out anything, let alone “Sontarans”, but time makes fools of all of us.

I’m told that after I worked out the last numbers game, my bouncing in my chair could be felt at least two seats along. The combination of a TV quiz, a letters game answer of KALEDS and a few free Mojitos had perhaps left me a little over-excited. I ended up shouting the solution across the room so croakily that the brilliant host Dan Atkinson promised me free Strepsils for life as a prize.

I made it to four Comedy Countdowns in the end and they were definitely one of the highlights of the Fringe.

After that, I retired to Brooke’s and ended up talking about cult TV until the early hours. Tom Neenan from the old GOL sidled sheepishly across the room and with mock obsequiousness asked me to sign his copy of the new Doctor Who Magazine. I borrowed it and had a quick flick through, as my copy was awaiting me in London, but when I returned it the poor man insisted he was serious, having “always wanted to get someone’s autograph in Brooke’s”. He slinked away the proud owner of the only autograph I have ever given, my name scrawled across a photograph of me with Haemovore hands.

The Edinburgh Fringe is a strange place.

What I learnt today: Tea is a panacea.

There are three comedians in Three Man Roast. We have cunningly concealed a clue to this fact in the name. Yesterday, two of them did very well. The other one of them, having managed to screw his larynx, struggled through his set trying with only some success to get punchlines out without his voice cracking over the most crucial syllables. In hindsight, I like to think the relative quiet from the audience was generosity: they didn’t want to drown out my quiet lines with laughter. That was kind of them.

One audience member did come up to me afterwards and say she enjoyed my set which is always lovely to here but was particularly appreciated after straining through it.

I did innovate two responses to my impairment. I lip-synced to a recording of part of my set, which elicited bafflement more than anything else, but, for the record, my lip-syncing was very technically accomplished. Alex suggested it may have been too accomplished and the audience thought I was just talking. Dan suggested I had become my own Blackpool drag act.

The second innovation was a cracking joke about Robert Redford that frankly didn’t get the recognition it deserved.

It’s fair to say I was a bit dejected, but I was cheered up by a cuppa, some vitamin pills and stumbling across Ronnie Corbett and Paul Daniels within five minutes of each other. Go, Edinburgh.

And while I thought I had a bad gig, I shouldn’t be complacent as I still had a better gig than the guy whose show I went to see in the evening. He had one audience member turn up: me. So he took me to the pub, which was nice, and we pretended it was a one-to-one immersive theatre experience.

The third and final Karaoke Circus of the run was another joyous occasion. In the bar afterwards, I met half of the Beta Males and was able to tell them how much I enjoyed their show. I may have had a few drinks and added a lot of people on Facebook on the way home.

What I learnt today: The iPhone’s Facebook app needs a breathalyser built in. Or maybe a logic test that you need to be sober to beat, like the one in GMail. The same goes for Twitter.

Recommended show: I haven’t seen it but I have been recommended M. Croser – Unpleasant Man by people of taste, so that’s today’s.

Obligatory plug: I’m in Three Man Roast (★★★★ – whatsonstage.com), 2.35pm weekdays at Finnegan’s Wake on Victoria Street – free entry.

The combination of a low-level Fringe cold and shouting on stage most days had taken its toll and I was starting to lose the ability to speak. It’s an ability I took thoughtlessly for granted. Turns out it’s a pretty key skill when it comes to doing stand-up in Edinburgh.

Although I was croaky, the show went well and I was able to catch up with a number of friends from the audience over a pint afterwards. In an attempt to add tuberculosis to my vocal problems, I then headed down to the dankness of the Caves to see Danny Pensive. Not that I’d have got tuberculosis as I demonstrated immunity when tested at school. Take that, BCG losers.

I had three reasons for seeing Danny Pensive’s Map of Britain: he was a scream at Comedy Countdown; a friend recommended his show; and he’s a Doctor Who fan.

There are quite a few fanboys (it’s a non-gender-specific term) performing in Edinburgh. I’ve been trying to make a list – obviously, because that’s what fanboys do. And here I don’t mean people who like Doctor Who a bit; I mean people who like Doctor Who a lot. People who have the DVDs and actually watch the DVD extras. People who subscribe to Doctor Who Magazine. People who know their Sagacity from their City of Death.

So far I’ve got me and Dan from Three Man Roast (of course); John Cooper (aka Danny Pensive); Michael Legge; Tom Neenan from off of the Gentleman of Leisure (the old GOL); Andrew O’Neill; John Henry Falle from the Beta Males; Marc Burrows (from The 90s in Half an Hour); and Mitch Benn. Stuart Goldsmith and John-Luke Roberts from The Behemoth have question marks next to their names. Do grab them in the street and check. (Update: Luke Roberts – I don’t know why I doubted it. But I foolishly overlooked Colin Hoult and Tom Bell.)

Any more for any more? That list is, surprise surprise, uniformly male so far.

I’m not going to round these people up or anything. Although the Nazis probably said that too to begin with.

The evening’s entertainment was the middle show in the three-day run of the glorious Karaoke Circus. Nathan the Trombonist let me put my name down for all of the songs, as is my foolish way. It was particularly foolish on this occasion with my fading voice managing a workable singing range of around half an octave. I knocked back some Covonia and hoped for the best.

It was another marvellous night. Highlights included Robin Ince’s Two Little Boys (not a euphemism); Tim Vine’s disturbing one-piece PVC jumpsuit as Plastic Elvis; and Nadia Kamil and Joe Lycett performing Cee Lo Green’s uncensored big hit that may not be named (this is a family blog, we don’t say “fuck” here). I landed the last audience open spot.

Some of the songs would have been OK. Some of the songs didn’t have two many notes. Unfortunately, I was summoned to sing Come on Eileen. This, it turns out, has all of the notes and if your voice is a bit weak, it has the potential to sound the laryngal death knell.

I fear Eileen will have been less spurred on and more scared off.

Still, I got to show off my new Karaoke Circus t-shirt, as snapped by Isabelle:

What I learnt today: When you have a weak voice, rest it, you idiot.

Recommended show: Danny Pensive’s Map of Britain

Obligatory plug: I’m in Three Man Roast (★★★★ – whatsonstage.com), 2.35pm weekdays at Finnegan’s Wake on Victoria Street – free entry.

John Kearns’ Dinner Party is an odd show, in the best way. Not really stand-up; not really sketch. There’s lots of audience interaction (or at least the appearance of audience interaction) as the slightly deranged John Kearns attempts to host a dinner party (you may have guessed that part). The show also features newly-crowned Amused Moose Laugh Off winner Pat Cahill as John’s friend Pat. It’s a strange, funny concoction that reminded me of Simon Munnery – and that’s definitely a good thing.

My other pick-me-up was the always utterly brilliant Karaoke Circus which crashed onto stage at the Pleasance Dome for the first of three nights. Josie Long and Tom Bell singing Pulp; Phill Jupitus as Neil Hannon; Tiernan Douieb pwning the theme from The Wire; and Ed Aczel gloriously destroying …Baby One More Time, amongst others. Song sign-up administration was delegated by host Martin White to Thom Tuck, who refused to let me sign up for every song and insisted on a two song maximum. This makes young Mr Tuck a rapscallion and a blackguard, and those aren’t words I use lightly or without recourse to a dictionary.

The major job for the day was updating my master spreadsheet of shows to see. With only a few more days in Edinburgh, it’s time to recognise that I don’t have the time or money to see everything I’d like. I’ve pared it down to the absolute musts, so you can take it from my remaining blog posts this week that the shows I mention are suitably musty.

What I learnt today: Thomas Tuck is a bad man and should be refused dessert even when he really wants it.

Recommended show: John Kearns’ Dinner Party

Obligatory plug: I’m in Three Man Roast (★★★★ – whatsonstage.com), 2.35pm weekdays at Finnegan’s Wake on Victoria Street – free entry.

Our show isn’t on Sundays so I took my last opportunity to catch The 90s in Half an Hour by Marc Burrows. Turns out that I was right and the 1990s were brilliant. But then I was always going to enjoy a show whose audience walk-in music included Suede’s Filmstar and Sleeper’s Inbetweener (a lyric from which was a chapter title in a Paul Cornell Doctor Who book, if I recall).

I have seen the Beta Males performing sketches on several occasions but only ever three of them, so their show The Train Job was my first time experiencing their full complement of four. It was worth it.

Look, I’m not writing reviews. I’m doing a show and it’s weird to review other shows. But the Beta Males were very funny. That is all I’m saying.

The evening saw my return to Tricity Vogue’s Ukulele Cabaret. Tricity was having a day off so the show was ably hosted by accordionist Dan Woods (off of this) and ukuleleist Jo Stephenson (off of this). Together they are doing a musical comedy show at the Royal Botanic Gardens about growing your own vegetables.

I did Dungeons & Dragons and Passenger Announcement, playing most of the right notes and mostly in the right order. I’m still pretty ropey at the singing and strumming at the same time thing but I’m gradually getting better. And if you saw me last night: yes, that’s me getting better.

Discovered once again what a small world the Edinburgh Fringe is when I bumped into a guy I knew from uni who was in the audience and is staying with Jo. We all went for a pint after the show; I still don’t know why Dan spluttered his pint over me when Jo asked if I liked the new Doctor Who.

What I learnt today: Early nights are good. (I may have learnt that already but I’m reminding myself.)

Recommended show: Beta Males: The Train Job

Obligatory plug: I’m in Three Man Roast (★★★★ – whatsonstage.com), 2.35pm weekdays at Finnegan’s Wake on Victoria Street – free entry.

I’ve failed to go to the gym so far this week so, despite my malady, I dragged myself down to Holyrood Park for a run. I only managed a mile before slinking back home and then heading out for a fried breakfast. This weekend is more than making up for my sensible eating so far this month. Top marks to the pub where we ate, Holyrood 9A: they decided they had taken too long without our food and gave it to us on the house. We hadn’t even complained.

En route to our show, I popped into a barbers’ and got my hair and beard trimmed, along with some firmly-shared tips about how I should have been trimming my beard and moustache. Ahem.

The room was full for Three Man Roast. Sport of some manly variety was on the big screen in the pub but the noise generously kept itself outside and we had a cracking show.

Next stop was the Grassmarket to join Tricity Vogue‘s kazoo choir in a rendition of Blue Moon. Because this is the kind of thing that happens on the Fringe. Someone has already put it up on YouTube:

Such a beautiful noise.

A dash to the other end of the Grassmarket meant I was in time for Tom Webb Fixes 2012. I’ve done Tom’s open mic gigs a number of times and he’s an experienced and charismatic compère. This carried over into his one-man show which is a lovely little creation brimming with ideas, and a fair amount of silliness.

After discovering the difficulty in finding a table in any restaurant in Edinburgh city centre on a Saturday night in August, we booked ahead and grabbed a snack before Thom Tuck Goes Straight to DVD. Another lovely show, delivered with theatrical panache. Despite having seen none of the films referred to in the show (not even those released cinematically), I was particularly tickled by one joke about The Little Mermaid. Unfortunately, this lead to another Me Laughing Too Loudly incident.

Thanks to our reservation, we managed to eat properly afterwards. More than properly. I am, for the second night in a row, absolutely stuffed. The Baileys cheesecake probably wasn’t entirely necessary, but…

And then back to the flat, where I won my first game on apterous. Must… switch… off…

What I learnt today: I should be trimming my beard much more lightly.

Recommended show: Tom Webb Fixes 2012 and Thom Tuck Goes Straight to DVD

Obligatory plug: I’m in Three Man Roast (★★★★ – whatsonstage.com), 2.35pm weekdays at Finnegan’s Wake on Victoria Street – free entry. Also at Tricity Vogue’s Ukulele Cabaret at 9pm on Sunday 21st at The Three Sisters (that’s free entry too).