The 1992 Dutch entry is particularly Dutch and very of its time: a trio of black men in buttoned up shirts and high-waisted trousers dancing in unison to a modern soul-disco number. All is fairly as one would expect, with the possible exception of the accordion solo.

The name of this act is Mrs. Einstein. Sounds like a Paul McCartney song, doesn't it? "Mrs. Einstein, oh Mrs. Einstein, your husband is a clever man /  a husband is a relative but you are relatively sad." or some such drivel. And indeed, this song sounds like a McCartney work, but not one of his oompah vignettes. No, this is "Live & Let Die" (and in equal measure "MacArthur's Park"). It's being performed by five Loose Women (women being definitely the right word; these are not girls by any stretch of the term) who sway about the stage singing something about time. The orchestra squeals around them excitedly, glad of something exciting to do, and the result is "Live & Let Die" with a harmonizing female vocal group sashaying in the back of the speedboat (which has got to be an improvement by anybody's measure).

An energetic piece of early '60s fun, with luxurious string stabs and a sexy swaying verse. It has a cheeky feel and a rising bass, and stands out from most of the rest of the crowd in what was a dull year. Thankfully, its approach would find imitators in 1965.

The Netherlands' regular chanteuse, Corry Brokken, performed, before a Saul Bass style swirl backdrop, a fairly standard Vera Lynn-ish chanson with obligatory music-hall gesturing, before the piece kicked off at 3'30" with a jaunty, punchy fiddle solo courtesy of a charming diminutive bespectacled gentleman.

In 1967, the Netherlands grasped the early '60s Scandinavian innovation of onomatopoeic nonsense sing-along choruses and gave us the inevitable and definitive "Ring-dinge-ding".

Continuing the tight glam-pop theme established by ABBA the previous year, and simultaneously echoing the sentiments of the classic Eurovision choruses of old, in 1975 the Netherlands gave us the enjoyable "Ding-A-Dong" (or more accurately "Ding Dinge Dong") sung by a confused Beverley Sister in her nighty (under the mistaken impression that she's Goldfrapp) and owing more than a little to the Grandstand theme-tune. Having seen the Dutch national finals we believe that Teach-In were the wrong choice for this song and that the mercurial 'Debbie' deserved to take the song to Sweden. Her dark-brown performance, like some menacing Dietrich, found umph, funk and passion where Teach-In could only muster jangly pop. When Debbie shouts "Bim-bam-bom" she really means it.

Possibly influenced by the success of Luxembourg's Renaissance-inflected "L'amour est bleu" a couple of years earlier, in 1969 the Netherlands brought out Lenny Kuhr and her guitar for their winner: a decidedly Moorish and undoubtedly charming chanson with hints of Greensleeves and the Rhineland. It came out as our favourite on what was a rather crowded night.

Conny Vandenbos's severe and angular performance is stunning. From the first bongo-driven moments it is clear that something has changed in Eurovision: the frenetic upbeat innovations of the Germans and the Dutch in 1964 have blossomed into a Latin revolution of sorts.

Eurovision's first black singer (and second black performer) Milly Scott continues the theme the Dutch had been developing in the '60s. The Dutch Shirley Bassey began her song backstage before appearing to greet her gaucho accompanists in a joyful (if slightly cheesy) piece of light Caribbean fun, then left the stage again at the end (only to spoil it by returning for her applause). We didn't give this any points when we originally judged 1966, and that was very very wrong of us. We redress this error now.

The pleasantly tinkly-sounding "Katinka" was delivered with wide eyes and keen grins that broke the cameras and made the delivering duo look like minstrels. But it isn't just the unintended comedy that has earnt this song top billing; it is a genuinely cheery and entertaining performance, cheekily delivered. It was also one of four songs that year to receive the first "nul points" in Eurovision history (all four of them perhaps unsurprisingly featuring in our own top ten).