IT is a truth universally acknowledged that neighbouring countries always give each other the highest votes in the Eurovision Song Contest.

That is, unless they happen to be neighbours of the UK.

As debate rages over Britain's EU membership, we retain our steely determination to try and be one of the big guns of Eurovision. This is despite the fact that we haven't won it for 19 years, and even then our entry was Australian, (Katrina and the Waves, fact fans).

These days you can predict the voting before you've even heard the songs. The Baltic nations always vote for each other, as do Scandinavian and Mediterranean countries. The UK could usually rely on Ireland and Malta for token votes, but even they have been thin on the ground in recent years.

In Eurovision terms, no-one really likes us - and when it comes to winning, we've had our Waterloo. When the votes are announced it's like standing alone in the playground while everyone else gets picked for the rounders team. The UK could stick Adele on that stage and I still don't think we'd win.

Still we insist on taking part, soldiering on like a plucky Home Guard platoon. On Friday night six acts will compete to represent the UK at this year's contest in Stockholm - they include two rejects from The Voice UK, someone from a Beatles tribute act and a former member of 90s boy band Bad Boys Inc.

No, I don't hold out much hope either, despite news that this year's contest sees the "biggest shake-up in Eurovision since 1975". If you thought the voting system was already dull enough, brace yourself. Each country will now award two sets of points; one from a professional jury and another from viewers' votes. What difference that will make is anyone's guess, apart from prolonging the agony of those cheesy "Hello from Latvia, may we congratulate you on a marvellous show this evening" segments when over-excited presenters eke out their airtime delivering their nation's votes.

Eurovision has always been naff but it used to be fun. It gave us songs like Ding-a-Dong (thank you Holland, 1975) and Diggi-Loo Diggi-Ley (and you, Sweden, 1984), and my particular favourite, La det Swinge, Norway's 1985 entry from Bobbsocks, and it felt inclusive, untainted by political voting. And for UK viewers it was all knitted together by Terry Wogan's much-missed acerbic but affectionate observations.

There's still the occasional gem; Finland's 1998 winners, leather-masked rockers Lordi, the Russian grannies of 2012, and Dana International winning for Israel in 1998. But overall Eurovision is now a slick machine, with a predictable outcome.

We have no chance of winning. Instead, like the kids who will never be star batters for the rounders team, let's try and enjoy it from the outer field, waiting for a big moment that never comes our way.