The Eurovision Song Contest reaches its grand final on Saturday night in Basel, with 26 countries fighting for the coveted glass microphone trophy.
The competition feels less predictable than recent years, when acts like Loreen (Sweden, 2023) and Kalush Orchestra (Ukraine, 2022) were ordained to win before they'd even sung a note.
Currently, bookmakers have installed Sweden at the top of the table, with their delightfully bonkers sauna sonnet, Bara Bada Bastu.
But here's the thing: A novelty number has never won. Voters typically prefer songs about triumph over adversity, and stonking great pop anthems.
Ideally, they want a stonking great pop anthem about triumph over adversity, and there are plenty of those sprinkled through tonight's running order.
We spoke to the five contestants with the best odds, to find out what makes their Eurovision entries stand out.
KAJ are the first Finnish act to represent Sweden at the Eurovision, hailing from the coastal town of Vörå, where Swedish is still the main language.
A comedy troupe who met at school, they've been performing together for more than 15 years – and were the surprise winners of Sweden's Melodifestivalen, where the public selects the country's Eurovision entry, earlier this year.
Their song, Bara Bada Bastu, is an accordian-led tribute to sauna culture (Finland has more than three million saunas, one for every two people).
"It felt like a natural thing to sing about," says Kevin Holmström. "We really like the sauna. It's universal."
The first Swedish-language entry since 2012, the song extols the practice's stress-busting virtues. Is that why Finland is consistently ranked as the world's happiest nation, I wonder?
"It's a chicken and an egg situation," laughs Jakob Norrgård. "I don't know which came first, the happiness or the sauna, but the sauna definitely brings your pulse down."
The trio have brought a mock sauna to the Eurovision stage this year, complete with birch branches, hot coals and dancers in skimpy towels. In the lyrics, they ask, "how long can you last?".
"Oh, we can make it last all evening," confirms Jackob. "A sauna party that lasts for hours."
"I like to do it with a lot of intervals," says Axel Åhman. "Two to three hours, going in and out, having something to drink, maybe even snack on a sausage outside, and then go back in – just to make it a calm and long session."
And how does Finland feel about the fact the trio are representing their neighbour and Eurovision rival?
"Finns love a bargain, so this is great," laughs Jackob.
"Sweden gets to pay for everything, but it's a Finnish win as well."
Austria has the best opening couplet of the year: "I'm an ocean of love / And you're scared of water."
"It's about my personal experience with unreciprocated love," says singer Johannes Pietsch, who performs under the name JJ. "It felt like I was walking a one-way street."
The 24-year-old is moonlighting at Eurovision from his day job at the Vienna State Opera, where he's had roles in The Magic Flute and Von der Liebe Tod.
"A sold-out show at the opera holds 1,600 people, so that's nothing compared to the Eurovision audience," he says (last year's TV broadcast was seen by 163 million people).
Pietsch's song, Wasted Love, is a turbulent ballad that makes spectacular use of his counter-tenor, with an EDM twist.
On stage, he performs in a ramshackle sailing boat, clinging to the mast as the ocean threatens to consume him. It's one of the night's most arresting performances, and it requires a lot of preparation.
"That's the opera singer in me, I practice every day." he says. "I have to do vocal warm-ups to keep the voice active and before I go on stage, I always do ten push-ups and one-minute planks."
Reaching the Eurovision final has been a dream since he watched Conchita Wurst win for Austria in 2014. Could he replicate that success in Switzerland?
"That would be great for Austria. I would love to do that. I would call Conchita my mother, so I'd love to make her proud."
"I'm surrounded by a sand storm, a sand tornado, and I'll be wearing a custom Rabanne dress."
French singer Louane is describing the simple, but stunning, staging for her ballad, Maman.
The sand is real (how she avoids inhaling it, I'll never know) but it serves a purpose: The song, which was inspired by her mother's death from cancer, is all about the passage of time.
"It's a song that says that, even through sadness and deep pain, you can finally feel fine," she says.
Maman is technically a sequel to a 2015 song of the same name, written in the depths of Louane's despair. "I've lost my taste for fun / I can't find meaning," she sang.
The 2025 version includes several callbacks to the first song. For example, the original opened with the lyric: "Lovers move from bed to bed", but the update finds her singing, "No more lovers, no more beds."
Having a child of her own helped Louane lift the veil of grief.
In the song, she talks about how holding her daughter's hand brought back memories of the times her mum had done the same - only this time, the pain of remembering was gone.
In Maman's closing bars, we briefly hear her daughter's voice.
"She won't be here in Basel," says Louane. "She's going to be watching on TV, because she's only five."
"But she's super proud. She keeps on telling me, 'Maman, you have to bring the trophy home.
"She's just adorable'."
The Netherlands originally asked last year's entrant, Joost Klein – who was barred from the final after an alleged altercation with a camera operator — the chance to come back for 2025.
Although he'd already written a song for the contest, he declined, saying his disqualification still "stings".
Instead, the honour went to 21-year-old Claude Kiambe, who moved to the Netherlands from the Democratic Republic of Congo when he was nine years old.
"It wasn't always safe in Congo," he says. "I couldn't afford to go to school… and I love school."
His mum eventually managed to smuggle the family out of the country, and it's to her that his Eurovision song is dedicated.
Titled C'est La Vie, it's a joyous blend of Afropop and French chanson that repeats the advice she used to give Claude and his siblings in the asylum centre in Alkmaar.
"She used to tell me, 'C'est la vie. Life is beautiful, even if it is hard sometimes.'
"So when I heard about Eurovision, I was like, 'Wait, if I go there, I want to bring that message to the world'.
"I have a lot of respect for her. She fought through life, and we're still here."
Claude comes into the contest with a little advantage, as he's known throughout Europe for his massive 2022 hit Ladada. But he's had to pick up a new skill for Eurovision: Choreography.
"I'd only ever done one dance move before, but when I was writing the song, I was like, 'It's time for me to step out of my comfort zone and dance around'."
Learning the choreography took three days, he reckons. "We started at 11 and ended at nine. I wanted to know it so well that I could do it in my dreams."
Ask Erika Vikman to describe her song, and she doesn't pull any punches.
"It's about orgasm."
Full of pummelling techno beats and what appears to be a Welsh male voice choir, it's one of those tracks that's guaranteed to become part of Eurovision folklore, no matter where it comes in the final.
Vikman was once hailed as the queen of Finland's tango scene but gave it up for pop, "because I can't be very wild with that type of music."
Citing artists like Madonna, Cher and Lady Gaga as inspiration, she's one of the few artists to take to the stage without dancers.
"Why? Because I'm selfish!" she laughs. "I want attention."
"No, it's because when I go the stage, I feel like a rock star, and when I feel like a rock star, I really don't need dancers, because it's owning my power and myself."
She certainly owns the stage – ending her song atop a giant gold microphone that spurts fire as she's hoisted into the sky.
Eagle-eyed viewers might notice, however, that her costume is a little less revealing than the one she wore for Finland's selection show, Uuden Musiikin Kilpailu.
"They said that it won't pass if we don't tone down something," she says, "and one of the suggestions was my outfit."
"So I was like, 'Okay, if that, that's price to pay, we cover my butt'."
That doesn't mean she's happy about it.
"The song is about owning your sexuality, and then someone comes and controls me, saying, 'you will ruin every child who is watching this show'. It's a double standard."
Censorship or not, Vikman's odds of winning shortened dramatically after a barnstorming performance in the semi-finals.
"I have a feeling about it," she smiles. "I can be the dark horse."
After Thursday's semi-final, UK act Remember Monday shot up the odds... well, kind of.
Formerly predicted to come 17th, they're now gunning for 11th place.
But the trio - who are the first girlband to represent the UK since the 1999 - are determined to have fun, no matter what the outcome.
"This is all so surreal, beyond anything we could have imagined," says singer Lauren Byrne.
"It sounds so cheesy, but it is genuinely everything we've ever wanted," says her bandmate Charlotte Steele. "Who gets to stand up and perform their music, with their two best friends, to millions of people? It's mental."
"And listen," adds Lauren. "If we do really badly, we're just gonna keep coming back until we win."
In their favour, Remember Monday's performance is chirpy and fun, drawing on their background in musical theatre. There's a dress-ripping nod to former UK winners Bucks Fizz, and their live harmonies are exquisite.
"They have an insane amount of experience," says Ace Bowerman, a creative director for Dua Lipa and Blackpink, who designed their staging.
"Their performance is constantly moving, and bringing the audience in. Ultimately, the energy we want to create is that people will want to be a part of this band."
Maybe fans have underestimated Remember Monday's chances because West End show tunes are an untested quantity at Eurovision - but the UK's track record doesn't bode well.
We'll have to wait and see what the hell (just) happens.
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