One was called Filomena and looked like she was wearing her mum’s underwear to go down the shops in.
One was called Silvia and wasn’t afraid to blend into the background in uninteresting beige.
One was called Daniela and looked like a young Linda Martin while wearing some really baggy keks.
And the other? Well, she was called Catarina and you just knew that whatever gay bar she walked into, she’d own it with a quick snap of the fingers and wouldn’t be paying for a drink all night.
Together, they weren’t Fox Force Five. No, they were Fourtugal. The undeniable force coming to a Eurovision near you in May. And you just know Catarina is the boss. Try telling her you’re too busy rehearsing the links with the international juries to pop down the bakery for her morning custard tarts.
Basically, today’s announcement means that for the first time ever there will be four female presenters at Eurovision, besting the three fellas who did the job in Kyiv last year.
It’s a great message that will have people pasting massive paper crosses on glass ceilings throughout Europe but regardless of gender, it seems unwieldy.
The guess is that two will host the semis and another the final, perhaps with everyone getting a shout by doing a few minutes of green room duty. The sort of banter requiring an air of spontaneity which has become the earmark of recent Contests is tricky enough to share out between two so four is going to be a Gordian knot for the writers.
One thing we can all sleep soundly on, however. Nobody could ever be worse than the tripartite soulless vaccuum which guided us through all the fun in Baku 2012.
Anyway, must dash. Catarina’s caipirinha glass is empty and she’s giving me a glare.