MY first vote at Saturday’s Eurovision Song Contest would have gone to the Cypriots. Their entry, Alter Ego, by a band called Minus One was a big rocky number sung by four blokes wearing black trench-coats, the obligatory apparel for any group who aspire to being gods of rock.

I didn’t really fancy the video, though. It was trying to do that mean, moody and magnificent thing by being filmed outside under glowering skies and marching telegraph poles but the effect was ruined by the presence of a wolf, a Cadillac car and a woman wearing a cape. It could have been the new advert for Scottish Widows.

At least they could play their own instruments and had their own distinctive sound, unlike most of the rest of them who all sounded like they were auditioning for the X Factor. So, having given the Cypriots douze points, I’d have accorded the UK entry dix points. I can’t remember the name of the band but they seemed to know what they were doing and concentrated on playing their instruments instead of pretending to do so while executing a trapeze act.

I watched all this in the company of Paula and Hannah, two seasoned and cynical Eurovisionistas, who mocked my exasperation that Britain, after a promising start, soon got involved in a relegation dogfight to avoid the play-offs.

“The eastern European countries all decide early doors which among them gets their votes. And hardly anyone votes for Britain,” they said.

“Even though they’re clearly worthy of finishing in the Champions League places,” I protested.

“You’re not getting it,” they said. “The UK is not considered to be very cool or European and so hardly anyone ever votes for them, apart from the odd sympathy vote out of gratitude for being liberated during the war.”

This was my first Eurovision for many, many years; certainly since Katrina and the Waves did the business for us in 1997. Of course, I say ‘Us’ in a slightly bashful way. Since then there’s been devolution and an independence referendum in which I voted Yes.

Old habits die hard though, and when Malta gave us 12 points on Saturday night I cheered them heartily as if it was 1976 and I was making plans to buy Save Your Kisses For Me by the Brotherhood of Man; the Ipswich Town of Eurovision. These though, were more innocent times and everything’s got pure geopolitical now.

Ukraine’s winning song on Saturday was called 1944, so-called because it was about Stalin’s forced clearances of the Tatar minority from Crimea in 1944. This subject resonates gloomily in the modern-day conflict between Russia and the Ukraine. The reaction in Russia though, was 1976 and Brotherhood of Man all over again. Not only did the Tass News Agency condemn the result they also said it was “a result of the propaganda and information war that is being waged against Russia”. I was waiting for the phrase: Capitalist Running Dogs to feature. This though, was unlikely as modern Russia now has more capitalist running dogs than a kennel facility in South Kensington.

The Russian song was the pre-tournament favourite but it was done for as soon as their boy began to sing it. Paula and Hannah told me that the song had been “a team effort” which included the contribution of a Glaswegian called John Ballard who grew up in Drumchapel. The Glaswegian influence, I am proud to say, became obvious when the singer was observed ascending some steps in the middle of his performance. The singer, a strapping lad called Sergey, had obviously studied the style of a drunk Glaswegian stumbling up the stairs while trying not to spill the salad in his giant donner kebab. The big Russian pulled it off admirably and I was speechless with pride… and a couple of bacardis.

It seems that Nicola Sturgeon was watching Eurovision 2016 too as she tweeted that she was having difficulty with the concept of an Australian entry this year. I hope too that she took note of how ill-disposed the rest of Europe was to the UK. I would advise her to think very carefully about this when she comes to write the white paper on a second independence referendum.

Following defeat at the first independence referendum I was told by a senior SNP advisor that the new leader’s first priority was to locate and recruit a team of world-class economists on five-year contracts. Their remit would be a simple one: you have five years to come up with a viable currency plan and to spin the GERS figures in our favour.

Having watched Eurovision on Saturday and observed how nations big and small believe it to be a significant indicator of national pride and identity I would like to see Nicola recruit a team of Scottish song-writers and lyricists. Their task would be a simple one: come up with a sure-fire Eurovision winner that can be included in the second white paper on Scottish independence. An independent Scotland would, of course, be granted entry to Eurovision; but we’d also have to be in it to win it.

I’d get a message out now to Billy Sloan, Scotland’s national deejay, to gather some of his contacts and tell them that their country needs them. I think it should be a rocky number too and not one of those fey and winsome Coldplay tunes. We’d want to announce to the world that the Scots are back in town very loudly and leaving no one in any doubt whatsoever. This is the nation, after all, that has given the world Nazareth, Frankie Miller, AC/DC, Big Country, The Silencers and the Jesus and Mary Chain.

I’m looking for lyrics about Bannockburn, Culloden and the Battle of Stirling Bridge or about bloody betrayal, serious women, alcohol, Westminster perfidy and total bankers.

Wouldn’t it be great to be able to say in a white paper: “We believe that an independent Scotland can take its rightful place in the Eurovision family. And, as befits a country of our serious song-writing and singing talent, we believe that independence will propel Scotland to the ultimate Eurovision prize. Never again will the cry of ‘nul points’ stalk the nightmares of Scotia’s children.”