Not Another Eurovision (BBC1)

ANY other time and this half-hour time-filler, taking the mickey out of the Eurovision Song Contest, would pass with hardly a comment. But since presenter Angus Deayton's elevation to Sunday tabloid celebrity, it will be scrutinised more closely, even if it was recorded before his liaisons with a prostitute were outed.

There were no tell-tale clues to his

misdemeanours - just an unfortunate comment. "While I have had my share of show business embarrassment, I am most definitely not this man seen mincing around the banjo for Spain in 1987," declared Deayton (in a script written with Danny Baker) as a clip of the aforementioned mincer was shown.

Now, that's the least of Deayton's worries. As a man who makes a living out of mocking other people's peccadilloes, he's a sitting target for being made fun of himself. By the time the next edition of Have I Got News For You is over, he'll wish he was that Spanish mincer.

Not Another Eurovision itself poked fun at the annual song contest. An easy enough task, one that we've all done at one time or another. Strangely, that doesn't seem to deter millions of us from watching it year after boring year.

Deayton recalled that Britain came fourth in the first competition back in 1956 with a song called I'm Waiting For A Little Wink - "give or take a certain vowel, it's the sort of thing George Michael might record today," joked Deayton.

He quite rightly pointed out that, musicially, the Eurovision Song Contest occupies a planet of its own.

And that Katie Boyle, who presented the early contests, spoke so poshly she made Camilla Parker Bowles sound like Waynetta Slob.

No opportunity was wasted to point out the competition's defects, such as the often repetitive lyrics. Cue clips of songs from Ireland, Spain, Turkey and Finland with lyrics venturing no further than "la, la, la, la, la". Another lyric translated mysteriously as "your breasts are like swallows a-nesting". Clearly written by a twitcher.

After one particularly gruesome group of excerpts, Deayton concluded it was "tempting to call them a mixed bag, but not true as they were uniformly attrocious".

The quirks of the voting - which always seems to last longer than the actual singing - were pointed out. I particularly liked the exchange in which the host asked one jury chairman, "Can I have your vote?", only to be told in no uncertain terms, "I don't have it".

And so it went on: Norway's nil points, Denmark's pregnant singer, Spain's false start; Dana International falling over while presenting the prize to the winner.

Deayton concluded, again not unjustly, it was not about contestants, Europe or even songs. "Beyond cool, beyond style, beyond belief," he said - summing up not only the contest but his private activities too.

Naked Flame 2, Darlington Civic Theatre

Darlington Civic Theatre is quite liberal in providing entertainment primarily for women, and although there were one or two men in the audience for this comedy by Peter Benedict, the majority were girls out for a giggle.

Unfortunately, there weren't many giggles to be had in the first half. Although there were some funny lines, the 'adult' humour came over as the sort of thing you might overhear in the boys' changing rooms at an under-16 rugby tournament.

Former Gladiator James Crossley bared his bottom fairly early on, drawing whoops of enthusiasm from the audience, but if they thought the play's title meant acres of male flesh on display they were disappointed. Crossley seems a good-natured chap; he didn't appear to mind that the script required him to make a complete idiot of himself.

The plot, flimsy in the extreme, concerned mistaken identity and a team of firefighters trying to conceal their juvenile behaviour from their senior officer.

The second half resorted to slapstick, with people hiding in cupboards and under beds, and jokes revolving around intimate body piercing and inflatable sheep.

The finale looked like an afterthought, starting off with raunchy music and firefighters in uniform giving the audience smouldering looks. It ended up with people prancing about in underpants and wellington boots, and one character dangling a large fake penis from the headgear held in front of his body.

I resisted the invitation to meet the cast in the bar afterwards; I would have thought they'd want to leave the theatre as quickly as possible. I know I did.