Now Katie's been saved for the fuckin' fourth time
No slight misdemeanour, a right cuntin' crime!
In seeking attention this talentless twat
Displays all the traits of a right spoilt brat.
This fame hungry monster annoys with a flair
Much greater of course than that big wispy hair
Her straining and whining are rather obscene
We're tired of her drama, and Katie's no queen!
How utterly awful, how utterly shit
The crappy pink jacket that didn't quite fit
Not quite mediocre, not quite worth a yawn
It's Paije whose departure I'd truly not mourn.
By kicking out Aiden the public saw sense
Rejecting his claim of "I'm just so intense"
That's bollocks and bullshit and all that you bring
The truth is quite simple, you can't fuckin' sing.
As Katie looks on at the sharpening knives
Another week passes and Wagner survives
He can't sing for toffee, he's shit through and through
His presence is causing a hullabaloo.
Rebecca is stuck with two kids on her own
A state of affairs that she likes to bemoan
We're somehow expected to all be impressed
She's managing "Scouse-ly" to not be depressed.
The judges give views while she stands there agog
And finds herself nodding like 'Churchill' the dog
Well, yes, she can sing, and she has her own twist
It's nasal and taints every song on the list.
Departure for Treyc means all is now well
Her voice was okay but she just couldn't spell
It didn't work out, she did not make her mark
It's true to confirm there was no fuckin' spark.
When Cher sings a song there's a 9 in 10 chance
She'll rap and annoy with that one-footed dance
She's nowhere as good as the hype would suggest
We're still working out whom she's truly impressed.
Goodbye Belle Amie, it was always a 'No'
Just four extra people to pad out the show
You're almost forgotten, that's just how it is
An answer, perhaps, in a trivia quiz.
Hail Mary from Tesco, oh please don't "bogof"
We like that you're normal, in no way a toff
And so it's a pity your limits are clear
There's one type of song that you want us to hear.
It's Matt who's most likely to flourish and win
A painter who does what it says on the tin
He's tipped in the papers, the best of the crowd
While Wagner just grins with his head in a cloud.
And so to the band with a chance to excel
The target of teenagers screaming so well
They want One Direction and squeal with delight
Although all the singing's no more than "all right".
While Dermot is droning and Simon is smug
The Cole from New Castle might manage a shrug
She's useless and may as well fuck off for lunch
Or else find a toilet attendant to punch.
There's nothing much good or much bad to be said
Of Dannii Minogue or the stuff in her head
Not quite an endorsement, I think you will sigh
In fact she adds nothing but one extra "i".
But just to her right is the featherweight Elf
Who talks utter shit while in love with himself
Does anyone care that he cannot be heard?
Well, 'No', he is best when we can't catch a word.
We watch Simon pause for dramatic effect
But gone is his honesty, now I detect
He's playing some games and he's not being fair
While Gamu's at home in a state of despair.
While Wagner gropes Mary and Katie feels stressed
Rebecca flaps fingers and Paije 'does his best'
They Cher One Direction, a chart-topping hit
My money's on Matt, as the others are shit.
Copyright TMWSC
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