After last week's unentertaining tosh, I found further frustration in the news, where Chloe Paige was criticised for wearing a Bindi. As is so often the case, there were people who decided it was appropriate to claim this was ignorant, and disrespectful of religious views. What the cuntin' fuck? Get a life, whingers, and leave her to wear what she wants.
Also in the news has been the alleged flop of X-Factor this year, what with audience figures having dropped significantly from last year. Maybe Dermot O'Really knew more than he let on, and timed his exit to perfection? Meanwhile, we are locked into ColeDitz, squashed in with Ki-Ora and forced to bear it with GrinShaw.
Simon Cowell will need to wake up, sooner rather than later, and take notice that his flagship show is fast becoming a lame duck. The whole thing is a mess, with those on the payroll all conforming to the ways of a clique that is now hogging our screens. Simon likes it that he's nicked Rita from the BBC, and had a chance with Louis departing to give Nick Grimshaw a spot - someone in whom he has an interest, what with his 'links' to Harry. Keeping him sweet is somewhere in the mix, as SC protects his investment.
Then there's Cheryl Cole-Veranda-Tortellini-Tweedy, whose presence is unfortunate. The crying machine is irritating, and irritating and . . . . . well . . . . . irritating. Rita of course looks good, but I have little energy for any generosity in my views on the X-Factor, which is itself as tired as a sedated sloth. Maybe some controversy will wake us all up.
In the wings are Olly Murs (whose mate was crap) and Caroline Flack. While Olly is clearly beholden to Simon, Flack is another who is being 'looked after'.
Tonight's Shenanigans
Far too long was spent on the Olly Stalker/Clone, and after his awful first song, his second choice effort was yet another cliche version of Uptown Cunt. He got through but was lucky. Then we went to a fucking ad break! WTF?
Flaxen, a northern duo, nauseated me next. These two clodhoppers opted for a Rihanna song - always a bad move. The inclusion of fire was pathetic. Cheryl was unable to speak, a benefit indeed.
Eighteen minutes in, and three shite acts have wasted my time. Then we had the arrival of Alien. The VT ate a few more minutes, as we saw that the six were 'zany' and fun. They started singing and moving, and were certainly original - even if a bit flat. Obviously marketable, so Simon was always going to give a positive reaction. Cheryl said "a-e-i-o-u", before Simon said he was 'excited'.Break time allowed me to get a can of lager.
A bloke called Zen, who actually tried to sing, and was 'okay' was up next, meaning we hit the 30-minute stage having seen a whole five performers. Next up was Danny, who wailed a bit, and the women liked him - I include Grimshaw in that.
The next guy (Simon) was from the Isle of Man, and Rita Ora asked him if that was near the Isle of Wight. Dozy fucker! He apparently sang at "the odd Christmas event and the odd party" - so, at odd venues, then. His voice, though, was very good, and he was certainly the best of the evening so far. Well done.
Audition Seven - Dental Nurse, with good teeth. Shianne got off to a wobbly start singing a Whitney song, and it got no better as it went on. The wailing did not mask the nerves or the bum notes. "I'm ready to work hard, I got fired from my job, I will work hard" - yawn. How the fuck she thought that pleading was a good idea I don't know.
Audition Eight - Stephanie opted for a Taylor Swift nursery rhyme. The song choice was horrendous. Thankfully Simon put his hand up after twenty seconds and saved her . . . and me from having to listen to it. Her second choice was super but instead of a subtle, and even nonchalant, delivery of the song, we went for a wailing, squealing ear-scraping effort. She got through - an hour into the show.
I recall that last Sunday's hour-long programme gave us eight acts, so 8 per hour is clearly the going rate. Stevie came on and sang quite well, getting four yeses. The VT for the overly long lead-up to the next act was nauseating. Bupsi then started singing, managing a sentence before Simon put is hand up. The second effort was certainly entertaining!
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