The first up was an eighteen year-old, who sang nothing special. Meghan Trainor turned. Sadly not away from us and off stage, but in her chair. We then had to witness a sobbing hug before the adverts came on.
Second up was another young woman who wanted to make her parents proud; well there's a novelty, eh? She wiggled around and shouted, mostly out of tune. Yet, willie-am and the awful Trainor woman turned around straight away. Right at the end, Murs and Jones also turned, the parents had a fit, and Willis wailed as normal. Olly made a joke about Tom not knowing what she was singing, plus he made the compulsory reference to Tom being "Sir Tom Jones". She went with willie-am.
Another break arrived to provide more by way of entertainment than The Voice. The music from the Boots advert was great, and this was followed by equally good noise from the McDonald's advert and then Sia singing as Natalie Portman pranced around and fell off a pier. Even the Coors Light advert was bearable. Miss Dior gave us another 10-second blast of Sia, and I was thus reminded that some people do actually have a voice and can sing.
Back to the shit, and a bit of shit banter preceded only the third applicant, a 31-year-old named Priscilla, who is apparently a "full time mum". I was under the impression that any woman with a kid is actually a mum, 24 hours a day...... so full time. Her speaking voice was hard to listen to, so for her sake I was hoping her singing was rather better. The face pulling got underway, this time not just by the four coaches, but Priscilla herself. She wobbled, shouted and sweated through the messy 'song' and offended my ears. No one turned, thank goodness. "What happened? What went wrong?" asked Priscilla to the cameraman afterwards. "You were shit, luv," said I. The coaches sat analysing things, and talking bollocks.
The fourth woman in a row was another mum, who works, so is she a full time mum? Anyway, her two kids were sweet enough. She wailed more than Willis ever could, and sang shit about Jesus and the Holy Ghost. I couldn't hear all the words, but apparently it's a spiritual world. All I know is this woman made a complete cunting racket. Only willie-am turned around - idiot. "You completely got my attention from the first word you sung," said the illiterate Olly. No shit, Sherlock - she shouted like fuck! Tom mumbled "strong" and "powerful", as he's prone to do, then returned to his semi-comatose state.
Dementia Sets In
After the break, the coaches sucked each other off while we listened to sycophancy and cringeworthy crap. Then a bloke appeared, as contender number five. A self-indulgent chap bared his soul to us, while bigging himself up, ahead of singing his own song. He was no James Blunt, but I suspect he aspires to be. "Take Me Home" was the song, and nobody did. He left. "That was a definite mistake," said Tom. "He was good" said Tom. "What am I doing here?" said Olly. The four returned to self congratulation, and story telling. Name dropping by Tom was up and running. Olly primed Uncle Tom for a song, and Tom was enticed to sing. "It's Not Unusual" was delivered to all by Tom. It's certainly not unusual for us to be served up such a dysfunctional show.
Wailing Willis announced details of a competition, and how to spend two quid hoping to win. Break time arrived. At the hour mark, the sixth singer appeared on stage, and I considered the throughput for a moment. Five so far had sung for two minutes each, so ten minutes in all. The other fifty minutes had been consumed by adverts, VTs and the shit exchanged between the coaches. Criminal.
Number six was a seventeen year old girl, and I hoped the Pastor's daughter was not too churchified, especially as her name was Blessing. She was good; Olly turned around. The other three whinged and tried feebly to explain why they didn't turn around. "You're a baby," said Trainor Woman.
I felt privileged to be served the seventh contender without ITV needing a break first; two singers in one segment of the programme. Sixteen year old Holly was next up, a Scottish girl who was nervous as fuck. "Is she going to be a whiner or a shouter?" asked Mrs MWSC. I offered no opinion. It turned out to be neither. She warbled and adopted a silly mumbling voice. However, she veered off into some shouting a bit. Trainor Woman and Olly both turned around. They all marvelled at her being sixteen, as though a sixteen year old has never before sung a fucking song. Trainor Woman whined, and talked utter shit in her pitch to be her coach. The Glaswegian picked Trainor Woman, and so began her journey to dementia.
Trainor Woman
After the final ad break, we were set for the eighth person, who turned out to be the second bloke of the evening. Little Olly and Uncle Tom both turned, and Wailing Willis hugged the family stage-side. Apparently Trainor "panicked" and should have turned. It's just pressing a fucking button, dear. Its been put right in front of you, big and red, so stop bleating - it's the one thing you are there to do, press if you like someone's voice. He went with Tom.
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