As far as names go, the most of the judges on X-Factor have a sensible approach, with Louis Walsh and Simon Cowell going for the traditional angle of two names, and no deviations on an almost annual basis. Mel B has managed quite well with one abbreviation, followed by a single letter. All this is more than counterbalanced by the other one, currently know as Cheryl Sachet de Varnish, or something similar.
Cheryl Cole Tweedy Versini (or CCTV for short) sees everything, as you'd expect. I Don't Care is her latest single, and I must say that the feeling is completely reciprocated. I am not so sure that her powers of hearing are up to much, though, and that goes for the others as well. How some of the contestants ever got picked is baffling. The biggest obscenity is that after a week of the live shows, and a double ejection, there are still fourteen fucking acts thinking they have a chance of filling the £2 per CD basket in Morrisons early next year.
Yesterdays' paper included a note about illness in the house that the 317 contestants are sharing, and there are apparently a number of 'singers' whose voices are at risk to the point where producers have ordered them to stay silent. What a fantastic approach; let's hope that the orders are NOT rescinded in time for tonight's marathon. Among the alleged victims are Ben Haenow, Jake Quickenden and rather less worryingly James Graham. While Ben and Jake are solo performers, James is one of the 8-strong rabble that makes up Stereo Kicks, and surely there's no fucking way it'll make any difference if they drop down to seven! In fact, for the first live show, only four were on stage for the first 20 seconds, before four more from school assembly joined in. That proved to be initially 4 too many, and latterly, 8 too many.
In the same newspaper article, it was reported that Lola Saunders is on antibiotics, while Stephanie Nala has been told she must rest her voice or face losing it. To be honest, I thought she'd been resting her voice since August, and any loss of it would pretty much go unnoticed by me. Meanwhile, Chloe Jasmine [no, that's not the name of a Yankee Candle, but the blonde bird who thinks she's a reincarnation of Princess Di] has a severely swollen foot, and I wonder if the foot is a forerunner for the ego. Anyway, it seems she trod on some glass. Silly moo; I though we'd seen the last of bare feet, after Diana Vickers found some sandals in Oxfam a few years ago.
The X-Factor soap opera is underway, and the inane stories, and overuse of the word "amazing" will only be superseded in the annoyance stakes by the participants' continual assertions that they are:
1 - Having Fun [sorry, not fucking interested in that lame input]
2 - Working so hard [work? Yeah, right. Do you want a pat on the back or what?]
3 - Desperate to make family proud of them [yawn]
4 - Not wanting it all to end [yawn]
5 - Doing what they've always wanted to do, and that it means everything to them [zzzzzzzzz]
We could probably cut now to Andrea Faustini, Fleur East, Ben Haenow, Lauren Platt and Chloe Jasmin. That would mean the whole thing could be wrapped up in three weeks instead of the looming two months.
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