30.12.15 Gorilla Gawping

Who'd be a Rwandan gorilla, eh?  Talk about a heavy schedule.  These poor chaps are in such demand that they don't even get a break at Christmas. Someone at ITV has really fucked up this year.  First the decision was made to let Steve Bishop loose in the jungle to gawp at gorillas.  Second, the same cunt decided to let Griff Rhys Jones out of his cage to tell us that it will yet again be alright on the night.

The gorillas obviously had to check their Filofaxes to give Bishop a slot, because they most certainly have little respite from people all over the globe trotting to Rwanda, gnashing their teeth, and being desperate to endanger the endangered species.  What with Joey Essex recently being pointed in the direction of some gorillas, I would have thought the primates would have banned UK visitors.  Still, if every country is sending idiots, comedians, survival nobs and 'celebrities' to have a gawp, then the 365 days in the year must be well and truly spoken for.

It was probably a blessing for the Rwandan tribe to learn that the BBC had used its allotted time, what with Attenborough scratching around every year, and that Gordon Buchanan had booked with the Grauer Gorillas of the Democratic Republic of Congo.  Still, at least he is a wildlife cameraman, rather than someone with no business bothering a chimp, let alone a gorilla.  So, back to Bishop, then.  He's a nice enough chap, even if he does speak at 1.3 mph, and labour every joke more than the warden in a fucking prison camp getting inmates to split rocks.  There is no excuse, though, for sending a comedian to the jungle, when he opts not to be funny at all.  The logic is nuts and the reasoning bananas.  ITV may as well have sent Barbara Windsor - in fact, that would have been Jackpot Cunting Joy for all, surely?  [Obviously with NO cameras and NO return ticket]

Tonight, Griff Rhys Jones will hog the ITV screen, causing more offence than Michael Bublé and his crooning, let alone the accented 'e'.  Still, Bublé only seems to escape his bubble at Christmas, so perhaps I ought to be thankful. GRJ gets rather more (too much) exposure for my liking.  He is basically as pointless as 2012 remake of the Spiderman film.  Yesterday ITV showed The Amazing Spider-Man (2012) which added completely fuck-all to the 2002 original, and no doubt cost many millions to make.

Channel 5 has, for New Year's Day, lined up Greystoke: The Legend of Tarzan, Lord of the Apes.  Sadly it has been "edited for blood and violence". This cautionary note is, I think, confirmation that the cunts have removed some of the original film, rather than put some extra portions in.  This tampering is despicable, and wholly out of order.

On a final 'gorilla' note, I saw that Greg Wallace proved himself to be a twat on Masterchef - not that there was ever any doubt whatsoever.

...

30.12.15 The Fucking Festivity Factor

It seems to be the case that 'Festivity' climaxes on 24th December.  I say this for good reason, and in the light of a review of my TV listing that covers the period from Saturday 19th December through to Friday 1st January.  Over the two weeks, on the five main terrestrial TV stations, the compilers of the schedules have chosen to include the word Festive in a way that begged further investigation.

The reason for my delving stemmed from the annoyance felt through seeing the relentless use of this word when there was little need for such.  The unwarranted prevalence of this often superfluous, useless and pointless word drove me to check on the usage in a more calculated way.  First, though, let's have a look at some examples of the text in the guide.

Keep It in the Family - A festive-themed edition of . . . . . .
Porridge - Festive special, with Ronnie Barker.
Best Christmas Bakes Ever - Jane Asher introduces festive recipes . . . .
The Christmas Big Sing - . . . . festive music from the Royal Albert Hall
Countryfile: Cornish Coastal Christmas - Festive reports from Truro . . . .
Simply Nigella: Christmas Special - A guide to stress-free festive cooking . . . .
Ice Age: A Mammoth Christmas - Festive spin-off . . . .
Mock the Week Christmas Special - A festive edition . . . .
My Crazy Christmas Obsession - . . . . who take festive decorating to the extreme.
The Supervet at Christmas - Festive edition . . . .
A Question of Sport Christmas Special - A festive edition . . . .
All Star Mr & Mrs - Festive special . . . .
Posh Pawn at Christmas - . . . . struggles to get into the festive spirit.
Celebrity Come Dine with Me - . . . . get into the party spirit in a festive special.
The Simpsons - Four tales celebrating the festive season.
Can't Pay? We'll Take It Away! Christmas Special - moral dilemmas during the festive period.
The Snowman - . . . . festive tale . . . .
Jamie's Night Before Christmas - . . . . festive dishes . . . .
My Crazy Christmas Lights - . . . . festive lights . . . .
Rude Tube Christmas Cracker - . . . . 50 festive internet clips.
Through the Christmas Keyhole - Keith Lemon has a festive rummage . . . .
Christmas with the Double Acts - An hour of festive fun . . . .
Chas & Dave's Xmas Knees Up! - Festive entertainment from 1982.

Are you bored yet?  Most probably.

The spread of the word Festive during the 14 days of television throws up the following results:

The fifty instances of "Festive" show a clustering on Christmas Eve, when there was the most use of the word.  The other finding was a most definite recognition of each channel's level of festivity.  Channel 4 was by far the most festive, followed by ITV, then Channel 5.  The BBC has clearly lacked festiveness this year.

...

13.12.15 X-Factor Final - Part 2: Sunday

Tunnels, Exchange Rates, Tears and Comedy

The nation's task was to decide on an X-Factor winner, from the remaining two acts - one of them a rather talented individual who, though disposed to giving rather formulaic renditions of popular songs, clearly has a future as a singer, and, the other act a farcical coupling that emits out-of-tune noise that has somehow managed not so much to light Cheryl's fire, but flamethrower her fucking bush!  Why she seems intent on adulating the two children's entertainers presented as Reggie 'N' Bollie I simply do no know.  Would the UK decide to go with the singer, Louisa Johnson. or the comedy act, and thus fuck up the last dribble of integrity that the show retains?

Lauren Murray  and  Rotherhithe Tunnel

This week, we have learned that Lauren Murray never wants to do another reality show, and it is a sad state of affairs that she had not come to this conclusion before she decided on entering X-Factor this year.  The headline of "Lauren slams Cheryl" was interesting until I realised this was not a report on a wrestling bout; a missed opportunity for real entertainment, I'd say!  I noticed, while reading this claptrap there was a link to yet more non-newsworthy stuff via the following:

Read more: Caroline Flack reveals that it’s a lot harder to be a woman on TV

Well, the solution is simple - get off the cunting telly!  The same really ought to be said of Wally Murs.  He is without doubt a nice guy, but that's clearly in no way a qualification to be given the job of co-hosting a show on television.  Aside from the weird version of English that he speaks, I am convinced the sparring between his two brain cells is affecting his ability to say anything that an ear might be remotely interested in receiving.

Polymers - chemical compounds that are made of small molecules that are arranged in simple repeating structures to form larger molecules [simple definition]

Olly Murs - a comical compound made up of tiny molecules, who simply repeats himself, with no structure, to form the output of a mule [simple]

Last night, Cheryl Fer-fuck-sake-Tweedy was introduced by voice-over man as "flawless", which just proves how misdirected ITV is.  Anyone who speaks that fucking slowly needs more than a nudge, although it does mean she gets less shit from her brain to her mouth to my ears.  The other actual flaw was Olly referring to Rod Stewart as "rock royalty".  Most-used word of the night was "amazing" (67), devaluing the word on all exchange markets.  The latest exchange rate actually puts one "amazing" as equal to 0.72 of a "cunt".


Tonight got underway with Olly claiming there was a contestant called Louisa Johnstone.  Good to see he'd done his research, even if elocution lessons are not yet booked.  I suppose I am being a tad unfair, and that this little slip was just the latest in a list of 142.  The recap of last night's performances reminded me why Wedgy 'N' Bollocks are the novelty act of the year.  The finalists then all lined up for a communal warble 'n' wail.  Downtown was served up as a warning to anyone silly enough to be considering seeing the X-Factor Tour.  It was worse than the finale of any primary school play.  I realised that fifteen minutes in, I'd wasted 15 minutes of my life - then it was time for a break.

J'abhor Dior

Coldplay arrived next.  It probably sounded better for those in the arena.  I can't say I thought it was up to much, other than slightly self indulgent.  As for the participation of gorillas, WTF?

CCTV introduced Budgie 'N' Goalie, who told us they would be singing a One Direction song.  So, things could get worse.  The vocals were fucking dire.

As ever, it was a 'mash-up' and so after an awful 90 seconds, the noise progress to them telling us that they liked to 'move it, move it for another minute. The cheering was insane, so I suspect there are many subversive people trying to destroy the show.  Time for another ad break.

Schwartzkopf Live Colour - Built-in Vibrancy Serum my arse!

Louisa told us it's a man's world again, and did so at 152 decibels for the most part.  I wish she'd picked something else.  Clearly better than R'N'B, of course. Simon told us she is seventeen.  Rita felt the need to tell us this as well.  Time for another break.

Rihanna: Anti World Tour - Well I won't be going to that!  I'll be at the Anti Rihanna Event.

One Dimension were on next, to sing to their fans, predominantly 6-to-13-year-olds.  It was pretty awful, and if this is supposed to be the best group in the world, then there are clearly too many 6-to-13-year-olds on the planet.  A second song was for some reason required, and 'History' was ironically the choice, ahead of their break from performing.  I wonder if history is what they'll be.  It mainly depends on what happens regarding the disclosures on certain matters of sexuality, I reckon.  Time for a break.

That man on the moon is annoying as hell; nearly as annoying as John Lewis suggesting to kids everywhere that the moon is that fucking close.

Olly welcomed us back and managed to refer to "Louisa Donson".  First up with the winners single were the two lads, who proved beyond any fucking doubt that they can sing for toffee.  I absolutely pissed myself through the whole cunting racket.  If they were auditioning at the outset with this crap, they'd be ejected by security.  COMEDY GOLD !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  Lovely people without question, but is that enough to win a national competition like this?

Louisa managed to sing it without defaulting to comedy version.  All rather predictable, and I certainly won't be buying it, though.  Who rights these formulaic songs to be dolled out by a generic winner, and a troupe of backing singers?  The song is boring tripe.

I have just discussed with Mrs MWSC who is going to win, and neither of us give a toss.  I rightly blame Cheryl for so much, and she should be ejected. Another break.

Bleu de Chanel - no thanks.

Adele decided to torture me with 'Hello'.  I am already fed up of this song; it is everywhere.  The vote closed, and we were herded towards yet another break.

"When heavy cold or flu strikes, try Day & Night Nurse."  No.

The votes, counted and verified, were in.  "The winner of X-Facta two faaaarsand and fifteen is . . . . . . . .  Louisa Johnson"

Tears flowed, Rita wailed like a market trader on speed, and CCTFV annoyed. The competition came to an end, and the hype that was relentless would be subsiding at last.  The future of X-Factor looks grim, though.  I reckon Dermot O'Leary knew something.

Banksy's Latest Effort

Sadly for us all, there is going to be a final series next year.  Despite X-Factor being on its arse, and apathy reigning over voter-land, there will be one more deluded effort to squeeze the puss out of the UK's youth, and find a singer to head the boil.

...

12.12.15 X-Factor Final - Part One: Saturday

Did you know that the name 'Valerie' has seventeen syllables?  Neither did I. Apparently, though, that's exactly the required level of pronunciation according to Che Chesterman.  The first song of the evening was a rather limp warbling marathon, while every man and his hot dog was wiggling on stage as part of the backing troupe.  The performance overall was not quite good enough.

Reggie 'N' Bollox were next up, and I shuddered at the thought.  While I shuddered, I saw on the VT that two girls aged thirteen or so were screaming like mad ahead of a performance in Newcastle.  Poor delinquents.  When it came to them (allegedly) singing, the pair of them made Louis Walsh's Wagner sound like Andrea Bocelli.  "That was a bit cruise ship for me," said Rita. Shame they aren't on one, in the Pacific.

Louisa believed she could fly, and told us this many times in a rather boring effort, backed up by so many singers on stage.  In fact the number of backing singers was the same as the syllables in Che singing 'Valerie' four times.  The crowd cheered, though not as loudly as when Budgie 'N' Bollox finished. Cheryl Tweedy felt the need to tell us Louisa is seventeen years old.  Simon Cowell called her an angel, and then reconfirmed to us that Louisa is seventeen years old.

There was a break from the singing next.  The interruption to any form of entertainment came from Ben Haenow, proving that total mediocrity can triumph on X-Factor.  Fortunately we had Leona Lewis joining in.  Even then, though, the twosome made a combined racket that I could have done without. Ben, you were super . . . . superfluous, that is!

Then it was Flack's turn to talk shit.

Fracking is the process of drilling down into the earth before a high-pressure water mixture is directed at the rock to release gas inside.  Water, sand and chemicals are injected into the rock, allowing the gas to flow to the head of the well.

Flacking is the process of drilling into people's heads with a high-pressure mixture of bollocks and waffle, until you're driven to want to gas her. Annoyance is injected, and the desire for silence wells up until you are about to explode.

Che was then brought out for his second attempt at winning our votes.  The slightly more sedate delivery was welcome, although when he introduced Rod Stewart, I went to the loo, knowing I'd heard it all before.

Next up, Veggie 'N' Wally, and a complete fucking racket.  I'd no idea who the other bloke was who joined in half way through, but he wasn't much better.  As a trio, it was a joke.  Then I discovered it was Craig David, and wondered what his motivation was for associating himself with this auditory assault.

Louisa was then on stage and joined by Rita.  Of the two, I'd say that Louisa was the better!

Then there was a complete fuck-up by ITV.  This resulted in there being no recap, so, hardly any loss, eh?  Flack fracked her way to introducing Fleur East and Little Mix, who mashed something up on stage.  After that, we had the five minute warning.

It turned out that the warning was for the second worse act of the night. Obviously Dodgie 'N' Collie were the worst, but Rod Stewart pushed them hard for the honour.  Flack sucked up to him, with the usual chit-chat at the end of his noise.

Ten minutes after Olly's five-minute warning, he was back with Flack to introduce back on stage the three acts and the judges.

RESULT: Louisa was first to be named safe, followed by R'N'B.  This left Che in third place.  Who the fuck is voting for Stodgie 'N' Rollie?

...

7.12.15 For One Light Only

Last night, I noticed while driving for just five minutes, five cars that had only one headlight working.  As an experiment, on the way to work this morning, I counted the cars I saw with just one headlight working, and was absolutely amazed to count them over a 66-minute period.  55!  This is absolutely criminal. On the return, I counted 40.

These figures exclude all the cars with one headlight working, but pointing in the wrong direction.

Once upon a time, drivers felt obliged to give a shit, and in turn, the police were interested in maintaining standards on the road.  These days, no fucker seems to worry about driving a defective car at night, and the police are too busy trying to catch those speeding at the expense of all other levels of input.

The only benefit of this phenomenon is that counting defective headlights at least relieves the boredom of a testing journey.

...

6.12.15 X-Factor: Semi-Final Result

Cheryl Cole-Tweedy

The judges took to the stage, and Cheryl Fandango Verruca was dressed in yellow, in a totally impractical dress.  On her right shoulder, I noticed something odd, and Mrs MWSC simultaneously made mention of the same.  I suggested it looked like a dead armadillo, while Mrs MWSC settled on a tumour!

The communal song got under way, with Louisa sounding great.  Che was next to start singing, and was fine.  Then the wailing Lauren grated my brain.  What was left of my brain was then exposed to Budgie 'N' Bollox, who had no business being on stage.

Flack was flanked by her shadow, Olly Murs.  Jason Derulo was introduced with more hype than I've ever seen for a performer.  I then endured some sort of generic noise that was supported on stage by a running advert for everything and anything in red and black.  Whoever kicked Jason in the nuts just before he came on was accurate as fuck, leading to a high-pitched whine in his range of squeaks.

"Be an individual," said Jason, after his performance of a generic, unimaginative, cliche song.  After more adverts, we finally got to a performance from Sia, someone who is most certainly individual and interesting.  Yet more adverts followed, and I think we are all now supposed to have forgotten completely about TalkTalk managing to lose millions of records to computer hackers.

Flack announced that over three million votes have been recorded.  That's pitiful, considering anyone with the App will be able to vote five times for nothing, instead of paying via mobiles.  In essence, there are likely to be no more than half a million people in the UK who give a shit.

Into the final =

Veggie 'N' Bollox 
Louisa Johnson

I have no idea on the exact maths, but clearly there are about 200,000 nutters in the UK, whose hearing is defectrive, leading to VFRNBS.  This serious and debilitating disease does not unfortunately lead to inactivity, but a ludicrous growing desire during November and December to vote irresponsibly.  I blame ITV for not reminding viewers about possible help from the Samaritans, and via voteaware.co.uk, which supports the 'Vote Responsibly' mantra.

* VFRNBS = Vote For Reggie N Bollie Syndrome

This left Che to fend off Lauren Murray in the head to head.  "She's intoxicating," said Rita when introducing Lauren.  No, Rita, infuriating.  Lauren shouted and wailed, off key here and there, and confirmed her mouth is as wide as a goalmouth.  The performance was simply dreadful.  She bobbed up and down while shouting her tits of.  Che came on and sang a Simon and Garfunkel song that meant my ears could rest a bit after the assault by Lauren.  Despite his warbling and extended syllables, it was still better than Lauren's racket by a mile.

Cole sent Lauren home, leaving Simon to confirm Lauren's exit, or send it to deadlock.  The stupid twat milked it, and then bottled it by "letting the public decide".  WANKER, COWELL!

Lauren received the fewest votes from the public, so was rightly ejected. Meanwhile, Cowell was allowed to escape responsibility for not making a decision and being a wimp.  She fanked her mentor REET-aaah.

...

5.12.15 X-Factor: Semi-Final

Well, here again for another desperate portion of shite from most of the singers left in the competition.  It is a blessing that this series is to be the last one, after ITV bought the rights to The Voice.  I hope there is no attempt to squeeze in another run before the switch in schedules.

I despair at the quality of the show, seeing as the vocal quality is questionable. When did the standards drop?  Why were we not informed of the changes?   This week, we had input from Lionel Richie looking like a weird version of the chap who sang "Hello" in 1983, coincidentally called Lionel Richie as well.

ROUND ONE

Veggie 'N' Bollox

The show got off to an abysmal start, with the two nice chaps providing a serving of complete and utter crap.  There was not even any of that pathetic component that apparently makes anything shit okay - 'fun'.  Instead, we endured an awful noise.  Get real, UK!  NO ONE will buy their fucking album.  - 4/5  [That's MINUS FOUR]

Lauren Not Mint

Lauren Murray was horrendous.  "She looks like a mattress stuffed in a pillowcase," said Mrs MWSC and I had to agree.  More annoying, though, was the wailing that she was providing, which was complemented only by the howling gales that I could hear outside, as 'Desmond' (the name of this storm) did his stuff.  Some duff notes added minor variety to the racket.  0.5/5

Che Chesterman

The annoying pitch of this song (Would I Lie To You?) meant that I was turned off within seconds.  Yes, he has a talent, and a voice that can on occasion be superb.  However, when he sings at the high pitch and decides to outdo Lauren with the wailing, I actually think her deeper voice is more bearable - comparatively of course.  "You can sing anything you want," said Rita Bore-us-to-death.  I wish, therefore, that he had sung something else.  2.5/5

Louisa Johnson

Well, that showed the others, eh?  The performance was super and put the previous acts to shame.  No contest.  4.5/5


ROUND TWO

Che Chesterman

This effort was rather better than the first song, and I liked it.  The word 'iconic' was used by Tweedy, and then Cowell.  Cowell said it was 'ordinary'.  "How do you feel after them comments," said Olly, abusing the English language.  4/5

Louisa Johnson

It's a Man's World - I shuddered when I heard the song title, and then got annoyed when Louisa said "I'm interpreting this as girl power".  WTF?  Still, she is good, and it survived, by the skin of it's fucking teeth.  Too much wailing, though.  "You blew me away; how many times are you going to do this to me?" asked Rita.  "Until you fucking don't come back," said I, from my sofa.  2.5/5

Lauren Murray

"Running", she sang.  I puzzled at her lack of horizontal movement, and tried to work out what the squatting was all about while she finished on a couple of bum notes.  Cheryl talked shit.  Cowell talked shit.  Rita talked real shit, with a riddling of cliches.  1.5/5

Budgie 'N' Dolly

A "mash up" is for when doing one song properly is beyond the capabilities of a performer.  Fandango-Vagina thus opted for a mash-up for them.  The dodgy vocals persisted, along with some shouting.  I rushed to pre-order my copy of their album.  No - I cuntin' didn't!  The second half of the performance confirmed they liked to "move it, move it" and it was less annoying than usual.  The first song was so bad that it was impossible for them to get back the lost points and get positive.  2/5


TOTALS

Louisa 7.5
Che 6.5
Lauren 2.0
R & B Minus 2.0

...

22.11.15 X-Factor: The 4th Sunday

Wally Murs and Flack took to the stage to tell us "we are live" and I was in need of (and glad of) the clarification, because neither seemed capable of much.

The judges trotted on like the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, to the usual background noise (not Mason, though - haha).

The reminder of the six performances from last night proved that the efforts over on BBC1 of Anastacia and Take That in Strictly Come Dancing were abysmal, and so much fucking worse!  Still, all six being better than Take (Some of) That and the dire Anastacia does not really mean they are any good, though.

We Found Love In A Hopeless Place was the communal song from the six remaining acts, and they managed to combine badly.  I struggled to decide which of them was the worst - it was all rather desperate . . . as desperate as the song itself.  They are all better off avoiding any collaboration whatsoever.

Nathan Sykes 

Who? I asked myself, before the voice-over man told me he was in The Wanted.  I never wanted him in the first place, and I was even less needy tonight.  He mumbled his way through some bollocks or other, saying nothing of any consequence at all.  I endured it, waiting for the standing ovation from the four judges.  If they had any integrity, they would stay sitting down and confirm that had NS been a contestant, it would have been panned.

Yes, the Four Horsemen stood on cue, before Flack asked him something before his departure.

"It's incredibly tense, and one of the acts is going to be the winner of X-Facta two faarsand," said Wally.  

After the break, it was time to hear from him again, when he took to the stage. He was accompanied by 20 dancers, who did manage to provide a small dose of entertainment.  The plastic song and plastic performance from Polymers (get it?) was forgettable.

I wondered during the break whether to participate in the competition, and despite voice-over man's tempting offer and confirmation that the Mini Cooper has a "sports leather steering wheel," I decided against wasting any money, time or brain power.  Instead, I gave further thought to trying to understand what Tweedy-Cole was on about, with her comment that the competition is "open ended".  She meant that the result was hard to predict.  Hell, if it was 'open ended' then we'd not be shot of X-Factor in time for Christmas!

Flack confirmed that 3 million votes had been cast.  Well, considering five are free on the app, and many (gullible) people place multiple votes by phone and text, then I can guess that there are about half a million people who give a fuck.

Safe = Lauren Murray, Four Thimpact, Louisa Johnson and then Veggie 'N' Bollox.

That left Anton to sing against Che.  Talk about a non-contest.  Che bored me with his warbling output.  Clearly he has a talent, but that does not in fact translate always into being entertaining.  Anton arrived and sang very well, although I was tired of his twanging whine, so expected him to be going.

Rita talked about evolving, coming out, and kept Che, after the two had got a vote a piece.  That left CCTV to make her comment, and Che was duly saved.

...


 

22.11.15 The X-Factor Fernandez Rap

The CCTV Fernandez Rap


I'm ready to sing it
I'll smash it, I'll bring it
I'm going to give it my all
I'm having such fun and
Don't want to go home
So vote for me, please make the call.

That's right up my street and
A right proper treat and
Your nanna is so proud tonight
You killed it completely
You sang it so sweetly
I'm so good at uttering shite.

A E I O A E, pet
A E I O you
A A E and don't forget
Y I is Geordie too.

You brought it and smashed it
You killed it and mashed it
You knocked it right out of the park
You made it your own and
You took it to church
You nailed it and so made your mark.

I really enjoyed it,
You killed it, destroyed it
You smashed it with such a nice tone
You're my little poppet
And no one can top it
That's how to make something your own.

I really don't doubt you
There's something about you
The girls will all love you to death
Your hips are bionic
For me, that's a tonic
I'm flustered and all out of breath.

Your vocal was magic
The song choice was tragic
Your mentor needs shootin' for that
You've really worked hardon . . .
Oh, is that for me?
I need to be rubbin' me twat.

A E I O A E, yes
A E I O, ooo
A E E beneath me dress
Eee what's a girl to do?

If you're havin' fun
Then we're havin' fun
Your energy levels are high
You really don't know
Just how good you are
I like you a lot and here's why . . .

You brought it and smashed it
You killed it and mashed it
You knocked it right out of the park
You made it your own and
You took it to church
You nailed it and so made your mark.

The standard this year is
So high that my fear is
You might not stand out like you should
Beware of a crowd
When I left Girls Aloud
I found I was no fucking good.

You need to be tougher
Or else you could suffer
Stand up and be counted like me
So grasp independence
Or toilet attendants
Strike out with a fist and a knee.

A E I O A E, yes
A E I O, ooo
A E E, I've made a mess
Eee Eee, right on cue.

Fernandez Versini
While drunk on Lambrini
Forgot to forget she was Cole
Admitting when needy
Dispensing with Tweedy
'Twas Ashley whose name that she stole.

I'm Cheryl Fernando
Vagina Commando
My arse smells of roses in bloom
Contented, why aye, man
I sit next to Simon
Whose baby is tucked in me womb.*

You brought it and smashed it
You killed it and mashed it
You knocked it right out of the park
You made it your own and
You took it to church
You nailed it and so made your mark.


The Cheryl Cole Tweedy Versini Fernandez Rap
 ©TMWSC

* This is pure speculation

22.11.15 Lies & Impossibilities No.57

Mel Giedroyc is funny and talented

...

21.11.15 X-Factor: The 4th Saturday

Love and Heartbreak week

Che Che-etc

Thankfully it sounded nothing like the original by The Beatles.  Rather, it sounded a whole lot better.  "Will he be here tomorrow?" said Wally Murs, attempting a clever pun.

Anton Stephans

This effort was rather forgettable.  Vocally it was questionable.  The most entertainment came from Nick Grimshaw holding his own in a mildly awkward exchange with Simon Cowell in the aftermath.

4th Impact

"Next up, my four little sassy pants," announced Cheryl Tweedy.  We saw the VT and then the four dressed like The Stylistics were on stage.  The wailing was on cue.  CCTV argued against Simon, claiming the theme did not allow her to provide a basis for the four to show individuality.  The over-made-up Cheryl Cole Tweedy Versini struggle to make her pleas through the barricade of red lipstick.

Lauren Murray

"This week I'll be singin' We Belong Togevva," announced the girl whose mouth never closes.  Sadly we had to enjoy a second dose in one night of Mariah Carey.  Listening to the wailing pitch wore me out in seconds.  "That vocal is so natural to you," said CCTV, making no sense at all.  "She absolutely smashed that vocal," said Rita Borer.  "Obviously it's Mariah, innit," said Lauren to Flack.

Mason Noise

Horrendous.  "You're finally kind of sitting into your vibe," said Rita - WTF?  "I had fun," said Mason to Simon when asked how he thought it went.  That said it all, because having fun is a completely pathetic and meaningless contribution to anything.  It has no bearing at all on whether a performance was decent or not.

Louisa Johnson

Blimey, she can sing!  Amazing.  Of course, CCTV had to use the word "vocal" in her comment.  She is on a run that's better than Jamie Vardy's goal-scoring feat, going for consecutive mentions.

Reggie 'N' Bollie

Can no one acknowledge that the singing is dire?  This is X-Factor, and unless the X stands for 'Fun', then there is no point in anyone trying, or in the critiques after each act concludes its performance.  "The vocals were a bit iffy at the beginning," said Cowell.  Too right.  "Pure escapism," said Grim.  Yes, it was certainly that.


Backstage With Wally - This came to nothing, and the sole bit of information gleaned was that it was 'tense'.

"The act with the least number of votes," muttered Flack, confirming ignorance of the English language.  Then it was time for Sheeran and Rudimental. Someone needs to give the cleaners a decent bonus for clearing up the mess in the studio.

The ad-break included the touting of the latest Olly Murs hits album, with the on-screen footnote/caveat of "While Stocks Last".  What a pointless inclusion.

Everyone took to the stage for voting, and Flack announced them in turn.  I was strangely amused by her intro of "Simon Cowell and the remaining over".

"One of you has received the fewest number of votes," said Flack, reconfirming her inability to speak English.  That person was Mason Noise, and he was out.  As a parting threat, we were left in the knowledge that tomorrow, Wally Murs is singing.

...

21.11.15 Lies & Impossibilities No.56

"We invite you to sit back, relax and enjoy the flight."

[ RYANAIR ]


Needless to say that this constantly used phrase is a complete wind-up.  On each and any Ryanair flight, you will be invited to do these three things at least three times, despite all of them being beyond the reach of anyone with an active brain.

Sit back - hardly feasible considering there is no cunting room to sit forward, and thus no position from with to move backwards, as if the suggestion to do so has not occurred.  The minimal space means the sitting back option does not actually exist.

Relax - another piss-take, considering the fuckers running the show are incessantly touting shit, everything from drinks and snacks to phonecards, cigarettes, perfumes, cosmetics and gadgets, scratchcards and hot food. Further, there is always at least one cunt within earshot whose life story has apparently been demanded by the twat sitting in the next seat, thus allowing a constant cunting chatter at 109 decibels.

Enjoy - the final insult, as if the cattle-market, touting and rip-off prices were not irritants that prevent any enjoyment.  Then there is the inevitable over-enthusiastic person in charge of the cabin.  There are two options. (1) a woman with a high pitched voice that via your ears manages to petrify your bone marrow, while believing that the sing-song delivery makes her sound more natural! or, (2) the gay perfume-wearing chap who has ironed his jacket four times, and practised both his best mince and his affected speaking style ready for hogging the tannoy.  Aside from all of this, there will be a sufficient number of obese people on the plane to ensure that at a minimum of two stages in the journey, a big fucking arse will loom and get within 30mm of your nose, and another arse will effect a bodily assault as it smashes into either your shoulder, head or arm, as you innocently occupy your aisle seat.

...

19.11.15 X-Factor: 3rd Weekend

Weekend 3

Just when you thought that X-Factor cannot get any more boring, Movie Night arrived to wipe away any such notion.  Yes, the remaining hopefuls were expected to relay some warbling that has featured in a film - a task that was rather challenging for some.  I found myself agreeing with Simon Cowell on just one point during the Saturday night show - that 'Who Let the Dogs Out?' (from 'Rug Rats In Paris') was stretching credibility more than the elastic on Gemma Collins' bikini bottoms.

Cheryl Tweedy Versace Coal from Newcastle was particularly Geordie, mixed with twattish, after her "full props to you" declaration to one of the contestants - Monica, I think.  Olly Murs struggled equally with the English language, though from a more southern perspective of course.  Cowell grinned and acted like a pompous wazzock.  At the end of the table, Nick Grimmace was rather shiny; it seems someone in make-up had buffed him up a treat, leaving a plastic coating on his face, or so it seemed.  Then there was Rita, who really did look like she had consumed Ritalin an hour before the show. She was strangely dopey but was then prone to weird outbursts during the course of the show, talking complete rubbish.

Make Some Noise
He would have been better if he'd not made any at all

Louisa Johnson
A decent shot at the title if she keeps focused

Monica Michaels
Dreadful wailing, after last week's horrendous racket

4th Impact
Simply fucking terrible; the cacophony was ludicrously shite

Max Stone
The squinting, bland bloke was dreadfully forgetable

Anton Stephans
He sang okay, but hardly inspiring or entertaining

Veggie 'N' Bollox
These two chancers are nice chaps who have no business whatsoever being in the finals

Lauren
Average when singing, nauseating when speaking - which is all the fucking time!

Che Chesterman
Yes, point favourite, but what a boring fucking song that we've all heard 5341 times

The drama of a the collapse of a 4th Impact singer was only surpassed by the drama of a new-look Caroline Flack, with blonde hair.  She retained the same voice that could shatter crockery at a thousand paces, of course.  I felt minimal sympathy for the one who fainted, and felt nothing at all in respect of the blonde hair.

This show was, without doubt, an awful excuse for entertainment, and X-Factor may well find its days are numbered.  When will the organisers wake up and realise that eager hopefuls 'having fun' and telling us they don't want it to end is NOT a basis to take up so much time in the TV schedules? Wally Murs adds nothing to the show at all, and need not be standing next to Flack. In turn, Flack represents no real change in approach from the original host, Kate Thornton, who was in our faces and shrieking for England every few minutes.

So who is going home this weekend?  Obviously Veggie 'N' Bollox ought to be ejected, based on talent, although I find myself not really giving a damn.

Ejected

Max Stone and Monica Michaels - Hurrah !

...

9.11.15 People To Ignore

There are many people who for various reasons seem to command airtime, or space in the press, and whose views are quite simply "to be ignored".  Their contributions are quite simply either irrelevant, nauseating, annoying, wrong, cuntish, lame or pathetic.

Russell Brand
Bob Geldof
Emma Thompson
Charlotte Church
Anyone Kardashian / West / Jenner
Bono
Miley Cyrus
Nicole Scherzinger
Paddy McGuinness
Jeremy Corbyn
Tony Blair
Cherie Blair
Cara Delevingne
Sally Bercow
John Bercow
Mary Berry
Mel Giedroyc
All Religious Figures
Chloe Madeley
Kevin McCloud
Beyonce
Millie Mackintosh
Paul Scholes
Roy Keane
Paul Daniels
Tess Daly
Chris Evans
Karen Danczuk
Madonna

...

8.11.15 X-Factor: 2nd Weekend

Saturday Summary

Che Chesterman - Super singer and going somewhere
Louisa Johnson - Super and going somewhere; not as good as last week, mind
Reggie 'N' Bollie - Fun and in limited quantities, okay for the moment
Reggae Max - One dimensional chap who is not Bob Marley (someone tell him, please)
Anton Stephans - Wrong song and dire performance
Seann MM - Cabaret act, but worthy for the time being
Kiera Weathers - Weak or what?
Lauren Murray - Nothing very special this week; she can sing, yes, but I was bored
Monica Michael - Truly fucking awful
4th Impact -Energetic, but vocally dodgy this week
Mason Noise - Bieberesque bollocks

Cheryl Falutin-Lambrini

Sunday

Fleur was okay, followed by flowers all over the place via CeeLo Green. Yawn fodder, and what with Wally Murs and Frantic Flack pestering us with their voices, I struggled to gain any enjoyment from my TV.

The public vote threw up . . . . . well, I was going to say a shocking result, but actually, "threw up" says it all.  Mason, Seann MM and Keira were the last three standing.  Okay, Kiera Wevvers (as per Olly) was a worthy candidate, but the other two were not the worst.  Still, that is what makes the programme, at some level, entertaining.

After yet another infernal fucking break, we got the result out of the two untalented presenters: the first casualty was, of course, Kiera Wevvers.  That left Mason and Sean to sing.

SMM was voted off.

...

8.11.15 Yoghurt and Other Annoyances

As someone who can pronounce neither Muller nor Yoghurt, Nicole Shitslinger must surely be an horrendous choice of celebrity to promote Muller Yoghurt in the UK.

Clingfilm that does not cling - it is less than useless!

Non-German twats saying Uber instead of 'Super'.

Relentless emails from Ocado, offering a £20 discount voucher for my first online shop, when the company DOES NOT DELIVER to my address!

The 'terms' on-point and on-trend, neither of which should be permitted in the English speaking world.

McDonald's seems to think that I can stir in my sachets of sugar using a pathetic cunt of a stick that is 4mm wide!  WTF?

Use of the word Enjoy by those with no fucking business suggested I do so.  Most recently, this was the twat-head who handed me my McDonald's breakfast - a standard sausage and egg meal.

Selfie sticks, selfies, women pouting in selfies, people obsessed with taking selfies, the 'word' selfie.

...

1.11.2015 X-Factor: The First Weekend Show

Sadly I found that Saturday's content was flawed, and included so much formulaic tosh that my brain was withering while waiting to be stimulated.  The mutterings of the two hosts and the four judges were far more disappointing than the contributions from the contestants.  Laughable pronouncements and pontificating meant a typically crappy set of exchanges for the various performances.  A selection of the input is included below.

Saturday

Bollocks and Cliches Everywhere, with an Occasional Deficiency in Grammar!

I so have the winner in my category [Grimbore]
My girls are shtrong [Ora]
I might have the winner in my category, yes [Cowell]
A hundred faaaaarsand people applied [Wally Murs]
Our X-Factor finalists will be singing their heart out [Flack]
Every time I've seen you on TV you've been a mess [Aaron, the hair stylist]
I'm really, really excited [Lauren Murray]
What a way to kick off this season of X-Factor [Falafel Verruca]
I didn't like it, I loved it [Cowell]
You nailed it [Grimbore]
You killed that, Lauren [Grim]
Lauren, you smashed it [Wally Murs]
How nervous was you opening the show? [Murs]
Hopefully I brought it today [Lauren]
Simon needs to see that I've got a bit of charisma [Max Stone]
You made it your own [Ora]
The fact that you've took notes [Versini]
What a start to the show [Murs]
So, obviously it's the first week [an Alien]
Oh my God, what is going on? [Ora]
You honestly did represent yourselves up there tonight [Ora]
You smashed it [Falafel Vaseline]
It keeps getting better and better [Frack]
It's free, Olly, it's free [Frack]
I need to bring that performance [Ora]
Good moment, great moment [Ora]
You have a mouth like a tunnel when you sing [Cowell]
Ain't no mountain high enough [Che Chesterman]
Everybody in the UK get ready to fall in love with Mason Noise [Grim]
This is what you're meant to do [Grime]
You smashed it [Grimbore]
How do you feel after them comments? [Wally M]
J'know what [Ora]
J'know what, keep being you, man, keep being you [Rita Borer]
Pull up a chair, open them bag o'sweets [Murs]
It's definitely all I've ever dreamed of doing [Louisa Johnson]
You have no idea how good you are [Cowell]
That was incredible, it really, really, really was [Grim]
You created a moment then,it felt like a moment in here, I know that people all around the UK will be having a moment, and I hope this is the first of many amazing moments [Grimbore]
I really need to focus [Bupsi]
You are fun, you are relevant [Cowell]
J'know what I mean, x6 [Bupsi]
Next up, I'm so excited [Paella Lambrini]
I need you to bring that on Saturday [Umbrella Linguine]
Go with your gut instinct [ForFuckSake Versace]
I know you've had less of a time [Ritalin]
I've got so much to say to you I'm gonna trip over me own tongue [Chezza]
Kind of, x6 [Rita repeater]
I feel like this is my home [Monica Michael]
Please give it up for x8 . . . [Wally Murs]
You hit them notes, boom, boom, boom [Rita Ora]

Sunday

Olly announced a double elimination, which was going to prolong the agony for some, who really ought to be moving along more quickly.  A quadruple elimination would have done us all a favour.

Reggie 'n' Bollie are nice chaps, but completely irrelevant.  Bupsi sang an awful song awfully.  Alien Uncovered are an acquired taste, a taste that I've not acquired.

Little Mix sang a weird song with a weird pitch, weird intonation and a minimal entertainment quotient.  Then, half way through, they switched to a more recognisable song which they sang in tune.  What an odd arrangement.

Wally Murs told us to get dialling, despite only 0.3% of the population having a telephone that requires the user to 'dial' rather than press/push.

Ellie Goulding was completely fucking SHIT.  If I hear "on my mind" once more this year, it'll tip the balance!  I've only just recovered from her incessant "burn, burn, burn" bollocks!

Bupsi got the fewest votes, and was not really up to the job.  Kiera and Alien Uncovered made the sing-off, and seeing a The Krays were safe, I couldn't disagree with these dregs going head to head.

Alien Uncovered produced a cunting racket that was offensive.  They so need covering up.  Kiera arrived on stage and introduced some order and calm to proceedings.

"It's up to you who stays and Hugos," intoned Olly Murs.  The Aliens were rightly despatched, because there's no escaping the fact that their singing was woefully inadequate.

One cliche to end:

"You haven't seen the last of us"

...

25.10.15 X-Factor Judges' Houses

Talk-Talk seems this weekend to have dropped its relentless ramming down our throats of its name at the start and end of every ad break.  I suppose the hacking scandal has thrown up one very small plus point, then.  Sadly, each ad break seemed a tad longer, though.

The grueling ordeal over two nights has been more demanding than I ever thought possible.  I am of course referring to the pathetic airing by ITV of 'Judges Houses', the stage of the X-Factor that used to involve little more than some singing followed by tears on a sofa.  This year, someone thought up a new format that simply dragged the hell out of the whole ordeal.

Two-and-a-half-cuntin-hours on Saturday was a marathon, riddled with advert breaks.  However, the more nauseating factor was the unwarranted delay in getting to the fucking result, or as Wally Murs kept telling us, the "Final Free".

The useless lead up to Flack forcing answers out of the judges included a totally pointless ten-second countdown which achieved no more than a waste of a further ten seconds!

Perhaps the most awful aspect of the palaver relating to the first two categories was the abuse meted out to the four who were left to vie for the final place in the live shows.  It was expected of them that they demean themselves awfully, and plead live on stage for a chance to prove themselves, work hard, suck the odd nob and no doubt lick a clit if that was the price of being granted the last spot.  Truly cringe-worthy television, and totally disgraceful.

Then we got to the end of the Saturday show, with Nick Grimbore required to do no more than announce the "Final Free".  BUT . . . it was apparently necessary to carry over this task to the Sunday show.  Sadly, just like on Mastermind, when Magnus Magnusson used to repeat the whole fucking question when he was interrupted, the recaps, breaks and padding meant we had to suffer for another half an hour!  What the fuck Nick was doing putting through Mason Noise is beyond me.  There is foul play at work here, after the wanker seemed to dispose of the attitude he displayed in the six-chair challenge, and then sang for Nick in a wimpy voice, dribbling humbleness in the post warble interview.

At least the four didn't have to plead, and we were allowed to move on to Rita. Simon Cowell has proven to everyone that he is a dick, while Cheryl Fandango Vaseline was less than useless in all respects.  That gaunt and gormless look, as she turns her head like a barn owl, is one that confirms a lack of any clue. If she could just desist from talking altogether, then the world would be a better place.

Mark Ronson displayed an inability to start or finish any word properly, and slur the middle bit.  As for the unfortunate expression on Rita's helper (Meghan Trainor) it was hard to work out whether someone has slapped the crap out of her with a fish, or the sneer is a phenomenon that travels with her everywhere. Back in the studio, after a whole load of bollocks, Rita was given another ten seconds (after her nauseating speech) before she picked the last of her three. "Let's spare a fought . . . blah blah blah," said Wally Murs.

I cannot see the point of taking the contestants all over the place to single for a minute each, and then drag them all back to Wembley to get the verdicts. Worse, we (the viewers) have to have the piss taken out of us with dire television, cliches, grammatical howlers and dumbed-down dross.

...

18.10.15 River Monsters

Last Week on ITV

Jeremy Wade yet again annoys the arse out of fish by pestering them while poncing around in front of a camera.

10.10.15 Strictly Not Necessary.

Saturday night television presented no real dilemma as regards what to watch. The glut of rugby meant that BBC1 offering Strictly Come Dancing as an alternative was welcome.  In terms of entertainment, it certainly ticked the box. I even managed to stomach the ludicrous number of puns and cliches, along with the exceedingly tiresome VTs that preceded each and every dance. What was impossible to stomach, though, was Tess Daly.

Strictly Not Necessary

Sadly I must go on record as someone who realises now that however awful Bruce Forsythe was as host on SCD, the growling, patronising, talentless bloke known as Tess Daly is in fact much worse.

I fear that we are lumbered with her for some time to come.  I have no idea why the BBC feels obliged to retain her "services", but somehow Turbo Diesel has contrived to make the position her own.  With a 4.2 litre TD engine, there is no shortage of grunt.  Her constant revving is nauseating, and Vernon needs to have a word.

...

8.8.15 What's Wrong With Retail

I had the unfortunate task today of calling into Sports Direct to buy some trainers.  My brief (to myself) was cheap white footwear that fitted okay.  I scan of the display lead me to some white trainers branded as Lonsdale and they were only £23 - job done, I though.  The assistant was actually in the mood to assist (not a common occurrence by any means) and after I explained I might be a size 10 or an 11, he returned with a ten-and-a-half.  I quick try, and I discovered that the world is shrinking, and that I'd need a size 11.  "I think that's the biggest I've got," came the words from the assistant, as if there were ever any doubt that my size would be unavailable!

He offered a size 11 in a similar style, rather more blue than white, but I conceded, and tried the right one on.  "That'll do," from me was the end of it, or so I'd envisaged.  But no - Sports Direct's Employee of the Fucking Month was out to attempt an up-sell.

Not once, not twice, but three fucking times the cunt decided to try and get me to part with an extra five pounds for some gel insoles that would cushion my feet.  Apparently I'd notice the difference, and should opt to purchase them.  I declined.  I declined a(fucking)gain and like St Pissing Peter, denied him a third cunting time!

"I'll take them over to the checkout for you," said the defeated irritant.  I made my way to the checkout.  At this salubrious venue in the far corner of the cavern, I was met with the face of a hard-nosed woman who was to allow me to leave the store with the trainers; not before another 'up-sell- attempt.

I feigned mild interest in the shenanigans that she undertook, tapping codes and pissing about.  "Size 11, yes?" she enquired.  The correct answer would of course have been:

"Yes, these are the cunts that the assistant fetched for me, and that I have just had on my fucking feet, having asked for a size 11.  They are the same cunting trainers that he then placed on the counter in front of your two eyes, to rouse you from your cunting coma, and do some work!  How the fucking hell would they be anything else but the size 11 trainers that I want?"

I did not say this, as I was in a pleasant mood.  Instead, I said "Yes,"

The shock of the up-sell wasa new one on me; apparently there's a mission to get rid of overpriced carrier bags!  This woman was most certainly determined, and had the look to go with it.  Even without speaking, she suggested by her very appearance that she was a zero-tolerance sort of female.  She looked the sort who had her cunt flaps tattooed (with 'left' and 'right' rather than 'love' and 'hate') and her clit pierced in three places by rivets.  I declined the offer of a £1 stronger bag to carry the lightweight trainers home, and she put the box in a normal carrier bag.  I left the store, thankfully.


Asda

Elsewhere in the retail world, Asda had no Mint Penguins, no ordinary KP Nuts, no Brillo Pads or any sort of cheap equivalent, and no new potatoes at all! Fucking disgraceful.  No sign of an up-sell, but more of a fucking down-sell.

...

5.9.15 X-Factor - The Third Audition

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!

...

5.9.15 Strictly Come Dancing, My Darling

Horrendous, TalentlESS Entity

Strictly Come Dancing is underway, and the prospects look damper than a slug's cunt.  The cliches were rolled out by one and in in the launch show. Toss Daly managed to use the term "My Darling" eleven times, and I suggest that all eleven recipients of this comment view her as anything BUT their darling!  Apparently Jeremy Vine wants to give up dad dancing, and 'move like Jagger' . . . . . . so, still dad dancing then.

This non-show wasted all our time, with introductions and pairings being announced.  The ministrations of Foghorn Leghorn were, as ever, enough to make anyone cringe.  Ainsley Harriott was amusing, mainly because he is addicted to that joker's grin.  I suspect he smiles when he sleeps.

The Joker

Kirsty Gallacher referred to herself in abbreviated form, with a "come on Kirst" . . . . . hmmm, maybe "cursed" would be better?

Bored to Death (us, by her)

Daniel O'Donnell is the most boring bloke that Ireland has ever produced, and we are going to have to suffer him for longer than (strictly) necessary because he has so many fans among the older generation that he will probably get votes he'll not deserve.  This year's duffer has been paired with Kristina Rihanoff, who allegedly wanted someone 'bland' whom she would not be tempted to screw.  Well, he fits the bill.

I wonder if Talentless Daly might learn how to pronounce "Judges" before she draws her last breath on earth.  I wish she would get it right, although if it speeds up her disappearance, then I'll happily forego any opportunity to hear her say it correctly.

Poor Pasha was left with a duffer, a weather woman (is that a real job?) to round off the pairings.  Maybe Anton will survive a bit longer this year, although not much linger, I suspect, with Katie Dereham.

The input from the four judges was embarrassing, as well as dire, and they should all have had toast and Marmite, watching a film at home.  This would have saved them having to make inane comments, and listening to Tess growling like a provoked rottweiler.


...