"She sings incredible," said will.i.am, referring to Rita Ora. Clearly his command of English has been affected by watching too much Match of the Day, and copying Alan Shearer, who has no use for adverbs in his daily life. The extended introduction last week was simply an exercise in the four judges/coaches complementing each other . . . . blowing smoke.
They sang Ready To Go, murdering the brilliant Republica song. If this in any way served as an indication of the standard of contestants' singing, then series four is already fucked! Emma Willis and Marvin Humes resumed their pointlessness. After introducing by name each of the four judges again, it was time to get going with the first singer. The studio went quiet as everyone waiting, and a scintillating exchange took place, as follows.
Rita Ora: "That's kinda quiet, isn't it?"
Rita Ora: "Silence."
Tom Jones: "Quiet."
Ricky Wilson: "I know, it's scary isn't it?
Rita Ora: "It's the opening act, in it."
Tom Jones: "Yup."
With such fantastic input, I considered the licence payers' money being channelled to the four judges by the million to have been well spent. Yeah, right.
The show got off to a limp start, with only will.he.won't.he displaying sense, and not turning around. The quality of the singing was naff. Tom decided to announce he is 74, as opposed to 24. This was his basis for wanting to have her in his team . . . fifty years of experience. Yawn.
The show then took a lurch downwards, into the realms of fucking Blind Date. The woman decided to ask the three judges a question. What a fucking fiasco!
"If we were to go out for say, some chicken, what kind of spice would you have with your chicken."
Ricky turned out to be the successful one, though I'd contest that he actually lost. Letitia will not prove much of a catch. Lucy was up next week. Obviously the fact that she is from Dublin has little relevance; The Voice UK suggests that this isn't an international contest. She moved to London last year, so that probably qualifies her though. Operatic voice = pointless entering!
Emma Willis seems to have a role that demands she jumps up and down alongside family members as they whoop and cheer their relative in the most partisan manner. Emma's joy seems off-the-shelf, and irrelevant.
I have quickly developed the opinion that "shredded suet" perfectly sums up the nature of the comments from Atora and her general input on the show.
Elsewhere (well, in the next fucking seat, actually) is Tom Jones, or perhaps he should be henceforth referred to as Ten Mojos. [Anagram]
Tom is simply the most predictable and uninspiring chap, relying on 'being Ten Mojos' and believing that is qualification enough to hold court, saying nothing much at all.
Ricky Wilson seems unable to press his button, ever, preferring instead to slap it hard in a dramatic way, as if he's at a fun fair and hoping to hear a bell a split second later. His 'Woody' view of life is more gormless than anyone else on TV.
Kim Marsh's daughter was not very good, and we endured the laughable angst displayed retrospectively by the four chair-people of the apocalypse. Rita got her first young chap and there was national celebration, bunting ordered by town councils, street parties planned, and euphoria at a level not seen since Keith Chegwin went naked on TV. Atora managed to offer a wonderfully useless comment after securing her first victim:
"You were really in sync with yourself."
If that is not a perfect dollop of suet, then I do not know what is! Next up was Bungle from Rainbow. He was dire, make no mistake. The pathetic karaoke input from an idiot midway through a naff party was allowed to be counted as a legitimate contestant on this series, proving that the BBC has lost the fucking plot. The interplay between Bungle and Woody was embarrassing, as was the necessity for prime time TV to include will.i.am getting an explanation of who Bungle was/is. Hugs all round as the bloke left - what shite. Then we had a session of reminiscing about Muffin the Fucking Mule!
Hannah managed to get all four coaches to turn around, and Marvin confirmed to some of Hannah's friends and family that this was the first time that had happened. Thanks, Marvin, Invaluable input. Why she picked Woody I've no idea! Stephen, the 16-year-old, was not ready at all. It is supposedly all about the Voice, but clearly the lack of anyone turning around was followed by cringe-worthy apologies and confirmations of a mistake. His age was apparently a key driver for the apologies after the event. It's the cunting VOICE UK not the fucking AGE CONCERN UK, and it's a contest, not a call for charity.
As if there were ever any doubts about will.i.am being slightly 'wonky', he managed to provide reassurance with the quirkiness he's known for. He got a "brain mail from himself". The "soggy" rambling episode was nuts.
Like an alcoholics anonymous session, the four seated twats each said sorry for not picking Stephen, and it was horrendous. I need a fucking drink after that bollocking display of nauseous pandering.
Finally we had Stevie, who sang with an affected wail, and nasal affliction that annoyed. Atora turned, followed by Ten Mojos, Woody and Iams. His occupation (firefighter) inspired the cliche response from Suet-head, and the audience whooped and cheered. Yet again, a contestant opted for Woody, and a few million people sat shaking their heads, bewildered.
I fear for the future, and will have to think long and hard before enduring any more rounds ahead of the next stage.
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