Episode 112. In which I talk about X-Factor.

I freely admit I watch the X-Factor.  Start to finish, audition to golden confetti exploding out of the sky.  It’s either a really lame congratulatory shower for the winner of God thanking himself for having created Dermot O’Leary.



This year’s gone a bit wrong.  John and Edward.  I do not understand why they continue to appear on my TV.  Louis Walsh seems to adore them, wittering on constantly about “The Likeability Factor,” which to my mind proves the sparkly little leprechaun needs to lay off the rainbows.  John and Edward have the likeability factor, he says.  Danyl doesn’t, he says.  What Louis has forgotten is that this concept of The Likeability Factor is supposed to refer to how the general public might react, not Louis himself.  He’s fooled himself into believing that this is the same thing as what he likes.

Just for the record, Louis Walsh does not speak for me, he does not understand me, in fact his brain must be wired in a mirror image to mine.

John and Edward are lovely boys, they say, they’re sweet and warm and cheerful in the house shared by contestants.

I don’t really care.  They can’t sing.  They can’t dance.  I’ll stop short of saying they look awful for fear that a KitKat advert will kick in and they’ll go a long way.  But they’re not pop stars, and they never will be.

When they perform it feels like watching a really bad school talent show, the kind where everyone deserves a turn.  One of them’s always getting right in amongst it while the other flails around looking for a cue to where he’s meant to be, doing what move and singing what song.  I don’t even know which one’s which.  Or whether it’s always the same one flailing or whether they take turns.

I won’t deny they look like they’re having fun, it’s clearly a dream come true for them.  But not in an undiscovered genius way.  More in a Jim’ll Fix It way.

And what gets me the most about the whole thing, while fully grown men and women egg them on and vote for them to remain in the competition because they think it’s funny, is that people who are genuinely talented are being sent home into obscurity while John and Edward dance around like they ate all the blue Smarties.  I actually find it quite offensive.

The other week Miss Frank and Danyl were in the bottom two, and had to sing for survival.  Both of them had performed brilliantly throughout the competition and especially so on the night, and neither deserved to leave.

I like the X-Factor because I get to see talented people singing and dancing, people who can entertain.  But now it’s a popularity contest with no regard paid to what got the contestants onto the stage, it’s a farce, and a waste of everyone’s time.

That said, I could not bear Rachel and was glad to see her go.

Again, she was, apparently, a total sweetheart, kind and all-round lovely.

I wouldn’t know, I never met the girl, all I know is every week she got up on that stage and pissed me off.

She would squint her eyes in a way that I think was meant to look relaxed and sleepy, but it just looked like she was squinting.

She would sing a bit then look at the camera, wrinkly her nose and smile, like a diva in concert sharing a moment with the audience because they all know what’s coming next, and it’s her trademarked key change, or dance move, or 8-octave arpeggio in five seconds down.  But listen, Rachel, I don’t know you, you don’t know me, we’re not sharing a moment, and although I’ve no idea what’s coming next, judging by past performance it’s going to be more of the same.

I’m aware that all the guest judges loved her, and that’s great.  But maybe she wasn’t performing for them, but just singing for them.  Maybe her singing voice is spectacular.  I couldn’t get that far, I just wanted her to stop trying to nudge and wink me, she was like an intrusive old lady at the bus stop.  The kind that makes you start working out how long it would take just to walk home instead.

One week, Rachel wasn’t in the bottom two.  She got all excited and started talking like Stacey.

I love Stacey, I really do, I think she’s too ditzy to have a bad bone in her body, I think she sings beautifully and looks amazing.

But Rachel doing  a Stacey impression, it gave me the rage.  Maybe that was a genuinely excited version of Rachel.  But we’ve seen her through every stage of the competition, from audition to eviction, and I never saw her do that before.

Here’s what it all comes down to.  So is just so very, very contrived.

All her little trademark moves are moves she picked up off someone else,and quite frankly that’s both annoying and violation of copyright. Metaphorically speaking.

I wouldn’t care if she had no trademark moves.  I have no trademark , I’m dull as dishwater.  But everyone has one thing they cannot abide, something that just gives them the rage, right away, no build-up, no progression from mild irritation through consternation to frustrated ire.  What I cannot bear is people whose every move is contrived.

I don’t doubt Rachel is a sweetheart, I’m sure she did the dishes every day and ironed John and Edward’s hair for them and read Joe and Lloyd a bedtime story every single night.

But Little Voice has been done.


Diabetic moment of the day

Today’s diabetic moment is more of a temptation.  I wanted a doughnut So Badly this morning.  I didn’t eat one, of course.  But I wanted to.  Really, really wanted to.


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