OK So I watched a recording of Saturday’s X Factor last night to give it a fair chance.
I wish I hadn’t. Actually that’s not true – I do have some fascinating revelations!
The first is that Louis Walsh is basically a one sentence robot with a good eye for the bizarre. Last year the strange twins became “Jedward” and actually sustained the public’s interest for a few months even after the series ended, and he looks like he is doing it again with Wagner who resembles that Native American who always decried the war with the White Man in Lee Van Cleef films and ultimately died in a hammy way involving a brunette and a tomahawk.
Louis basically says “You look like a Pop Star. You dress like a Pop Star. You sound like a Pop Star. You are a Pop Star!” to a different person every week. The irony is he sits next to Danni Minogue who also looks like one, sounds like one (at least whilst she is only talking) and dresses like one but never actually WAS one. Go on, name your favourite Danni Minogue hit. Exactly.
Is Cher Lloyd an anagram of “Cheryl Doll” with an “l” removed? Call me old fashioned, but do street rappers come from early evening light entertainment shows now? She is bizarre to say the least and is a bit like The Monkees were to The Stones. I keep expecting a drive by shooting to splatter Simon Cowell all over the rest of the panel as Jedward try and reclaim the hood.
Cheryl of course is being criticised for her lack of connection with TreyC or whatever she is called. Well, we all know why that is don’t we? Count your blessing TreyC and for God’s sake don’t let her follow you into the toilets. Mind you she shouldn’t really have dressed like that Red Dwarf in Don’t Look Now.
Cheryl Cole has perfected that look that seems to say “Run Bambi – Man is in the forest”. All that’s missing is the satisfying gunshot and the Emperor of Exmoor saying “sorry Cher, Cheryl cannot be with you any more”. Was that too much to ask on a Halloween special?
Then there is Simon. Like Caligula’s plebeians the audience wait for his thumb on each act. He looks to the side, does a strange hand gesture, says something ambiguous and then…the coup de grace. Close up of the contestant looking like Simon just confirmed that the early diagnosis of advanced pulmonary cancer was incorrect and in fact was only a chest cold. Simon then names his horse as a Senator, enjoys fellatio with a goat under the desk and the poor across the country pay extortionate phone rates to support his Frankenstein Boy Band rather than, say, buy vegetables.
What really annoys me is that there is some talent in there but it is being restricted and exploited for the Cowell Corporation rather than nurtured and developed. Rebecca Ferguson and Matt Cardle will no doubt be forced to sing songs by some idiot like Robbie “Save My Career For Old Times Sake Boys?” Williams when they should be learning the trade of song-writing so they can genuinely survive in the real world beyond Dermot’s shoulder. Alexandra Burke and even Leona Lewis totally depend on getting good songs and without them, and their youthful looks, they will soon fade.
Highlight of Saturday night TV for me? Harry Hill’s Wagbo, the love child of Wagner and Mary Byrne…genius!
Why do we watch these programmes? Well, I think it’s because everyone is rooting for their favourite and the thing becomes competitive and therefore entertaining. I regularly hear the words “who went out on X Factor/Strictly/Big Brother?” shouted across a bar or hotel lobby in the way they would enquire about the outcome of distant battles a century ago. I guess I will just have to keep watching to see who triumphs...come on Wagner!!
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