Well, put me in a push up bra and call me Nicole. X Factor.
The first episode where some poor unfortunate ends up back on the streets, where thirteen become twelve. Very biblical, even down to the eventual conclusion.
Tonight, we had the usual turns, including one from Cowell’s workcamps, the fragrant Leona, who has sold squillions of records to squillions of people, though I’ve never met anybody who would admit to buying one.
“I’m a whole lotta trouble,” she crooned. No, you’re not. Otherwise old Smugger the Hut would have sacked you and you’d be working on the reception desk at Hackney Sports Centre. By the way, if you’re reading this and work at Hackney Sports Centre in any capacity, this is not meant to be offensive. You’re doing a very good job.
Next up was a rather cocky young man called Neil. I hadn’t seen him in the auditions, he wasn’t a wild card and Herr Cowell would have stopped him after 2 bars and chucked him out. Turns out his name was Ne Yo, he was friends with Nicola and was really talented, since he was able to cuddle the Pussy Cat Doll and sing without moving his lips at the same time.
Before the excitement had died down, Dermot was on stage with his silver envelope and the roll call began. One by one, they went through. Kye, Cut-price Jarvis, D3, Dead Granddad Girl, Victoria Wood, MK1, Shouty Fairy, The Android, Singlemum, Two Directions and Nanny’s Fairy.
Which left MILF and the infamous Rylan in a ‘sing off.’ You could have guessed the rest. Rylan strutted around the stage dressed like a liquorice allsort designed by Stonewall, moaning behind a dance track.
Carolynne, again dressed alluringly, sang another country song whilst Gary stared lovingly up her skirt.
No competition. Except that Nicole would vote for Rylan, Gary for Carolynne. Tulisa would see sense and go with Gary. Louis? Which one would he choose? The MILF with a good voice or the camp Essex boy with a strange dress sense? Easy. This was the man who believed in Wagner, even if he couldn’t pronounce his name.
“I need a name Louis!!” Dermot pleaded, as the director screamed into poor Dermot’s earpiece. Louis dithered. Dermot’s ears started to bleed as the director’s screams of abuse became almost audible.
“I want keep Carolynne!” wailed Louis.
“What was that? You want to keep Carolynne?” Dermot confirmed. Carolynne went wobbly at the knees with relief.
“Yes! I want to take it to deadlock!” shouted Louis.
A confused Dermot wiped the blood from his ears, shrugged and went for deadlock. Another silver envelope, another rise in share prices for Clinton Cards.
“The contestant with the fewest votes is…”
You know the rest. Louis’ face contorted, but the botox still refused to allow his face to show expression.
As Rylan was ushered from the stage and Carolynne prepared for a 12 second interview with Dermot, Gary strode purposefully from the stage, looking manic with rage.
Did he deliberately walk off in disgust? Where did he go?
Nobody seems to be willing to say, but I’m pretty certain of one thing.
When Louis returned to his dressing room, I’m pretty sure he found a turd in his wardrobe.
Until next week.