Well, run up a phone bill and call me Christopher. X-Factor.
Still no Dermot dancing.
“I love Dermot,” I blurted. Lady BSM looked at me askance. I pretended I hadn’t said anything.
The final six six six gave a good performance of Beautiful Day by U2, a good choice considering that Bono can’t sing either.
Next up it was last year’s winner, Little Rhythm. I mean Little Mix. They’ve had two number ones. In Latvia, I assume.
“Where’s Pug Face?” demanded Miss Katherine, scanning the members of the band. We assumed Darth Cowell had sent her away for a head transplant. They managed to get through the latest song written for them by Cowell slave songwriters, chained to radiators deep in the bowels of the Cowell Deathstar. Also, Jade and Ryan appeared to be sharing the same wig.
By the time they finished, I really needed the toilet, so I went. When I returned, Prince Harry had invaded the stage with a toy guitar. But it wasn’t Prince Harry. This guy was wearing clothes. He could sing. He could play guitar. It was Ed Sheeran. What was he doing on X-Factor? Was this a Star Wars moment, where Ed from the Rebel Alliance has infiltrated Darth Cowell’s Galactic Empire headquarters?
So to the decision. The boy bands ended up in the sing off. Louis was so inconsolable, he nearly managed an expression. They performed. The first lot were awful. The next ones were slightly better.
“They’re really good!” exclaimed Lady BSM, who had relaxed with a glass of red wine. It must have been her second.
And so, District 9 were eliminated and Another Direction stay on. I think this means they’ll be a ceremonial hand over of all hair products.
Until next time.