Well, stick my sunglasses down my shirt and call me Dermot. X Factor.
So, to Wemberley. (Those with a yes vote in bold).
Sam Bailey, the singing prison officer kicked off with a gutsy performance. Her entire family wore ‘Team Bailey’ t shirts.
“My wife has the X Factor,” said his. Once Darth Cowell has signed her up, fixed her face, stuck her in a gym for 8 hours a day for 6 months and given her a big fat advance, he’ll no doubt be wearing a “My ex-wife has the X Factor” t shirt.
Sad Hannah – she was sad. But good. I’m waiting for the tabloids to dig the dirt.
Luke Beiber. Britnell – turns out he was Beiber. He was crap.
Alajandro Fernandez – cheeky, smiley, sing in Spanish orgasmatron. Gary hates him, obviously. Darth Cowell must have nearly choked on his own saliva.
Fil from Maidenhead – he’s 30. He lives with his mum and dad. He was ordered to be nastier. As Denis Healey once famously said of Geoffrey Howe, it was like being savaged by a dead sheep. Awfil. Bye, Fil.
Jerrie Dila – pronounced Geri, as in Halliwell. But her voice was just as good, in that it wasn’t. Jerrifying, as Nicole might say.
Tamera Foster – former partner of Jerrie, singing a Whitney Houston song. Initially in the style of ‘Whitney after 4 lines of cocaine and a bottle of vodka’, in that she couldn’t remember the words. She returned to much acclaim. She could go far. Just avoid Bobby Brown, drug dealers and hotel bathrooms.