Well put my baps on a plate and call me Nicole. X Factor.
Tonight’s show was called ‘This Weekend Brand New Boot Camp No One Is Safe Until Every One Has Sung The Ultimate Game Of Musical Chairs’.
Which actually makes perfect sense when you’ve watched the whole programme. Firstly, a David Dickinson tribute act phoned all the judges and told them their category. Louis got the boys. He nearly exploded with excitement. Enough of that. Sharon got the overs, Gary the groups and Nicole the girls.
All the acts discovered their mentor as they stepped from their product placed cars. All of them ran to embrace them; in Louis’ case, he ran rather too enthusiastically towards all the young boys.
“We’ve got Gary!” chanted the groups.
“We’ve got Louis!” chanted the boys.
“We’ve got arthritis!” chanted the overs.
The 100 survivors were culled to 50, with the inevitable shocks, tears and horrors. Sharon managed an expression of disappointment at the point when Nicole rejected one of Sharon’s favourites. A hug for the poor wretch followed as Sharon struggled to get her face back to ‘normal’.
On to the musical chairs thing. What happens is that all the contestants sing. The judge decides whether they get a seat or not.
I suggested to Lady Barton St Mary that what they should do is get all the contestants on stage and make them sing together. When the music stops, they all have to fight for one of the six seats.
She just arched an eyebrow and sucked thoughtfully on the cucumber slice in her gin and tonic.
We soon discovered that once all six seats were full, the remaining contestants could oust somebody from their seat with a good performance.
“Darth Cowell is crueller than you think,” purred Lady BSM.
So are the judges. Judas turncoat Hannah Sheares, who dumped her best friends for shot at fame, was unceremoniously rejected by the Cowell slaves, leaving her with no chair, no place at boot camp, no friends and to be honest, no tone. She took it well, but still had to use Dermot as a snot rag.
All the seats were full. Hannah Barrett, the girl with the deceased dad, was the first to sing to take one of the occupied seats.
“Now, choose a bitch and fight her to the death,” said Nicole, wearing a red PVC basque, handing Hannah a blade.
“Do it for me. Do it for The Rural Spaceman,” she whispered, breathing heavily, her bosom rising and falling. looking directly at me through the TV screen, winking.
Sorry. I drifted off there for a moment.
And so it continued. More emotional and psychological torment. Quite a lot for ‘Use my little boy as a human shield’ contestant Joseph Whelan, whose luck finally ran out and he had to release the little boy back into the real world once more.
Only one person came out unscathed. Somebody Thatcherites would highlight as a good example of how care in the community works. Souly Roots, the remaining contestant who could be gently led to the nearest home decorated in bright colours and offering daily bingo sessions without complaint and with good reason.
“It’s a singing competition, so this is the end of the road,” Sharon explained.