Well take a seat in my final seat and call me Gary.
Yep, well we’re still trudging through the ‘overs’ and first up was Justin Lee Collins tribute act Shelley Smith. Oh by the way, using small children as a human shield is obviously the preferred method this year. Yesterday I informed you that Joseph had been given the elbow despite the little boy card, because, well, frankly, he’s shit. Amazingly he’s sitting in one of the seats (at the moment).
Next up, a girl dressed as a draughts board wails another Whitney tune with added vocal gymnastics and I can feel something inside me stretch. My patience. Wave after wave of catterwalling, flat toned wannabee divas sitting smugly on their Ikea chairs. Even worse, the chairs have more personality.
For example –
Zoe Devlin : “I’m going to do it for my little girl,” she claims, choking back the tears, before giving a weak, droning performance, followed by Sharon allowing her to kick somebody out. Ironically, it was the other child blackmailing tone deaf drama queen Joseph that Gary was gunning for, but Shazza took out another characterless diva.
Then onto the groups. No child hostages, but plenty of clichés and awful songs. Brick City were the first to sit down. Let’s hope they don’t make the final, because I have a perfect name for them and it isn’t pleasant.
Rough Copy – Yes!
NVS – No! Very Shit!
Kingsland! The hair! The dance! The horror!
Xyra – Yra?
Tenors of Rock – Darth Cowell’s favourite type of act, like an operatic group of real ale drinkers.
Some other non descript bunch of boys did some backflips and got the Gary thumbs up. Bored yet?
A girl who dumped her former group and took up with another pair of female song murderesses appeared, crying a lot.
“I think we’ve found something really special,” said Louis. It’s times like this you nearly kick in your very expensive flat screen telly. They’re in. Which poor unfortunate is out?
I DON’T CARE!
Can we talk about something else? Can we do something better with our weekends?
Next of Kin – Rule the World – the ‘Take That before the producers doctored it to sound good’ version. Rubbish. Gazza appalled.
One more set to go – Louis’ boys – how long does this programme go on for?
Paul Akinson – the ‘hot chocolate’ singer – at last! Somebody who can sing! Let’s cut the crap and just give him the record deal.
The yodeller finally showed that yodelling only goes so far. Not as far as the song ‘Respect’. The moral of the story is, always yodel in context. I never thought I’d write that sentence in my life, either.
Gareth Bale lookalike Alejandro went for the Spanish route to appeal to the ladies, including Nicole and Louis. It worked.
Ryan Mathie – ‘Es rait gud.
Luke Friend, Devon’s dirty haired diva, sang a song that had all the right notes but not necessarily in the right order. I must admit I have a vested interest in Mr No Head and Shoulders, since he is known to my cousin and her talented singing daughter, but somehow I can’t feel the love.
Giles, the singing youngster sat down, followed by football coach Tom Mann. I thought he was having an asthma attack, but apparently it’s his singing style. Louis dumped him. Back to the adoring soccer moms for Tom.
Scottish boy Nicholas was the last contestant of the evening and only the second genuine singer to appear. Giles watched him with hatred in his eyes, knowing the game was up.
But no! Alejandro gets dumped!
“That really surprises me,” said Lady BSM.
“Yeah, but Louis is stupid,” explained Master Johnny.
I have a great idea regarding combining X Factor with Game of Thrones. The whole thing could be held in a large stone hall with a fur clad Gary, Louis in a toga, Sharon in feathers looking to a topless Nicole to make judgement on the acts. Those who fail are disembowelled by Wilko Johnson with a big shiny axe. I’d really want to watch that.
Until next time.