Well, stick my ears out and call me Nicholas. X Factor.
Before the latest musical minion is fired out of the Cowell Death Star, we could enjoy the talents of The Wanted and Lady Gaga. The Wanted have a member who comes from our home town of Gloucester. Jason. Ben. Nathan. Yes, that’s it! Nathan! I think. You can see he’s made a massive impact on me. But he does attend a few Gloucester Rugby games, so he must be alright.
They were live. Actually live. One of them could play the piano. Was that Nathan? They could sing in tune. Nathan did the talking, all in the Gloucester accent.
“We’re on a world too or, Dermot,” said Nathan, ” it’s proper good, moind,” he nearly continued.
24 million albums and 90 million singles sold, but still it’s not enough for her. And there she was, the star of a rather manic underwear advert. Somehow she’d decided to eat some whelks before the show. Not wanting to stain her frock, she left it off. Then forgot to put it on, preferring to appear with two shells on her thrupenny bits. Which she wantonly flicked off half way through her first song. So, for a second week running for a Shelley throw out. A triumph for music, Marks and Spencer and teenage boys.
The lines were closed. The votes were in. Miss Die Manics were joined by Hannah. Slightly uneven competition, in that, if I may be technical for a moment: Hannah has range and ability to sing through several octaves in order to convey an emotional message through the medium of song, whereas Miss Die Manics are, well, rubbish. Three lip glossed pub singers. Dermot and Hannah looked on mournfully, willing it to end.
Eventually, thankfully, it did.
Miss Die Manics get the heave ho and the music world can breathe a sigh of relief once more.