Halloweeen X Factor - Pure Evil Indeed

Dressing up last night’s X Factor in Halloween costume did nothing to dilute the collective evil. This week, the harmless fancy dress just made it all a million times more frightening - like Red Nose day at Auschwitz.
Avatar:
Author:
Publish date:
Social count:
7
Dressing up last night’s X Factor in Halloween costume did nothing to dilute the collective evil. This week, the harmless fancy dress just made it all a million times more frightening - like Red Nose day at Auschwitz.

Dressing up last night’s X Factor in Halloween costume did nothing to dilute the collective evil. This week, the harmless fancy dress just made it all a million times more frightening - like Red Nose day at Auschwitz. There’s One Direction with slashes on their tender 16 year old necks. Wagner emerging out of the ether like Pavarotti’s recently exhumed corpse. And of course Simon Cowell’s hair, which requires no green glitter or spray on cobwebs to make you scream – it’s just there, a clump of follicular madness, unnerving you every week like a bristling trivet you could rest a teapot on. Terrifying.  So let’s grit our teeth, put our psychiatrists on speed dial and confront our demons one by one…

Tesco Mary

Brrrrr. Halloween or not, I always completely shit myself whenever I see Tesco Mary. If you tried to sing ‘My Heart Will Go On’ after she’d circled it in the karaoke brochure, she’d glass your rotten face with her bottle of blue WKD. She’s hard. She reminds me of that bull in Withnail and I, who takes a run at Richard E Grant’s carrier bag. This week her bovine qualities were greatly enhanced by a pair of red devil horns, which gave her performance the air of a plucky bison slowly dealing with the effects of a tranquilliser dart. In the words of farmers everywhere - shut tha gate, and keep it shut.

Aiden Grimshaw

Grim by name, grim by nature, little Aiden has the frightening intensity of a lorry driver who tries to pick you up at Tebay services and show you his collection of headless Barbie dolls. If Aiden sings a tedious, clunky version of Thriller at you, call 999.

With a chin that could open a tin of condensed milk, batshit hair and Tippex eyes, this horrific image of Katie is now indelibly transferred on the inside of my eyelids, and no amount of drinking can shift it.

Belle Amie

Remember when Derek Smalls got stuck in that pod in Spinal Tap? Well, Belle Amie emerging from coffins was like that, but less amusing. They looked like the fallout from a terrible one night stand – eyeliner everywhere, crazy hair, crying, frantically trying to remember where they put their knickers. To add to the awfulness, they were wearing dresses made of Andrex. Let’s quietly delete them from our address book and just hope we didn’t make them pregnant.

Matt Cardle

Matt, who is essentially a young, thin Johnny Vegas, is like catnip to the ladies for reasons that are impossible to fathom. A painter and decorator by trade, this week he sounded like he was being beaten to death with a 2 litre tin of magnolia in an abandoned warehouse. Spooky.

Wagner

The man most likely to sexually harass your mum at a funeral, this week, Wagner’s performance came live and direct from Hades -  Carmina Burana sellotaped to Bat Out of Hell to create an unsettling cacophony of utter shite. Not suitable for children, or indeed anyone.

Katie Waissel

With a chin that could open a tin of condensed milk, batshit hair and Tippex eyes, this horrific image of Katie is now indelibly transferred on the inside of my eyelids, and no amount of drinking can shift it.

Cher Lloyd

I was hoping that this week Cher would do a crunk version of Me Old Bamboo with a hologram of Dick Van Dyke, but I was sorely disappointed. Instead Cheryl made her do a serious, boringly passable interpretation of Stay by Shakespeare’s Sister (yawn). However, the truly frightening thing about Cher is that she appears to be hovering on the brink of being sectioned at all times.  Will she be found in a skip next week shouting ‘I’m covered in spiders?’ The suspense is killing me.

Last nights’ X Factor was the usual terrifying parade of talentless ghouls and overpaid arsehole judges. But together, we can get through this. One day, we will be free. One day it will end, and we can watch another Saturday night show, possibly featuring Ant, Dec or Shane Ritchie. So as they say on Crimewatch– sleep well, and don’t have nightmares. After all, the most disturbing part is yet to come. There are about 9 more weeks of this shit left to go.

Click here for more stories about TV & Film

Click here to follow Sabotage Times on Twitter

Click here to follow Sabotage Times on Facebook