X Factor 2011, Week 13: Bondage Horses And One-Trick Ponies

Following technical difficulties, the Queen v Lady Gaga night whimpered into action and made one thing clear. The judges hate each other...
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Following technical difficulties, the Queen v Lady Gaga night whimpered into action and made one thing clear. The judges hate each other...

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X Factor is starting to resemble the reality TV version of Newcastle United from about five or six years ago.  It’s regularly on the front page for all the wrong reasons and is slipping behind its rivals thanks to a series of off-key performances.  In short it’s a mess but it’s a mess that’s providing quality entertainment for all the wrong reasons.

Just as we were all coming to terms with the loss of Frankie Cocozza (never has the first syllable of anyone’s surname been more appropriate) for breaking a mysterious Golden Rule (being a twat who can’t sing, perhaps?  Oh hang on, it can’t be that.) X Factor hit us with #TechnicalDifficulties.

Ten minutes of the most ham-fistedly stuck together emergency tape in the history of TV sent the nation into frenzied melt down.  Twitter was rife with rumour.  Had Frankie pissed all over the controls in a drink-and-drug-fuelled rampage?  Had Simon Cowell materialised in a plume of black smoke and razed the studio to the ground?  Had several audience members been forcibly removed by an execution squad for not wearing poppies?

In the end it was a rather mundane power cut and finally it was TIME TO FACE THE MUSIC.  This week’s theme was Queen v Lady Gaga but first up, as ever, the judges.  There’s Louis Walsh looking like a stupid dog happy to see his owners, Gary Barlow looking miserable, Tulisa who still renting advertising space on her arm to sell her own, no doubt crap, perfume and there’s Kelly dressed in a, er, man’s suit?.  Nice one Kelly, you look like a drag queen.

Talking of drag queens, first up was Kitty.  She’d been reduced to tears because nasty Misha’s had got to sing Born This Way not her.  That’s the thing about bullies, Kitty, they never change.  So she had to sing Don’t Stop Me Now, a message for the public perhaps?  As usual it was vocally very good, if the staging was a bit weird, this week’s look was a punk Queen Boudica in a carriage that didn’t move pulled by men dressed head to toe in PVC.  And all before the watershed.

I initially thought it was for a child abuse charity but no it’s about a kid desperately waiting to give his parents a Christmas presen

The first ad break brought the moment we’d all been waiting for: the new John Lewis/The Smiths advert.  Wow, these bastards really know how to make you depressed.  I initially thought it was for a child abuse charity but no it’s about a kid desperately waiting to give his parents a Christmas present.  And it cost £6m??  Dear John Lewis, next year please give the money to charity and keep shit like this off my TV.  Thank you.

Anyway, I digress.  Next up was Craig.  Every week they tell us he’s on a strict diet and every week we look at him and think: “Really???  That has to be the world’s crappest diet.”  OK, you’re right, his weight shouldn’t be an issue but the fact he combs his hair like a nonce is unacceptable.  As is the fact he’s still in the competition.  Yes, he can sing but he’s the very definition of a one-trick pony and I’ve seen more personality in a dead rat.  We don’t need another Susan Boyle.  She does what she does and she does it better than this twat ever will.

Hurray for Rythmix I mean Little Mix.  Oh, whatever.  I like Little Mix, well two of them anyway, and Tulisa likes them too.  They reckon she’s like a sister to them. (Just wait till you get kicked off in a couple of weeks, my dears.  She’ll be the type of sister that never calls and never visits.)  Anyway they sang Radio Gaga with a bit of Telephone thrown in for good measure and it was fun although Gary and Kelly thought it was “predictable” which is strange because that’s the whole point of meaningless, manufactured pop.

If Little Mix were all a little bit too bouncy for your tastes, you can rely on Janet to suck some joy out of proceedings, I mean sing a beautiful but haunting rendition of a song we all know and love.  You’re in trouble when the best performance you’ve delivered since your first audition is your one line in the M&S advert and that’s the kind of trouble Janet’s in.  She’s frizzed her hair, she’s straightened her hair and this week she went back to basics with a performance as a dead child singing Someone To Love.  But do you know what?  I don’t care anymore.  She’s boring now.  Next…

It was just what we all needed to help us put down the razor blades after Janet’s performance

Oh, bollocks it’s Marcus; I wish he’d stop smiling so much.  No, to be fair Marcus is OK.  He can sing and he put on another good show with a Fifties version of Another One Bites The Dust.  It was just what we all needed to help us put down the razor blades after Janet’s performance although this time it was Tulisa and Kelly who thought it was “predictable” which is strange because that’s the whole point of meaningless, oh you get the point.

Finally of the remaining six-soon-to-become-seven was the big bad bully who stole poor little Kitty’s song.  We had the pre-performance story of Misha’s week focusing on her friends and family.  “This song’s for Manchester,” she said and they must have been proud because she was back to doing what she does best – dressing up as a Quality Street.  This time a blue one, which if memory serves me correctly is some sort of coconut affair.  She did a woeful little Dermot dance with more than a hint of David Brent and an adequate job with the song, but we all know Kitty would have done it better.

Talking of Dermot, he provided the night’s best moment when he asked Misha: “How was it to go back to Manchester this week?  You must have loved that.”

Too which the answer was: “I didn’t actually go back.  [Pause.]  It was just the camera crew.”

It seemed she was destined to go down in history as a name tattooed on Frankie’s arse.

And another little piece of façade falls away… To be fair, Dermot just carried on as if Misha and his own ignorance hadn’t exposed him for being the monumental dickhead we all take him for but which he’s too arrogant to realise he is.

Then finally we got to find out who would be rejoining the show.  Would it be Amelia Lily, the only one with talent and personality; Two Shoes, the ones with no talent but a little bit of personality, or one of the two blokes whose names I can’t even be bothered to try and remember.  Of course, if the blanket coverage she’s had over the last few days wasn’t a massive clue, it was Amelia.

Now, here’s the thing about Amelia; she delivered one of the performances of the opening week, yet despite being better than Sophie Habibis and more versatile than scared little ghost girl Janet, she was inexplicably booted off.  It seemed she was destined to go down in history as a name tattooed on Frankie’s arse.

Yet given a second chance, she grabbed it firmly by the bollocks and upstaged the others, singing the Show Must Go On (it’s almost like they knew she was going to win the vote).

Amelia’s given the show a bit of its mojo back. She could even win it, and do you know what? I’d love it, just love it if she did.

X Factor 2011, Week 12: Kitty Wishes She Was Dead

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