X Factor Results Week 5: Cheryl's Peril

Become famous enough, and you can do whatever you want. This includes refusing to the job you've been paid for because you can't handle the pressure. Careful now Cheryl, or that halo will become a noose.
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Become famous enough, and you can do whatever you want. This includes refusing to the job you've been paid for because you can't handle the pressure. Careful now Cheryl, or that halo will become a noose.

Millions saw it, but for anyone too busy completing the weekend’s worship to know, Cheryl Cole startled Hollywood with an impromptu X Factor remake of Sophie’s Choice on Sunday night – only, in this one, Sophie decided that  she was actually really really tired – cringe! - so could her friend Louis select which nervous child to send to certain death instead?

Dermot O’Really – playing a German guard – agreed, Louis pretended to care, before cheerfully pointing at Treyc and booming “kill her!” in a wild Irish accent.

The crowd went mental, regardless that Treyc was the one who repeatedly infuriated Simon Cowell by singing the shit out of songs, but totally failing to connect on a deeper spiritual level with the various children, inmates and grandmothers watching in eager anticipation of uncovering the next U2.

As they do, Treyc said that she was completely fine with this preposterous decision, but then caused an eruption of frothy cappuccino foam spurting from mouths on showbiz desks all around the country by confiding in old man Schofield ON LIVE TELEVISION that it did seem a bit unfair - especially being that she actually sang a song, rather than stomp around the stage with bottom lip protruding and an angry snot bubble inflating and deflating like a slimy transparent lung, before shouting at everyone to sod off and collapsing to the floor.

Aiden will continue in his quest to monopolise the misunderstood demographic by singing in the style of a man bleeding to death.

Again, for the benefit of those at church, the latter description accurately captures Katie Waissel’s sing-for-survival performance. She was like a suicidal Rod Stewart.

Still, Katie – who has absolutely enraged the nation by really wanting to be famous – lives to sing another week, despite a protest of “don’t invade Iraq” proportions swelling throughout the country. Some might recall that Katie also prevented Gamu from getting through, which very nearly ended in nuclear war with Zimbabwe.

It’s getting intense.

To summarise the rest of the show: Next week, the favourite, Matt, who oscillates between wearing a hat and not wearing a hat, before singing songs initially intended only for women, will do a version of “My neck, my back” by Kia, cleverly redubbed “My penis, my beard”. Aiden will continue in his quest to monopolise the misunderstood demographic by singing in the style of a man bleeding to death. Cher will start by singing, before whipping a shiv from her tracksuit top, and rapping from the side of her mouth like the woman in those hilarious having a stroke adverts.

Paige will remain outwardly unoffended when Louis Walsh tells him – without irony - that he reminds him of Lenny Henry, Luther Vandross, Frank Bruno, or Kris Akabusi.

Rebecca will continue to do Sade with bad adenoids – only much more brilliantly than that sounds. One Direction will enter their Sergeant Pepper phase by growing moustaches for Movember and doing a sitar version of “Flying without wings”. Wagner will have awkward three minute missionary intercourse with a backing dancer whilst mumbling the words to “My Way”. And Mary will bounce back by shouting a Coldplay song. Good for her.

Rebecca to win!

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