X Factor: The Final

The Cardle, One D or Rebecca Ferguson. Who would be crowned X Factor 2010 winner? Finally it was time to find out...
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Saturday night’s GRAND FINAL (part one) was moving television at its most unbelievably intense.

Rebecca sang, people burst into tears. Matt Cardle’s dad was sobbing so damn hard that he had to be thumped in the chest.

And Cher’s little brother, start struck and confused by Cheryl Cole’s presence in his actual house, became sexually overwhelmed, short-circuited, and began simultaneously laughing and crying to distract everyone from what was going on with his tracksuit trousers.

Plus Dermot O’Really thought he’d seen it all with Rihanna’s whorish bikini performance, before she was utterly out-slutted by Christina Aguilera and a troupe of horny women in knickers.

So to the contestants.

Matt kicked things off by re-interpreting a Dido song to sound like it wasn’t sung by a lady with a muffled foghorn where a voice box should be, and he did so with some aplomb. The performance was aided by a backing string section made up of phantoms.

The judges loved it, the whole thing only fractionally ruined by the decision to allow Stacy Solomon to act as a hype woman in his hometown of Colchester. As words tumbled from her mouth in no particular order, it seems that whoever was on roving camera one had already jacked it in, leaving her brainless Street Porter babble to soundtrack scenes completely unrelated to the messy conversation she was having with one of Matt’s many school teachers in attendance.

As reminders that you’re watching live television go, it was up there with allowing Kerry Katona on the sofa, even though she’s clearly just piled great big fistfuls of drugs into her mouth.

Next up came Rebecca, who performed atop a giant hat, which suddenly turned out to be a roundabout!

Louis, sporting another one of his hilarious bowties, baffled absolutely everyone by declaring that she’s exactly the same off stage as she is on it (she’s singing?), before Cheryl doffed her a tearful cap for being a strong independent woman, and Wayne Rooney’s cuckolded wife persuaded a euphoric Liverpool crowd to clear their throats as one to screech their approval.

For those who missed it during the week, a small One Direction concert in Doncaster kicked off a violent ripple effect which snowballed into Prince Charles and his wife having the shit kicked out of their car on Oxford Street. In the pre-performance video, it was also unearthed that they need to do some serious work if they’re going to master the boyband staple of speaking in unison, but that’s just splitting hairs. They signed a girl’s face, excited policemen chased their car for autographs, and when it came to singing their first song of the night, they stuck very closely to the format of the boring one starting, the one with the musketeer hairstyle taking over, and the one who looks like Tom Cruise in Risky Business miming into a banana. Great stuff.

Matt sang like a girl, Rihanna emerged from backstage with T’Pau hair and no knickers to slowly circle him like a female RnB Wagner weighing up her chances with a backing dancer.

Finally, it was time for the least popular face on Twitter – Cher Lloyd. As is her way, she ducked the dreaded song choice conundrum by moulding three tunes together like a restless toddler jamming a lump of plasticine onto a lego brick onto a ball of sellotape. Dannii confirmed her innermost feelings about who was going out first by giving her some career advice, Simon called her a lovable brat, and Scott Mills got punched square in the face in a Malvern pub.

That was it, round one done. Next for round two – the bit where they sing half a song, before going “ladies and gentlemen, I’d now like to introduce…” someone famous.

This segment was totally sandbagged in the week when the tabloids decided to ruin the surprise element by announcing the superstar duets in advance. Even so, well done to the X Factor production team by pleading ignorance on these worst kept secrets in show business, and keeping up the charade for any forgetful old biddies watching.

To summarise the rest of the Saturday show:

Matt sang like a girl, Rihanna emerged from backstage with T’Pau hair and no knickers to slowly circle him like a female RnB Wagner weighing up her chances with a backing dancer.

Rebecca was shot in the foot thanks to a preposterous pairing with Christina Aguilera, who turned up midway through “You Are Beautiful” to form a singing contrast which made her a roaring lion and Liverpool’s finest a timid soul mouse singing from beneath a tea cup.

Simon stroked a Yorkshire Terrier, then Robbie Williams became an honorary member of One Direction. They all exchanged tough guy high fives, and at one point during the performance, Williams decided to thrust his microphone in front of a makeshift band member’s mouth to finish his line for him. Cowell erupted into a sudden sweat, before realising that he’d landed the thing on Harry – who can sing – as opposed to the Irish blondie – who hasn’t sung a note for months.

And Cher had a shouting competition with Will.I.Am, before being ushered out of the competition.


Dermot O’Really wore a celebratory tux, Simon didn’t bother with buttons on his shirt, Dannii and Cheryl dressed for the Oscars, Louis was off to a dinner party.

This was going to be THE BUSINESS.

To kick things off, the final three competitors crooned the first eight or nine words of “Never Forget”, before Take That burst onto the stage to take their song back! Trousers tented throughout the audience and there wasn’t a completely dry set of knickers in the house.

Matt went first again – “this means everything to me, I’m THIS close, blah blah…”

As befits his womanly voice, he did the Katy Perry metaphor overload about feeling like a plastic bag (shit and flimsy), and then like a firework (hot and dangerous). He was joined in this ode to being bi-polar by backing dancers done up like extras on stage with the Pet Shop Boys.

“You’ve certainly paid your Jews in the music business,” declared Louis, rather ominously.

Thankfully – or not, depending on your tolerance for people who don’t make any sense whatsoever when they speak – yesterday’s cameraman issues had been ironed out, meaning Stacy Solomon could allow random nouns and adjectives to bubble in no particular order from her mouth and actually be seen this time. Her big news – someone had turned up with a meat feast from Dominoes.

Next up - One Direction

They did a classic Beth from Neighbours song, some wearing t-shirts, some in knitwear. They all had ridiculous boots on. Careful Charles and Camilla - Doncaster fucking loved it.

Last up, Rebecca sang Eurythmics, whilst an aerobics class was going on around her, and over in Liverpool, some bloke in lipstick was pretending to be the mayor.

With a brief intermission where everyone could sit back, bust open a choc ice, and drink it all in, producers decided that it would be a totally hilarious wheeze to wheel out old auditionees with genuine mental health problems so that everyone could feel completely disgusted by them once again – especially the one who is a prostitute.

She didn’t disappoint, arriving on stage for her vocal runs in a set of short shorts that were so short that they were gradually being devoured by her hungry buttocks throughout their Lady Gaga homage.

Unfortunately after weeks of Wagner cockery, this deranged concoction had absolutely zero impact.

So, to lift the mood, Dermot O’Really told One Direction to sod off, and showed an old video of them making extremely awkward small talk with Steven Gerrard.

And lo, it became the final within a final… within a final. Matt versus Rebecca.

Both sang their latest hit single. His acoustic and earnest, hers containing a message along the lines of: if life is getting too much for you, retreat into yourself, you’ll be happier there. Then someone with dreadlocks asked Matt for money, and Rebecca proved that while she can certainly sing like an angel, she still has much work to do on her conversational skills - her back and forth with O’Really was all back and no forth.

“Good luck, Rebecca, we know you’re going to win!” boomed Mrs Rooney, following a filler song from Take That.

Matt won. Top soothsaying Coleen!

And then Harry undid everyone's good work and plunged the entire show into the gutter by informing Matt that he was about to be thrown headlong into a world of "pussy". Cringe!

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