We’re halfway up the Everest of semi-finals week, and ITV have kindly given us a little sniff from a tank of oxygen, in the form of a day with no show. Caution: metaphor-stretching ahead.
Since setting off from auditions basecamp, it’s been a steady slog up the north face of Britain’s Got Talent. The air’s getting thinner than Darth Jackson‘s address book, and colder than the series of pumps and switches that pass for Amanda Holden‘s heart.
But if you find yourself tiring, don’t worry: Susan Boyle will truss you up with climbing rope and hoist you over her hefty shoulders.
Okay, we’re all out of mountaineering references. Point being, we now know who six of the Grand Final’s ten acts will be.We can’t detail all of the acts who’ve appeared in semis two and three – literally. We tried, but ended up shoving the computer’s keyboard down our throat to end the misery. So, probably best if we stick with the most likely to win the most talented the most mental and/or ugly ones.
Merlin Cadogan, cannonball-shouldered escapologist. Despite Amanda’s logic circuits shortcircuiting – leading her to believe that “burning to death” was the biggest threat to a man who at any moment could fall from a storey’s height, head first – the judges liked Merlin. But he was never going to make it: everyone knows that The Queen hates seeing one of her citizens spill his brains onto a theatre stage right in front of her. Quite puts her off her jumbo bag of Skittles, it does.
Jamie Pugh, weirdly bearded bag of nerves Welsh singer. The eagerly-awaited return of the man with the all fortitude and inner-strength of a carrier-bag full of custard. He’d wowed the world with his first audition, revealing a big singing voice despite his nerves. Sadly, between then and his semi-final appearance someone had replaced his original, operatic voice with the sound of a cow giving birth while falling down a flight of stairs. Back to delivering pizzas in Lllannnffyrrrcchhyynnaaacchhh for you, Mr Poo.
Shaun Smith, squishy-faced teen singer. Going for the mature vote with his song choice (U2‘s With Or Without You), and the pre-teen vote with his facial choice (Robert Pattison being crushed in a vice), Shaun belted out his song. Despite the fact that when he got to the loud bits he looked like a man with a ruptured appendix being repeatedly punched in the testicles by an invisible dwarf, the judges decided to put him through.
Flawless, military-themed dance nonsense. Did you really want another bunch of tedious street dancers in the final? DID YOU? Honestly, you sicken us. And we’ve seen over eighteen thousand photos of Susan Boyle.
Ben And Becky, whirly-twirly dancing. Oh sweet mercy, we take it back, Flawless, We’d rather spend eternity with you lot practicing your routines on our scrotum than watch another second of these two. Typically, Amanda liked them so much she did that arms-straight-out-in-front clapping thing. We suggest someone checks her oil level, it seems her elbow joints might have seized up.
Stavros Flatley, borderline abusive father and his son. Topless. Prancing around like a right pair of arses. Honestly, Flatley Senior, if you hate your boy that much, and so want to see him bullied that you’d make him show his moobies on television, we’ve got some advice: go the whole frickin’ hog (no pun intended, fatty) and have him just come on stage and do the Truffle Shuffle. Anyway, they’re through.
Shaheen Jafargholi, Welsh-Iranian singing foetus. Oh, Shaheen, with your granny-pleasing smile and pervert-pleasing fresh-faced innocence. Looks set to provide tough competition for Susan Boyle in the final.
And that, apparently, has the lady in a real tizzy. According to The Daily Mail, after watching Shaheen’s performance while in a public room of a London hotel:
“Boyle is alleged to have reacted to Morgan?s praise for the 12-year-old by sticking two fingers up at a television and shouting ‘f[uck] off’, before stomping off to her room.”
Confirmation of the hotel’s structural integrity following this stomping is not yet available.
So, will this filthy outburst affect how the public views Susan (who we believe was conceived when Ram-Man had sex with a Gremlin). We don’t know yet, but we’re hoping that she keeps focused, and is able to bring her best game on Saturday.
Oh, hang on, hang on. We’ve got one: we hope she can go on to scale the peaks of success, and avoid falling down the deep crevasses of failure.
Shelley Anderson says
Hey, People! Remember the wake up call? Well . . . Susan has one more lesson to teach you . . . prejudice against people with “learning” disabilities. Susan is very much a lady, but just as she is “older,” and “frumpy,” she is also dealing with whatever the oxygen deprivation at birth did to her. She was called “Susie Simple,” or “Simple Susan” in school because she had those learning disabilities. What made neighborhood children tease her? They weren’t in class together. Susan is a beautiful person, but she is also sometimes childlike in her actions and reactions. Welcome to the world of people who are dealt a hand they never asked for or wanted. Add to that growing up in what has been described a tough neighborhood, where profanity is possibly as prolific as the plant life. I am NOT dissing Susan or West Lothian. I’m trying to point out that Susan is Susan. We get the angel, the apprehension, the humor and the outbursts. That does not diminish her singing talent. So get off the pick on Susan kick, already. Susan is still a very special person with many lessons to teach!