Hello! This story doesn’t make any sense! In fact, this story is so categorically stupid that it requires a key. So, here is a key.
KEY, YEAH?
*SCOTT JORDAN – Man who says he looks like Justin Timberlake and substantiates this claim with a photo of himself in a trilby, which apparently is something the REAL Justin Timberlake would do. In 2002, at a stretch, possibly, Scott.
*KITTY BRUCKNELL – Lead singer of Wham OR something a bit Councillor of the Exchequer-y, we forget. Something a bit like that.
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Hey you, quick, come out from behind the sofa. It’s all over, honest. After nearly four months, the auto-tuned X Factor singers won’t be making anymore feature length appearances on ITV to ruin your weekend.
As we all know, Little Mix were voted as the winners. Or, it was all fixed by Simon Cowell for them so we can have a girl group that are slightly more polished around the edges than when Girls Aloud first started out. Learn from your mistakes and whatnot.
So how exactly do you celebrate winning a national competition which has been steadily declining in viewers each week? Sip on champagne whilst hanging out with record execs? Little Mix had Tulisa as a mentor. She took them for a kebab instead.
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Hello. Do you remember when you watched The X Factor final yesterday? Well, by an astonishing coincidence, so did we. And crikey, wasn’t it just totally and definitely and absolutely unequivocally passable? Yeah. Take that, H8ERS.
*Dermot tongue roll* ALRIIIIGHT. It was in two halves, like the bloody brilliant darling that it is. Is it possible to be too entertained? The answer is of course c) Kaposi’s sarcoma.
Nonetheless, yes they absolutely poured out a grand total of FOUR. HOURS. That’s like an hour and twenty minutes per finalist. How many times can we hear Marcus say, “I used to be a hairdresser, and now I’m a singer a bit.” over and over in varying incorporations? Obviously, once you chop out all the adverts that’s only about twelve minutes or so though, obviously. No bigz. So then. We love adverts. They really really make us want to buy produce via an amusing or creative short film piece. Our favourite advert of course is the one where the little boy can’t wait to give his parents a Christmas present, and how it really really made us want to buy padlocks for our doors. Oh alright, “The X Factor” then. Here’s loads of wank about it, in two sections.
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Tomorrow is the final of the X Factor. It’s the one episode of the series that most of the general public tune-in for, apart from the audition rounds when we can laugh at delusional, frog-eyed members of the public.
Other talent shows may spend the maximum of sixty minutes announcing their winner, but X Factor will be stretching the process over four hours across the weekend. Unless you bought into the conspiracy theory that Amelia Lily is set to win due to the HMV pre-order error, then you have no real reason to watch. Unless your life is completely empty and devoid of any human contact.
X Factor has never produced a winning group, meaning that Tulisa will be spurring on her act – Little Mix – to victory. Aside from the records, the magazine shoots and inevitable quirky interview with some Channel 4 yoof show, what else can they do for us? According to mentor Tulisa, they can make a massive difference to our lives. We hope so, the guttering needs doing.
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We have two more weeks of The X Factor left, and then we can go and do something else in our brains. We know. It’s amazing. Amazing how it’s all gone so marrow-achingly slow isn’t it? Amazing how time can absolutely not shift for three months in the slightest sometimes.
Amazing. A bit like how 2001: A Space Odyssey covered thousands of years scoping from the dawn of men to beyond the infinite. Or a bit like how The Curious Case of Benjamin Button lasted infinity-hundred hours long and achieved absolute zippo. A bit like that, a BIT like that…
And hey! Talking of clutching at straws…
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Well, what another hotbed of mayhem and violation of societal norms it’s been on the X Factor this week.
Whatever you do, don’t let us go on and on about it, kay?
This week on The X Factor, the sound editors got in an extra crate of Aftershock (Spiced Berry black, obviously. They’re not squares) and decided to insult our intelligence! Yeah, as opposed to the norm of respecting us with sincere background music choices that somehow formulate a narrative on a reality entertainment show. Yeah, truth man!
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Gary Barlow has always shared a certain stuffiness of his namesake, Ken Barlow. He was always something of a curmudgeon in the world of the boy band, and as he gets older, he’s showing no signs of changing.
Grumping into view, Barlow has criticised modern pop videos, saying that they’re just too rude.
You wouldn’t get Take That rolling around half naked with women smearing food all over their bared chests, thrusting their glittering thongs into camera in the Do What You Like video, would you? Never.
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This year, the UK version of the X Factor has gone through some serious changes. For starters, there’s no Simon Cowell with his rolling eyes and odd man-baps on the judging panel. Cheryl Cole vanished too, leaving us with Gary Barlow, Tulisa and Kelly Rowland to sit with the increasingly distressing Louis Walsh.
Tulisa, who has been surprisingly likeable in the past, ballsed up her chances of capturing our hearts after showcasing a staggering lack of pop knowledge (not knowing what rock music is and having never heard of the dazzlingly famous ‘Think’ by Aretha Franklin) as well as droning devoid of emotion like a post-match football interview. Don’t start us on her idea that Little Mix are somehow a feminist statement.
That leaves Gary to fulfil the Simon role and Kelly to be the ‘likeable, if slightly insane’ one. And now, it looks like she’s going to ditch the UK for X Factor USA because she obviously can’t be bothered dealing with Tulisa anymore.
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