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.

So Kitty Brucknell (Check the key)  Yes, THE Kitty Brucknell, has reportedly broken up the marriage of a Justin Timberlake impersonator. That’s what we’re working with here. That’s entirely what has happened, yep.

It’s just exhausting really, isn’t it? We work hard all day. We come home, and Kitty Brucknell has had sex all over a Justin Timberlake impersonator. Well, we suppose we could take the coherent objective of: “HEY! Who hasn’t?” But as we well know, we would be lying to both you, us, and perhaps most importantly of all: every single person in the world who has not had sex with Scott Jordan, the Justin Timberlake Impersonator.

And nobody is quite NOT having any sex whatsoever with Scott Jordan, The Justin Timberlake Impersonator than his wife (Shit!) Mrs Justin Timberlake impersonator. (SHIT!) No sur’ee, definitely not a wink of frottage going on in that partnership, that’s for sure. Not any more at least, for that heart has been taken into the warm, ethereal, in-need-of-a-good-moisturise-if-you-ask-us hands of Kitty Brucknell, whom has been named on the divorce papers as being the sole reason for the relationships’ demise. You know, that man who you haven’t heard of at all ever.

No, not Matthew Wright from the Wright Stuff! This other one.

Dare you to thumbs-down it, just to be a dick.

Anyway – according to “Scott Jordan” (*Throws up arms in manner of Michael McIntyre demonstrating something we can relate to*) this woman is KRAZY. Like KANDY FLOSS WITH A K, kind of crazy.

‘She is a monster who does not think twice about tearing other people’s lives apart to get what she wants.

‘She thought being with me would make her famous and get her in the papers and she didn’t care about how her manipulations and lies could have destroyed my career and my marriage.

‘My wife has been subjected to Kitty’s disgusting taunts and lies over the phone.

‘She makes me feel sick.’

Come on, Woman from The X Factor who looks like the sort who person who eats their own leg hair for sport and spent time in rooms containing lockable doors with Louis Walsh? Crazy? That word gets thrown around too much these days. CHEERS FOR THAT ONE, “GNARLS BARKLEY”

Come on Scott, the second best pop star impersonator of all time, (Yeah, as if we were going to let THIS sucker slide) she’s one of those lovable mentals, like Jack The Ripper, or Amanda Holden. All she did was break up your marriage with sex and violence. We do that sometimes instead of sleeping, or eating toast. Yeah, we beat our wives. That’s how we’re choosing to sum up this one. BAD WIVES.

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.

For the scum of society like us, a kebab is nothing more than delicious thin strips of oily brown meat, presented in a polystyrene box. The grub itself is nothing more but lamb baws and horse gristle smashed together to make something described as a food stuff you can shove down your throat ’til you wretch.

But Little Mix and Tulisa aren’t like us common folk who’ll coat their post pub treat in gallons of garlic sauce before dropping it all over themselves.

They’ll be dining in places where kebabs are from fresh cuts of wild boar, unicorn and bear.

Taking to Twitter after they’d all munched a rough piece of meat that had been stewing in its own juices for weeks, Tulisa said:

“What do ya do after ur act wins the xfactor?”

You should bloody know as we already written a few hundred words about it, but anways:

“…go 2 ur local kebab shop of course, wooooiiiiiii….”

We’re looking at you Jesy Mix. You greedy little Muffin you.

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.

SATURDAY

Hello, we didn’t watch Saturday’s X Factor. Why would we? But if we HAD, the review would have gone something along the lines of this:

Oh crikey, look at all these dead sparrows and PVC and contraceptive pills strewn upon Wembley Stadium. We guess it must be the penultimate X Factor final show! So for those of you who missed it (JEEZ GUYS WHERE WERE YOU? We bought dip, and everything) – Dermot hot stepped to Domi Aragoto Mr Roboto in a tank with women wearing Jodie Marsh’s army belt outfit (this was before the pumping steroids into her neck phase) and – were those tears? Oh no, it’s just perspiration from being sewn into grey woollens for the past three years.

Well, first up to perform was definitely Amelia Lily, which we know for absolute definite. Well, wasn’t she good, gang? Yes, she really sang that Christina Aguilera ballad with quite the pazzazz and passion that Christina Aguilera hardly ever bothers about. And not to mention that bit where the smoke surrounded her and the other stuff happened, that was our favourite bit. Obviously that key change was a little bit too emotional for our tastes, but that’s just because we’re fragile. Amelia’s choice of outfit was a bit ‘punk’ as well, wasn’t it? You could take someone’s eye out with that thing. Nick Broomfield basically did a documentary about it because it was so sadomasochistically wounded. The judges LOVED. IT.  Louis completely rammed Kelly in approval of picking a song for Amelia that he had heard of. It wasn’t our favourite sex we’ve ever seen, but it was better than the Alex Reid porno marginally, and we’re very lonely. He’s having a baby now.

And then up came LITTLE MIX to perform some songs about what on Earth it could possibly be like to be young normal women, which we’ve always been completely nonplussed about. We mean, “women who are down to earth”. It doesn’t really seem to make much sense, seeing as how Queen Elizabeth I was a woman, and how Heidi Klum is DEFINITELY a woman. It makes sense, no. Nonetheless we’re sure you all enjoyed Little Mix’s medley of “Survivor”/”Sisters are doing it for themselves”/”I Will Survive”/”You Make Me Feel Like a Natural Woman”/”Woman”/”Women”/”Girl”/”Girls”/”Girls Girls Girls”. We sure did. But you know what we’re like, we love everything. We’re like a walking Tom Jones allegory.

Finally to perform was MARCUS COLLINS. Warraguy. Loved it when Marcus trotted down those steps in Gene Wilder’s Willy Wonka costume from 1971 and sang the entire saxophone solo from Careless Whisper in particular, all the other stuff we could take or leaves. Tulisa going off on a massive scavenger hunt for self esteem half way through his performance was a trifle odd though, we must say – but then again she did grow up in a box in Camden so we’ll let her off.

Then they all sang again, this time with the judges because otherwise they’d have to dare we say it, ask professionals or something, and Gary Barlow played the piano in a manner of sincerity. Don’t say they don’t treat you. They do. Sound about right? Okay good.

(Oh and Amelia Lily got voted out. Devastation for da nation.)

SUNDAY

Christ sake. This again.

So this was the final FINALLY FINAL kind of X Factor final. Everything was so darn, FINAL about it. Wembley was there, Coldplay was there, Louis wore the entire concept of Hugh Heffner. It was all just very much there. All you could ever want from television. Olly Murs was there for Christ sake! Olly Murs! You don’t see him around much these days, do you? Aside from every waking second OBV, but who can’t have enough Olly Murs?

The proceedings began with a manic display of wonder and glory. (Oh no, not glory, what’s that other word? Oh right yeah, tedium.) and that. Yes, it was the group performance we’ve all been wrestling in our sleep over for the past three months. But wait one cotton-picking, Stacey Solomon singing Chris Rea MOMENT OF COMPLETE LACK OF REASON, there was Goldie! As in Goldie off of When Goldie Used To Be On The X Factor fame, who sings something inexplicably wrong and then crushes Dermot to death with a loving embrace akin to that of the bloke that gets spattered by a propeller in Titanic. Absolutely outstanding work, and better yet, no Frankie Cocozza – this just gets better and better. WE LOVE THE X FACTOR! Merry Amazing Christmas.

And, as Tolstoy always said, you can take the Frankie Cocozza out of the M&S advert, and apparently you can edit him out of life too. Always a rushing flurry of hope to our hearts, that little factoid. And seeing as we love not committing lots and lots of suicide, it works out pretty well all round.

Now, talking of singing some songs by some singers of song…

Kicking things off was Marcus with his personal highlight of the series, which turns out to be Higher and Higher, even though it was Reet Petite and oh, it doesn’t matter. It’s a minute and a half orchestration of something that at some point or another was made with love and care with the express determination to never be on a Debenhams advert. AS IT IS… Sherlock Rowland cleverly deduces that Higher and Higher is not only a song, but the way Marcus’ career is no doubt going, Y’ALL. Obviously she’s wrong in every single fibre, but to be fair does look like she’s been necking Terry Wogan’s special hand lotion for the past decade.

What do you mean, you want to know how Marcus did? No you don’t. There were still two hours to go. Time is actually replenishing. Next up after Marcus, was definitely not Marcus, which was kind of encouraging. LITTLE MIX of course. Or Little Muffins as Tulisa will desperately chip away at until she gets through the door and hacks Shelly Duvall to death clearly. Little Muffins though… Is that sentimental? Or is that just referring to your ‘friends’ (Tulisa. Seriously. Pull the other one) as big doughy balls of fat? We mean… Muffins. Don’t let us go on about it or anything, but muffins? Did Tulisa even stop to think that there might be a manifestation of foetal rubella infection called Blue Muffin Syndrome? Congrats Tulisa, sterling work as ever. Oh she also calls N Dubz fans her little ‘dublettes’  Nope, we’re staying well away from that one. Well away.

Remember when they used to be called Rhythamix? Those were the days. They should have just called themselves CHICKS WITH DICKS. That would’ve been awesome. We think this is possibly where The Saturdays are going wrong.

So what did the ITTLE WITTLE SUGAR LUMP GANG BANG IN CAR PARK MIXYMOOMINS pick for their final song? Obviously obviously it was the En Vogue one, due to it being catastrophically fan-fucking-tastic. Hark, it’s a bit like music almost. Get used to it.

With the contestants done in four and a half minutes, you’d think ITV1 might have to succumb to some dodgy filler material. Not a chance. We were proved staggeringly wrong with a very well thought out outside segment (YES, IT’S THE OUTSIDE SEGMENTS! Last year someone made Matt Cardle a David Cameron pizza! No one knows why!) of Olly Murs and Caroline Flack (or cock-whore-pedophile-bitch as we hear she’s moonlighting as these days) try and communicate with Dermot (HAHA ‘communicating with Dermot O Leary.’ THE THOUGHT!) whilst shoving screaming mental patients away from their shiny knees and precisely measured hints of popularity. Like we said before, we love The X Factor.

And then, to cries of ‘oh go on then‘, four hundred extra songs for the two contenders then. It’s Sunday night, we’ve got a busy working week, let’s treat ourselves… with Christmas songs. Bum. Marcus sang what confusingly sounded like a retro version of Last Christmas. A ‘retro’ version of Last Christmas, that came about in 1985, that would be. Bloody hell Marcus, buy some roller blades. Don’t get us started on the whole saying “Happy Christmas” instead of “Merry Christmas” in such a throwaway manner anyway, when we all very very much know the correct way to say the Merry Christmas bit when performing the popular festive number Last Christmas.

We’ve not been this disappointed since Bono didn’t sing “WELL TONIGHT THANK GOD IT’S THEM INSTEAD OF YOU” really loud in Band Aid 20 like he did in the 80s one. Or alternatively, we haven’t been this disappointed since Bono. We cater for all your needs.

Gary at some point around this stage accidently said “Sex Factor” we noticed, which is a bit of an exciting thing for him to do, for him, isn’t it? He would have had to listen to an entire Fleet Foxes EP to get back on track there. Little Mix then followed with their version of Silent Night and it was dull, but Christ, the hot blonde one is quite notably attractive. But then Westlife come on. We’re never complaining ever again. COME BACK LITTLE MIX AND SING AN ACAPELLA BARBERSHOP QUARTET VERSION OF SHALOM. Or a terriballs cover of Cannonball. We’re good either way.

You know how all the teenagers of today say how ‘good’ is like, ‘bad’, and like ‘sick’ is like ‘good’ and how ‘bad’ is like ‘good’? Well we mean good in the sort of ‘not good’ kind of way of good. You know, like how the teenagers do.

Then…

THE BIT WHERE THEY ALL SING CANNONBALL EXCESSIVE AMOUNTS TO THE POINT OF RELAPSE

We hated it very very much and wish it had not happened ever.

Finally, after a lot of faffing about and Coldplay, and all that sort of thing, we came to a rough compromise that we’ll let ‘inspiring women’ win The X Factor for a change instead of a shivery man. CONGRATULATIONS LITTLE MIX. You have made X Factor “history” as Phil Schofield is calling it these days. What a terrible Christmas No. 1 this is going to be though. Maybe we should fritter away our entire Christmas holiday, all join forces and try and get a post-post-ironic non-entity to Number One instead! Fuck family and Argos and Jesus!

(Just checked Brian May’s blog for his thoughts on the X Factor winners. Don’t think he’s caught up on the results yet. He must have been busy playing Bohemian Rhapsody for a cow in a field.)

Now for god’s sake, look at the state of this.

FOR GOD’S SAKE. Let’s never EVER do this ever again.

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.

Like a gypsy at a carnival who alleges they can predict your future, the claim that they can make our meaningless existence better is a rather bold one.

Surely it’s some sort of scam that’s been hatched in a Nigerian internet café?

These claims have surfaced before. It’s not the first time someone in pop music has told us that buying a record can make your life better.

And did The Tamperer make our lives significantly more worthwhile? Basically, this was the musical equivalent of magic beans. An empty promise that delivered nothing but shattered dreams and endless streams of hot tears. After the long recovery to normality, we’re dubious of another bold claim, this time stated by Tulisa. The cynic in us makes us think that she partly wants to win to make a name for herself as well:

“I’m the youngest judge, it’s my first year and I want to change X Factor history with these little muffins behind me. I think the thing about these girls is that if they got this record deal, they wouldn’t just bring a record out, they’d also be inspiring women across this country. Young and older. I think they’d made a difference to people’s lives as well as their ears.”

When we think of women who inspire, we immediately cast our minds to the Pankhurt sisters who fought for the right for the female vote. Elsewhere, the panel on Loose Women demonstrate that, if you’re vaguely known in the public eye, you can sit round a table for an hour and make sexual innuendo for a lunchtime audience.

Tulisa has built them up to be some sort of pop act that’ll happily nurse defecating pensioners in a home and then, in the blink of an eye, they’ll shoot across the country to fill in at a school variety show when one of the acts pulls out due to a sore tummy.

Let’s just forget about all the ‘nearly running a charity into the ground business’ eh?

If the worst happens to Little Mix then they can always exploit their own band name to make a living in the confectionary trade where they’ll glam up the pick & mix industry. Or, they won’t charge £3 for a handful of cola cubes.

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…

This week on The X Factor it was of course Psychological Meltdown Motown week and Unrelated Other Song To Fill In The 50 Minute Gap week. Well, it’s about bloody time.

Last week we ‘lost’ Janet Devlin, and by ‘lost’ we of course mean “We sat on our clammy posteriors and watched as her popularity slowly dwindled into nothing as appropriated by the people who do actually vote for X Factor.” We just like to be concise.

Okay so, life changing recording contract, “I want to be in the final so much”, “I am excited”, and all that sort of thing. That’s what we’re contending with as we cross through into the semi-final, so kind of a big deal. Not in the scope of reality or anything, but in the scope of Louis Walsh’s bath nights schedule for the week, it’s absolutely paramount.

For your viewing pleasure or something to that effect, we of course had:

• AMELIA LILY!
• MISHA B!
• MARCUS… We usually forget his name and have to Google it! Marcus Brigstocke possibly!
• LITTLE MIX!

There you are. No no. YOU’RE welcome.

FACTLET: The X Factor Opening Titles go on for 2 minutes and 35 seconds. You know what you can do in 2 minutes and 35 seconds?

*Do 2 minutes and 35 seconds of a task that ultimately will take much longer but perhaps might be more emotionally fulfilling!
*Listen to the entirety of Wipeout by The Sufaris with no burden to bear!
*But mostly the first thing we mentioned!

For those of you haven’t watched it/did not take part in the Ludovico experiment this week/think that Dermot O Leary fella is a bit ‘ehhh’, we have provided you with a blow by blow fully detailed description of this week’s dance routine, because we are kindly and attentive and want to mother you. No no, seriously guys, it’s absolutely no bother.

1. The X Factor doors open to the tune of Do You Love Me by The Contours, which is a song about emotional insecurity and doing the mashed potato.
2. Dermot appears in badly fitting suit perpetrating a basic Stationary Hand Jive routine.
3. Scantily clad women stand next to him perpetrating a basic Stationary Hand Jive routine.
4. Dermot jumps a bit to the left, and then a bit to the right. (This bit’s important.)
5. Dermot turns around and shakes around his backside like he’s in the SEX PISTOLS or something.
6. Dermot looks embarrassed, and all the girls run away.

But, hey. That’s just involuntary abstinence for you.

“Tonight they’re facing the toughest judges of them all. That’ll be YOU,” Dermot warned us in the sort of Orwell-esque manner of omnipotence that only he can pull off and first up to perform, and for an absolutely incredibly sparse chance at performing in the live final because she’s been unreasonably edited to fuck from Day 1, was Misha B!

This week in her everlasting menagerie of Humble Field Trips, the X Factor producers forced Misha visit lots of sick children to try and evoke some sort of caring in her artificial vestibule of hatred that the X Factor producers created in the first place. It didn’t work obviously. Slag.

Misha sang the covered to death Dancing in the Street in a dress made out of broken records, and here is a carefully orchestrated joke about that.

Hey Misha! Maybe you should change the record!

(dress!)

…

Alright.

Well everybody loved that performance, especially Kelly who managed to unfurl 80 extra hidden meanings from the Mick Jagger barnstomper by saying “You’re not just dancing in the street! You’re dancing on OTHER indeterminate locations too!” Seriously, this woman is the effin’ Sphinx. Exhausting. Then we had to go through the WHOLE Louis Walsh says Berry Gordy is dead thing which is a bit of a silly thing to say considering at no point on Saturday the 3rd of December was Berry Gordy actually dead. No biggy Louis, we all make mistakes.

And then there was Amelia Lily with Aint No Mountain High Enough, which is a song about how no level of altitude can keep James Stewart from dressing Kim Novack as a double of his dead wife. Or something. You know, WE’VE GOT A LOT ON.

This all led to us being very confused over whether she looked darn attractive in a 60s Nancy Sinatra way or just a bit trashy in a modern day Twiggy M&S advert kinda way. Either way, it’s a bit of a grey area for us, and it’s probably easier for us not to bother. The dress code of the dancers seemed altogether a little bit more confusing. Houndstooth and tartan? Is that ‘The 60s‘? Let’s just check Wikipedia’s page for the 60s just to make sure. Blah blah blah – radical political change – blah blah blah – centre left social reforms – yadda yadda yadda – The African American civil rights movement… Oop. Hang about. “EVERYONE IN THE 60S LIKED TO WEAR FUNKY PATTERNS” it says. Ah, fair enough. Amelia sang the song vaguely well, basically giving her the exact capabilities as all the Jesuses. That sounds pretty serious. Let’s not deal with that.

“YOU SOUND AMAZING!”IOO”JOJI!IO!HIDBISH!” Kelly Rowland reported in a kind of cerebrovascular accident kinda way. (This is the same Kelly Rowland who wrote the song Stole, which is about a song with a girl who has same size hands as Marilyn Monroe, FYI)

Little Mix up next, singing We Are Nonthreatening But Women Nonetheless! By The Supremes. Ah, that wouldn’t be The Supremes, the collective compromising of quite a fair few women singing at the same time would it? Because… Wait, hold the phone. Don’t Little Mix do something to that effect? Flaming, third degree burns Nora! That’s too much of a coincidence. Assumingly then this was going to be absolutely amazing. So, what degree of amazing did it end up being we hear you cry whilst you claw at our ankles sobbing for catharsis? WELL. If only we had some sort of scale…

Oh dear. So what went wrong? HOW COULD THIS HAVE POSSIBLY GONE WRONG? What is THAT ANSWER? Will we ever even truly know?

Well, they didn’t sing it very well and someone forgot the words. Next week, we’ll sort all that Atlantis and Jack the Ripper stuff out everyone keeps harping on about. Anyway, hot blonde baritone Mix kind of saved it a bit though, which our Spiritual Guide Gary Barlow later points out saying that Peri (Oop. careful Gary, if you name them, you might generate an emotional attachment) should be the lead singer.

“That’s what this group is missing. A lead singer.”

A very interesting Robbie Williams ’90s solo career-y point well made.

“DIANA ROSS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” – Louis added.

It’s actually something of an achievement that The X Factor has gone this far in the competition (Say about..six weeks) without featuring Robbie Williams actually. And here we were worried that the show was…dare we say it, missing the mark of what constitutes as entertainment! Pah. Oh how wrong we were!

Oh wait, there he is with Marcus Collins wearing a cravat. Ah well, we had a good run.

Yeah, that brings us quite messily on to Marcus Collins, who was performing a song that may or may not make us want to ‘get up and dance’ as the dubstep generation like to call all that sex these days. Oh, alright. Not really. God, we’re such jokers. He sang My Girl, which he presumably sang about one of his female platonic friends that he is not boning dry. Ah, so that’s why Robbie Williams came in to give him some advice this week! Gotcha. Gotcha. (Banal early 2000s Robbie Williams homosexuality jokes! Yes we ARE really pushing the boat out this week, thanks for playing!)

“I was hoping you were singing for me.” Kelly told Marcus. Marcus smiles and nods respectfully, as that is all he can offer her.

Mi-Icantbelieveimintouchingdistanceandidontwantittoend-sha B was up again, singing “Humble” the Gary Barlow remix, by SadPink. It’s good-at-singing kind of good. But that doesn’t matter.

Amelia came back singing I’M WITH YOU by AVRIL LAVIGNE which is a song about feelings and being with someone but them not actually being there. Still confused? Okay. It’s like An Affair to Remember with early 2000s pop-punk, and when we say ‘like’ we mean EXACTLY THE SAME. Deborah Kerr probably got a bit angsty and wore a tie with a vest top in her spare time too. We’ve all been there. And we all made it through. Clearly.

Amelia sang the song in that classic Amelia Lily Loud singing/Whisper Singing/Louder Singing/Nicole Kidman Bronchitis Moulin Rouge Whisper singing way. But does this mean that she didn’t absolutely definitely mean EVERY SINGLE WORD? Of course she did! God, we really aren’t taking this very seriously tonight. Apologies to Avril Lavigne, or alternatively: People with actual problems. Cheers guys.

“With that song [That song being ‘I’m With You’ by Avril  Lavigne just to remind you] it’s like you are telling a story. And you have to sing that song as if you are telling a story.”

Which you’ll be shocked into a catatonic state to hear Tulisa came out with at one point. But it turns out it’s actually a very fair point! Seeing as:

“I’m With You” by Avril Lavigne is about Avril Lavigne standing on a bridge waiting in the dark for someone to come and take her hand, and then if there’s time, take her somewhere new. Now, she doesn’t know who this IS, but rest assured she is with them in a metaphorical sense despite him not being physically there. Now CALL US PICKY but we’d think of that more as an experimental William S Burroughs Beat Novel more than a story, per se Tulisa. But hey, ‘that’s just us’.

“Pipes” Kelly Rowland added.

Marcus Collins was up again, or if you prefer, Marcus“afewmonthsagoiwasahairdresserworking9to5andnowiminlondon&itssofunny” Collins, as is is his more catchy pseudonym, sang Can You Feel It. Well, when we say ‘Sang Can You Feel It’ we mean more like ‘inquisitively questioned Can You Feel It in a tentative yet hopeful for one singular sensual brush of the skin of another kind of way’, which we assume is the way Michael Jackson intended it to sound! Hurray!

Sadly, he didn’t muse on what ‘she’ would look like with a ‘chimney on her’, which would have been amazing.

And finally, Little Mix came along to sing ‘If I were a Boy’ which doesn’t work as a group song at all, so Tulisa spits mentals and starts rifling off every single local region in the UK and telling them to vote for Little Mix, like how Winston Churchill used to do when he was trying to get people to vote for Little Mix.

The Little Mixicans (As nobody should EVER call them) say something about how ‘they don’t want to be perfect’ which is why they sang the song about wanting to be boys, because women are biologically inferior as we all know – and then everything came crashing to a close in a mass of violent shrugs.

Shit on that ending, Shawshank Redemption.

THE RESULTS

*Call us picky, but we absolutely loathe Justin Bieber’s bollocks excuse for a Christmas song and don’t like Justin Bieber at all or would ever try and single out any redeeming quality to the fabric of his existence.

*Bye Misha. That’ll teach you to try and bring your talent and very broad vocal range on to The X Factor.

*The sound editors surpass themselves by playing Dream Is Collapsing from the Inception soundtrack over Marcus’  VT where he talks exclusively about how getting through to the final would be his dream. Very good.

*We got to hear that really emotionally taxing Jessie J ballad again, and only for the third time in the space of three weeks. Oh Mr Ambassador, you really are spoiling us etc.

*It is uncanny just how much Tulisa looks like Debenhams and Mkat  sometimes.

*Perez Philtrum appears in the ad break even though nobody wanted him to.

*Kelly Rowland uses soliloquy in pop music, and it is theoretically hells-a-mazing. It was perhaps the most precise mixture of Orbital and Dr Faustus in RnB pop history we have ever seen. But we’re just speculating.

Next week is the final. Or as we like to call it: ‘The Hecklerspray Christmas Party where we’ll deliver a really drab, hungover last minute mess of a review’ This means we’ll only be putting in aprox. 5 billion percent more effort into the review than ITV will be putting into the actual contents of the show, so we’ll call that fifteen love.

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!

For those of you who sat in the dark murmuring, “Mother, please. I don’t want to” last week, instead of watching The X Factor, never fear – for we have a handy update for you!

That’s right: Life isn’t fair.

This week however, there’ll be none of that because we are now three live shows away from finding out who will be the ultimate winner of THE HALF-BAKED 2011 SERIES OF X FACTOR! We genuinely have no idea who could possibly Marcus Collins win this year, so it’s going to be a really tough Marcus Collins race to find out who will Marcus Collins reach the Marcus Collins crown, that’s for sure. No idea. Anyway, it’s all rather important. And as Gary BarWOAH (we think sometimes the onomatopoeia helps the large boring factors of his personality along a bit) rightfully said last week:

“This is a singing competition. NOT a song-CHOOSING competition.”

Alright cheers for that, Gaz Lurhmann. This is, of course, immediately followed by the judges waltzing out onstage to their pedestal of affection to some pompous Wagnerian (no, not THAT Wagner, the other one who Hitler liked… NO, NOT THAT ONE, YOU’RE DOING THIS ON PURPOSE NOW) orchestrations, so we all learnt a valuable lesson there.

So, with the big guns out… oops, no – that’s the war again, isn’t it? Okay. With the slightly complex-inducing fighting talk statements out, the judges (apart from Louis, who was knocked out of the competition in 2003) are going all out to get their precious little cornucopias of talent all the glory and unwavering respect that absolutely none of them deserve or naturally will ever recieve! *Jazz hands*

This week the theme is Guilty Pleasures week! Blimey O’ Jo Whiley, X Factor producers – that’s a bit of a risk, isn’t it? (hey – remember The Risk? Oh, okay, we’ll just talk about something else then, no worries) Songs we enjoy but are not fundamentally regarded as legitimate songs to enjoy, d’you mean? Crivens – this is a bit naughty, isn’t it? I hope they don’t lock up whoever thought of that idea for years and years on end or anything. So – alright, it’s Guilty Pleasures week on X Factor, which is the endearment equivalent of ordering a shot at a bar named after a sex position and not sniggering. I.e. very very endearing.

Dermot dances all over the ashes of his Media and Television with Politics degree with yet another strange selection of dance-moves, which is now becoming our least favourite tradition since Talk Like a Pirate Day, or that other one with the Jesus in it. Not entirely sure who deduced that this would be the new ‘way’, in X Factor ’11. It kind of made sense when Strictly Come Dancing made John Sergeant do it, because he was an elderly ex-journalist with a deeply rooted career in politics and broadcasting and *SMIRK* DIDN’T LOOK LIKE HE’D BE VERY GOOD AT DANCING! Whereas this is just Dermot O’Leary dancing, and there’s nothing we can do to CONTROL the dancing in any way – so therefore we do not like it.

Tulisa annoyed us by having not zero, not one, but two whole arms this week. Not entirely sure which arm annoyed us more – whether it be the one with saying ‘HOW ABOUT YOU PURCHASE MY POORLY TITLED PERFUME RANGE?’ in comic sans or the one telling us to vote for a band called Little Mix to win the X Factor. God, we hate arms so much these days.

Little Mix, or ‘Little Muffins’ as Tulisa has cleverly deduced could be a more annoying version of their actual name were up first, with a bit of a shocker for you here! Not ZERO songs, not ONE song, but TWO WHOLE SONGS were performed for our delight. Two! That’s, like, well that’s quite a lot. That’s like almost as many bits of bollocks Tulisa can write on her arm at one time! God, that woman is a temple of mystery.

One of the songs in question curiously enough turns out to be ‘Baby Baby Baby Ooh’ by Justin Bieber, or something along those lines. We don’t want to Google Justin Bieber, so that’ll be fine, we assume you’re totally okay with us just saying the songs called ‘Baby Baby Baby Ooh’ despite the odds being slightly against our favour that the KKK-esque wizards (Christina Milan, apparently! RIP “QI elves!”) responsible for co-writing that song sunk to the levels of depravity to call it ‘Baby Baby Baby Ooh’. Whatever. It doesn’t matter because it’s an not-very-enjoyable piece of music. Not as not-very-enjoyable as all the other not-very-enjoyable things that are filtered into the Little Mix performance, which in a nutshell involve ‘skater dresses’, kitsch, friendship, having fun, post-modern Pipettes angst, and ruining a Supremes song by putting lots of Canadian R&B smattered all over. Why don’t they just buy a hundred copies of the Female Eunach, strip down to bodices and pour fairy liquid all over them instead? And that is why, we here at hecklerspray moonlight as professional choreographers for popular entertainment programmes in our spare time.

There is a redeeming quality to the whole debacle of course, when Kelly suggests that the One That Embodies Many Aesthetical Traits To That Of The Golden Poison Frog One from Little Mix should beatbox more, and the audience actively boo at the suggestion. The only time the X Factor audience have ever used their evil powers for a slightly funny version of evil. Most of the time it just verges on a bit of o’ piss-annoying nuisance.

Janet “I’m not really into guilty pleasures because I’m not a guilty pleasures person” was up next to perform. Shuffling right along back out of the draining tedium which is your self belief for just a second though…

As you may have recovered in your last therapy session, Janet sang MMMBop by Hanson, and forgot the words. Possibly best if we just glaze over the whole thing and show you our notes that we made at the time.. (Yep, laugh it up. We have a biro. Hahaha. Very funny. Sure you want to download that Iphone 4 update are you?)

“What, did you forget the words or something  but you’re from Ireland, so you’re amazing?” Louis asked her. Janet responded by crying with Celtic charm.

But the moment that somehow clarified everything we’ve ever held close to our lungs was the moment Gary Barlow earnestly discussed with Janet how if he’s being totally, unflinchingly honest, that song required a strong groove vocal, which unfortunately, pre-pubescent 90s’ Hanson hit MMMBop strongly requires. Ah music.

Misha B (Or SatanJudas McMeanie Harold Shipman Pants as we love to scream at her in the street) returned again with some more steadily rising self esteem, in a VT which involved Misha standing around in her room for an indeterminate amount of time pretending to listen to music. You know, like that Clockwork Orange rape that used high speed time-lapse photography! OR ERM, YEAH! X FACTOR! To be FAIR, she does have headphones and a dress with a mouth on (which is where ‘singing’ comes out of) on, so she does actually take music seriously. What a BITCH.

Misha’s performance of Girls Just Wanna Have Fun was obviously very very good, because lo and behold, she’s actually GOOD AT SINGING beyond the tired Windows Movie Maker level of professional editing that led to people thinking she was a bitch in the first place. And she was pretty effing good. Maybe Prince should get a top with a mouth on and some headphones. Even the lighting and the gimp oompa loompa ghostchavs are great! The ironic sportswear is just HILARIOUS! And, altogether, the whole performance is very very fun! Okay. The song Girls Who Just Wanna Have Fun isn’t very fun, but the REST is fun! You know what we’re saying? Bullying. Bet Misha hates those. She’s still probably putting cats into microwaves though. Gary said something or other about 2012 and the performance ended, we assume she’s opening the Olympics. Good.

“I just had fun tonight.” Misha said of the performance. Well, if you want to be that black and white about it.

Up next was Marcus Bloody Collins, singing a song in a manner that plagues our hearts with indifference. Or amazement. Who knows? Maybe it could be both? Maybe it can’t be scientifically deduced? Maybe it’s Schrodinger’s Non-Descript Marcus Collins X Factor Performance?

Next up, to follow whoever the hell that guy was, was Amelia Lily. So young, and so ill-advisedly shoehorned, that she is, but here to stay – forever and ever until she almost certainly gets voted out next week. Amelia sang China In Your Hand, by T’Pau. Nuffin wrong about that, fair enough, they want her to be the awesome one – not a problem with us. Could’ve done with injecting some inflamed hysteric passion, and 80s, and suffering, and muff-strain (not sorry) into the performance, we suppose – but fair enough Amelia, you are after all, only one thousand years old.

“Pah! Nice to hear a version of T’Pau IN TUNE!” Gary chortled into the wake of nothingness of which all his statements tend to congregate towards. Of course, when Gary Barlow makes a joke – you cant expect there not to be unfleetingly dangerous consequences, such as, oh we don’t know, Carol Decker calling Gary a twat on Twitter for an amusing period of time.

Ah, the correct way to use Twitter. How we love it so. Oh, and in case you were wondering (YOU WERE, YOU JUST DIDNT REALISE UNTIL RIGHT BLOODY NOW!) how to use Twitter. Please enjoy yet another handy fucking guide.

THE CORRECT WAY TO USE TWITTER

THE INCORRECT WAY TO USE TWITTER

Here’s a sum up of the 2nd performances.

*Little Mix sing Beautiful! The one that most people do not regard as Beautiful, also sings Beautiful. Obviously, it’s very funny.

* “I am in a band and I understand all about Friendship.” Says Gary Barlow. “Which is why I exiled Robbie Williams for decades and spouted lots of shit about him to the press for years and then shoehorned him back in for extra money because I used up all the minor chords to write mature Take That songs.” he added.

*Janet Devlin sang the least juttery and staccato Red Hot Chilli Peppers song she could find and slabs layer upon layer of dross all over it. Her boyfriend totally gets it.

*“Janet you had a shitty first song” Louis does not say.

*“That is the Janet Devlin that will sell records, this is the Janet Devlin that will sell out tours.” Tulisa does say. Wait who is she talking about? Is she talking about Janis Joplin? Oh no wait, we just assumed Tulisa Contostavlos knows what a Janis Joplin is.

*Kelly Rowland can both emote, and wear a jumper. She is a survivor.

*Gary Barlow tries to start an argument. No body notices.

*Tulisa, clearly having read through too much of the Iraq’s Weapons of Mass Destruction September dossier, tells Janet that “She is predictable, that’s just who you are.” Totz. Amaze.

In conclusion: Little Richard to Win X Factor.

THE RESULTS

Tulisa wore the economy on her neck, The Muppets and Olly Murs defied the milk of human kindness, Janet got voted out, Jessie J suddenly realised how amazing it is that she writes serious music all the time. Yeah, it really is like Sylvia Plath never gave a shit sometimes, Jessie.

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.

Of course, there’s nothing sexual about the Do What You Like video. It’s an instant boner-kill. Far too wacky to be arousing. And of course, there’s nothing steamy about Gary Barlow, unless you’re under the impression that, beneath that vague authority he carries around with him, lies a mean, dominating, S&M fantasist who will treat you like Maggie Gyllenhaal’s red arse in The Secretary.

No doubt, with that image, we’ve lost 90% of our female readers.

Those of you left with us, the X Factor judge and Take That tunesmith is showing his furrowed brow when thinking about his children being subjected to explicit content.

Speaking to OK, he said:

“The other day, I wanted some music in the kitchen and put on one of the music TV channels and a video came on which was so rude that I had to turn it off because my nine-year-old was with me.”

“I have had five nine-year-olds in my back seat singing along to Black Eyed Peas songs with F this, F that and I’m like, ‘Right, I’m stopping the car!’”

Speaking of how he thinks these videos have affected the X Factor auditions, he said:

“It all filters down. We had girls and you wouldn’t believe the kind of moves they were doing. I sat there and thought, ‘Jesus Christ’.”

By which he means, he couldn’t stand up from behind his desk for a good hour thanks to that funny, tingling feeling in his chap.

You’re still thinking about Gary Barlow in a bondage situation aren’t you?

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.

Various reports are suggesting that Rowland will be ‘putting it down’ across the pond after Cowell eyed her up to replace Nicole Scherzinger on the X Factor USA judging panel.

Of course, this poses something of a problem for Kelly, inasmuch that her pop career in the States isn’t exactly setting the Billboard on fire and most of her action is happening in Europe.

A source told the Daily Star has said:

“Simon has been blown away by Kelly.

“He’s made no secret of the fact he thinks she’s the star of the UK show. Simon’s been less impressed with how Nicole is faring in the US.”

It seems that, after the familiarity of years of the same judging panel on X Factor, it now appears that there’s something of a revolving door and Cowell is adopting an approach that basically dispatches those that don’t immediately work.

Just like the auditions in X Factor then, eh?

Alright guys. First thing’s first. Here’s a paragraph about maths, and the fun that maths brings.

It’s Week 14 of The X Factor now, and basically that’s quite an astonishing amount of wasted time. But the big BIG question is: Just how much astonishing amount of wasted time?  WELL FRIENDS, by the hands of Pythagorean law, we can deduce 14 hour  75 minute long shows, except for all the ones that were 2 and half hours instead, (deservedly so, obv) not to mention the definitely necessary results shows too, which are around an hour a piece. We roughly round that up to around 34948 BILLION hours of the X Factor.

Thats 34948 BILLION hours. That’s ages. Do you know what else we all could possibly have done in 34948 BILLION hours? Lots of  other unrelated things, that’s what.

So.. You know. Let’s think about that. Not right now obviously. The X Factor’s on now.

So, it’s MOVIE NIGHT on the X Factor and that can only mean one thing! Someone will sing a James Bond song, and everyone else will sing songs, and assume that they are in films. After all, there are literally quite a lot of films. Like Eastenders – Last Tango in Walford, A Ricky and Bianca Special now available on DVD. That’s sort of like a film. And you know. The Next Karate Kid. That’s DEFINITELY a film.

Dermot of course entered the stage with gold prostitutes, as per, and Gary chastised him for not taking the singing competition seriously, which is a good point and perhaps we all should sit down and have a talk about that at some point.

This week the god-awful shit blizzards that are Dermot’s X Factor introductions, gestated to the point of casually throwing in the phrase “Jedi pop knights”. And the reason he says this is – we don’t have a fucking clue. Not one co-investigator at the NASA center returned any of our calls to help us reach any sort of emotional conclusion. Nasty NASA. Just another one of life’s great mysteries, we suppose. Like Atlantis, Stonehenge, or Eastenders – Last Tango in Walford, A Ricky and Bianca Special.

First up to sing was Craig Colton’s left side of mouth, much to our delight and crushing discomfort. Craig was incredibly privileged to be given the token “Hey guys, here’s a thought. EVERY single James Bond film has a song in it for definite!” production choice of License to Kill. First thing’s first. A lot of people saying License to Kill is rubbish on various social networking bunkers. Would just like to say that License to Kill is not rubbish at all, is it. You were mistaken. It’s okay, there’s no need to be embarrassed. It’s natural. It happens to the best of us. You had an underlying potassium deficiency and weren’t really feeling all that hot.  Hey. Totally okay.

Of course none of that was at all relevant when Craig Colton then went on ahead and tuxedo’d the shit out of  it, therefore making the song null and void forever anyway. Louis didn’t like the song choice, because he is an idiot. Tulisa doesn’t like it either, which she says with clean hair oddly enough. Oh no wait, it’s just dry shampoo again. False alarm. Kelly loved it though! Know why? Because she loves everything, because she is an awesome, sexy, together young whore. Why do X Factor not encourage personal hygiene by the way? Is it because everyone feels guilty and want to punish themselves? Oh right then. Gary made his points on the matter perfectly cast iron clear by wearing a carpet jacket. Well said.

So how did Craig feel about being battered to death verbally by ‘women’ and ‘Louis Walsh’, with the only person in the world defending him being the man who wrote The Flood?

“Well I think it’s one of the best theme songs of a Bond song” is what. Good point well made, Craig. License to Kill is so fucking amazing that it gets its OWN THEME SONG. We’re going to press the hell out of the Grooveshark love heart button on THAT little number later.

“It wasn’t a great Bond song, let alone a great song. I AM A STUPID IDIOT.” added Louis.

In one of the ad breaks there was a bit of a maelstrom of confused feelings of a nation when it for some reason transpired Westlife are still doing things together even though they split up 85 years ago. Not a big problem, of course. Just a bit worried we won’t ever get the closure we need and deserve on that one. That’s all.

Returning from all that hustle and bustle and brouhaha then, and on toward Janet Devlin singing a Sixpence None The Richer CLASSIC (If you like) from the Academy Award-laden remordernist movie (or ‘video poem’ as we like to think of it) How to Lose A Guy In Ten Days. Oh that’s good. Is it the Heath Ledger version of Can’t Take My Eyes Off You? Because if it is we suspect that’s the real reason he died five years ago, so he wouldn’t have to be in the same atmosphere as that event going on. And you know what else? Heath Ledger wasn’t even in How To Lose A Guy In Ten Days, he was in Ten Things I Hate About You, so that’s even worse.

But before all of that bollocks, we first have to help Janet decide which shit dress to wear for the big night. “Theyre trying to dress me up as a fairy princess, but that’s not me AS WE ALL KNOW.” she told us, before then going to the Twilight premiere, in a dress, before then going on stage singing Sixpence None The Richer in a dress, singing about wearing dresses in the bearded barley, in a dress. What a massive lezzer. Nonetheless, the judges crawl all over her like she’s Ghandi’s answer to The New Ghandi, Ghandi 2 or something along those lines, and Louis announced to the world that she had “Natural Celtic Charm” as a result. What ‘Natural Celtic Charm’ would this be? Mel Gibson’s?  Tulisa still can’t get over the fact that life is not a Calvin Harris remix, and instead of critique, decides to roll with a collection of sentences of absolutely no worth instead. Which is fair enough.

Dermot O Leary Performance Art Piece, shot in 16 mm film #77
An Interview with Janet Devlin

Dermot: How come you’re tall?
Janet: Erm.

Still trying to apologise for 6 weeks of Frankie Cocozza, here was the proper return of Amelia Lily. As Cilla Black might say, that’s a lorra lorra sadomasochistic guilt complexes subtly being revealed! So, Amelia has now taken firm establishment back into the competition, and by that we mean she’s been shoehorned into the M&S X Factor christmas advert in place of Frankie. You may have definitely had your eyes forcibly held open by metal rods and seen that at some point. Poor Frankie. This is exactly like the time everyone woke up and smelt the LOGICAL COFFEE and exiled Kerry Katona out of Atomic Kitten’s Whole Again video and digitally edited in Jenny Frost. We liked it loads (or for an alternative viewpoint, ‘weren’t bothered in the slightest’) when that happened.

For Movie Night, Amelia chose to sang an Aretha Franklin song, by Aretha Franklin. That’s Aretha Franklin, the quite famous singer, Aretha Franklin for you there. You may not have heard of her though, because it’s not like she’s Aretha Franklin or anything. Tulisa, for example – has not heard of Aretha Franklin, which is totally fine and again, fair enough. Thankfully, Gary was on hand to inform us all that the track was a semitone TOO FUN tonight. Good point, Gary. Sorry about that Gary. I’m sure she didn’t mean to go overboard there. Probably just all that Type 1 Diabetes she has.

Sorry Gary. We know that Type 1 Diabetes isn’t the funny kind of Diabetes, really. We’ll strip the chocolate off our Milky Ways and belt ourselves to death in a perversely gratifying manner later, we promise.

But never mind all that now, or you’ll miss The X Factor’s competition to win 10,000 pounds AND to meet Olly Murs! Which is a really great way to make someone absolutely not want 10,000 pounds. But that’s Olly Murs, Singer, Hater of Bob Marley, Presenter, and Human Equivalent of Time Share for you.

Next up was Misha B, having a terrible time once again, and it reminded us all of when Joan of Arc had a terrible time. But it’s okay, because now she can sing I Have Nothing, and Dermot O Leary can make her feel uncomfortable whilst she’s crying! Meanwhile, Gary Barlow emoted.

Little Mix wore tuxedos! We enjoyed Ocelot Little Mix’s the most. (That’s the Hecklerspray ‘THERE IS AN UGLY MEMBER OF LITTLE MIX’ official joke, by the way. It’s so-so, granted. But probably better than whatever the hell Heatworld have gone for.)

Marcus Collins next who for some reason didn’t look like he was allowed to go to the Twilight premiere and has to go in a room and talk to Rebecca Ferguson instead. Probably only because people from Liverpool are unyielding and dangerous, so no biggy. This week, Marcus is singing Mark Ronson by Mark Ronson AGAIN, because he has just discovered ‘the past’ about six thousand years into the competition. Maybe next week Marcus will further abandon the noughties, and hum Greensleeves, whilst beating to death the personality of yet another able-bodied woman, in a cravat.

And somehow, somewhere, someday the show ended. So what did we learn? That we fancy Kelly Rowland again? That will have to do. Same time next week?

THE RESULTS

• Rihanna has ANOTHER album out, this one doesn’t seem to have as much vag-play in it as is the norm, however. This equates to us being disinterested.
• Michelle McManus tweets about how she’s confused as to why she’s trending on Twitter because some guy called Craig Colton has been voted off The X Factor.
• Rebecca Ferguson is attractive, so there we have it.
• Bryan Adams turned up, with added old age, and sans 90s Lesbian Version of Mel C. All in all, not a good time was had.
• Lloyd Daniels from Old X Factor once went on a tour of all the UK Shakeaways. That’s a chain of children’s milkshake shops, by the way. Here is a video.
• Dermot talks to Little Mix about something, and Little Mix don’t really hear what he says.
• Janet Devlin gets through. Hiroshima get angsty again.
• Every portion of Tulisa Contostavlos continues to be very very stupid. This week, Tulisa mistakes the universe for a Pitbull song.
• Caroline Flack is ramming one of One Direction these days, apparently. Anyone got anything of worth to say about that?
• Oh, apparently Craig and Danyl Johnson are necking now. We hope Danyl doesn’t throw around his love for Craig in a blasé manner like he used to do with his microphones, when people used to let Danyl Johnson have microphones.

Next week, and we’re not even fucking joking, but Jessie J and OLLY MURS FOR THE 453345453TH TIME will be in the studio. Olly Murs is in the studio every week of course, due to having, oh we don’t know, a JOB THERE or something else ultimately otherworldly to believe, but be that as it may – he will be on even moreso than usual next week for our viewing pleasure.

Wizard.

THIS WEEK! ITS TIME! TO SING! SONGS FROM MOVIES! And probably not do a very good job at them. It’s ‘Movie Week’ everybody. That’s song from films that have been released in the old cinema.

Past year’s have had some truly terrifying performances, like Olly Murs waggling his penis to ‘Twist And Shout,’ Joe McElderry being generally closeted singing ‘Circle of Life’ and the Dreadward doing ‘Ghostbusters.’

There was also the dichotomy of awful and brilliance (and the resurgence of Louis Walsh’ famed Rulebook) when Jamie Afro (the awful) sang ‘Crying’ by Roy Orbison from the brilliantly nihilistic film Gummo. Needless to say Louis had no idea what Gummo was and almost lost his Lucky Charms over it, but what was stranger was Simon Cowell did know what it was. Perhaps he tried to buy the rights to remake the film with Eoghan Quigg as Bunny Boy. Or perhaps he knew that the most diverse film Louis Walsh has seen was ‘Priscilla, Queen Of The Desert,’ and wanted to really blow sand up his vagina.

This week’s show, if the rumours are true, is set to be another blandfest, with songs that everyone knows from films, like ‘Purple Rain’ or ‘Stand By Me’ being wheeled out to the delight of people who don’t understand the true beauty of the movie theme.

Well we’ll look after you, avid hecklersprayers.

Get your flask of Bovril, your Viscount biscuit and we’ll take you on a magical trip through what songs the contestants should be singing if the people playing the X Factor strings had any cojones

Janet Devlin – Kiss From A Rose

Janet is the dullest contestant in this competition; she’s the blandest dullard since beige pissed off the rest of the rainbow and set out on his journey to be the worst of all colours. Even black doesn’t get as much guff as much as beige does. And black has the worst body odour since Russell Grant went onto Strictly. Stand next to black while you’re waiting for a bus and you’ll think you’ve been eating some good cheese or bad fish. Or Pixie Lott.

There’s not much that Janet can do about it, even being edited to be bolshy and uppity isn’t doing the desired effect. All that’s going to happen is that when she leaves the competition, no one will want to touch Ellie Goulding Lite because she has such a bad attitude to things that she doesn’t like, so why not try what we suggest and give her an ultra-dramatic song that sounds like the one that she likes to sing?

Which is why we picked Seal’s Kiss From A Rose. It’s not the most taxing of songs to sing, admittedly, but when it comes to Janet Devlin, everyone is more concerned with how Irish she looks. She’s like the most Irish woman. Even Gerry Adams, a man who lives in a perpetual state of Movember, would think that she was taking it too far.

Everyone likes Kiss From A Rose, just like everyone likes Seal, despite his face. It won’t save her from being kicked off, but we might as well make the very most of her before she leaves the show and resigns herself from falling out of China White with her mosquito bites on show.

Misha B – Coconut

Coconut by Harry Nilsson is a genius song. It’s equally great parts of reggae Island swing and a song about medical procedure. Which you just don’t get enough of. Imagine if the staff of Casualty released a song about how shit the NHS was. It would be 100% fantastic. Of course it would end with Charlie getting off with that bird with the big hair and Jude getting stabbed by a smack addict.

The problem with Misha B is that everyone is getting bogged down by the claims of bullying slung at her like a monkey slings poop. Does anyone really, REALLY care whether she’s a bully and that she said that one from Little Mix looked like the lovechild of Sloth and Quasimodo, using a frog as a surrogate?

Of course we don’t. It’s not going to affect our lives one little quark is it. In fact, it just gives us a chance to get outraged at something we can do something about. Y’know what that’s called people? Pointless. If you want to change the World, why not stop showering and wiping yourself after a number two. Eventually, because humans are essentially cowards, people will stop talking to you.

This probably won’t happen to Misha B, but she does take everything so seriously. To such an extent that when she talks now, post-performance, or gaping into Olly Murs’ bulging crotch on ITV2, she talks like an excitable puppy on it’s first Christmas, after just regaining it’s sight, and getting a crafty BJ. Don’t think that she hasn’t been told to do this. Of course she has. It’s like when Rachel Adedeji mimicked the nonsensical neighings of Stacey Solomon the brief time that she wasn’t in the Bottom Two. Reeks of insincerity and weirdy icky-woos.

So what Misha needs to do is do something so unbelievably stupid and happy that it blows every sad thing into the World’s orbit, leaving behind sunshine, rainbows and Gregg’s pain au chocolat.

‘Coconut’ would do this. Add a dubstep-lite beat if you want, and even add a rap about the toil of a nurse’s working day. But as long as she keeps the bare bones of the song intact, it would change the World of X Factor as we know it.

Craig Colton – Wise Up

Not very many people know of Aimee Mann, and those who do are maudlin weirdos. Although she may be an accomplished singer/songwriter, she has yet to write a song that wouldn’t want to make you take a long bath with a razor blade. It’s very depressing songs about lost loves and wasted opportunities.

Which is just what the male version of Adele is making a niche of. And when we say the ‘male version of Adele’ we mean all the savage obesity as well. He’s so fat that somewhere Donatella Versace is having an eppy. Although how you would know is beyond me, she already talks with a slur with a half drooped face. Someone should probably alert Queen of Strokes Su Johnston to see if Donatella is alright. Go on. We’ll wait.

Everything alright? Fantastic.

With his cheeky quiff and the way he sings out the side of his mouth, like Dot Cotton with a fag hanging out of her scabby anus of a mouth, Craig is irritatingly talented. It seems like he can sing any Adele song almost as good as the chain smoking eclair maven. What a talent! Gary Barlow must have a right wide-on thinking that he can give Craig any song sung by a woman and get accolades thrown far and wide about how they have put their own spin on the song, even though you could go to LITERALLY any gay club and find some man singing a song by a woman. It’s not that big a deal. REALLY.

Wise Up is a depressing missive that Craig can snarl out on a Saturday and people will coo ‘Isn’t he sensitive?’ between mouthfuls of Domino’s Pizza. Job done Barlow, you can thank us in your Knighthood speech.

Marcus Collins – Loco In Acapulco

Marcus Collins is fast becoming one of the most consistent performers on this series of the X Factor, with his full toothed grin and his trademark catchphrase of “I’m having fun” bringing out those homoerotic feelings in straight, not-so straight men and Louis Walsh alike.

Of late, Marcus has been told to sing songs with a rock and roll type production, with fancy dance moves and trousers that maybe are a little too tight for someone who wants to move around and not look like he’s got a constant erective presence. I mean, what would OFCOM say if they realised his Dondelinger was practically on show. Well, we’ll probably find out a few weeks after everyone gets their boxer shorts knotted in impotent rage.

So it would be a shame for him to put away his penis and Buddy Holly-esque tendencies just yet. So instead of going all Bruno Mars-lite on us another week, we suggest that Barlow brings the whole production forward a decade and emulate the Soul Train era of Motown.

Tighter trousers, brighter teeth, take everything to extremes. Lets blind Katie Price with Marcus’ teeth Gary. Let’s blind the bitch. Let’s do to her what she’s done to teenage boys for years.

Amelia Lily – Beauty School Dropout

To be quite honest, we can give or take Amelia Lily at this stage in the competition. Her addition at this point seems a bit rapey, in that it’s forced and not what everyone wanted. Her booming vocals might be just what the producers are after but have you seen the clip of her? The candy floss hair and enough makeup to blot out the Sun just scream college education, and this isn’t what anyone likes to see when watching X Factor. We want good looking people who might or not be able to sing. They might be batshit mental like Kitty, or unnervingly charming like Johnny, but as long as they look good then we’re not bothered.

It’s generally give and take in the hecklerspray hovel. If there’s no masturbatory undertones then you probably won’t win our X Factor. And there’s no wanking material with Amelia Lily. Do you know why? Because she’s sixteen and already been fingered by professional coke monster Frankie Cocozza. That’s not nice at all. It does give anyone the belief that anyone could have a gan on her; she’s clearly not fussy.

Having Amelia sing ‘Beauty School Dropout’ from Grease is a fantastic idea for all because it’s a bit tongue in cheek. She looks enough of a mess to authentically be a beauty school dropout and has Frenchie’s hair as well, so this would be the most aesthetically hilarious.

Little Mix – Hip To Be Square

hecklerspray disclaimer: If you think that saying nasty things about Jesy Little Mix is one of the World’s worst things, then you probably shouldn’t read this. Consider this a warning.

Listen to a joke we all know: What’s green and smells of pork? Jesy’s mam and dad. That’s right everybody. We’re going in for the kill here. If someone has actively gone out of their way to attempt to make us feel sorry for someone who thinks its acceptable to dress in such a ridiculous manner, then they deserve everything that we say about them, Sir.

Without a shadow of a doubt, Little Mix are probably going to win this year’s X Factor. The combination of public pity because one of their member looks like someone over inflated a rugby ball and somewhat catchy interpretations of songs will carry them through to the final at least, where Jesy will probably crack under the pressure of having to march on a box AND sing a song everyone knows, making her head will pop like what happens in that Total Recall.

Sounds great doesn’t it?

Even though her face will be blown into numerous squidgy pieces, she will still be able to look at her bandmates with the fervent excitement of a toddler who’s just pumped for the first time*.

To get Little Mix some sort of credence before they shuffle off into some Cher Lloyd-esque nightmare, we think they should sing ‘Hip To Be Square’ by one of the best things about Back To The Future, Huey Lewis and The News, but not just any version. We want to see a version that is either a) a military marching band a la Gwen Stefani during the most successful part of her career, b) a plinky plonky sounding homage to The Cure with someone looking like Robert Smith or c) an acoustic version to show us how well they can actually sing.

In reality, we would probably get a version that Rizzle Kicks could pass off on their difficult second album, with rhythmic marching on perspex boxes and ill fitting trousers on. But they’re just like every other girl in Britain so that’s alright.

Except that most other girls in Britain are screaming harridans who threaten to make their boyfriend’s lives Hell in the local branch of Peacocks because they haven’t paid up some money they were promised. That’s what men have to look forward to now.

And that’s that. Do you agree or disagree? Tell us below. You know it makes sense. If you don’t, we’ll send Jesy round and she’ll just peer in your window at night; looking, planning. Touching herself.

* Remember how great life was back then?

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Remember that.

That might come in handy later. Or every single broadcasted moment of The X Factor for the past week. Well, not quite but it’s better safe than sorry.

Yeah, well we didn’t really want to be ‘that guy’, but The X Factor has been an bit of an absolute odious hodgepodge of horse sputum this week, hasn’t it? First and foremost we were lumbered with the responsibility of knowing that Frankie Cocozza was kicked off the show for breaking “the golden rule of X Factor”, which is something unspecified to do with sex/drugs/the producers realising that Frankie’s incredibly annoying personality traits never progressed to the desired point where an audience would love to hate him, and simply just tapered off to being mildly dicked off about him for a few good minutes instead.

Like an unpleasant bout of German measles, rather than say, CancerAids.

As X Factor producers rightly know, they can do plenty better than that, so off with Frankie, and in with an entirely irritating decision to bring back four of the contestants who they knocked back on the first show instead. That’s Jonjo Kerr, Amelia Lily, James Michael or Two Shoes (No? Us neither).

Ooh, them X Factors don’t half rile us up. WE HATE IT WHEN PEOPLE BREAK THE RULES IN GAMES.

Now, maybe we’ve been reading too much Agatha Christie here, (or maybe we’ve never read an Agatha Christie book ever because that would cut into our often reckless and tawdry lifestyles) but HMM and MMM.  Quite convenient in a way that an X Factor contestant just happened to be a mental stupid idiot and get kicked off the show, and also pretty handy that The X Factor just happened to have four ‘spares’ that they rifled off in Show 1, isn’t it?

Mmm. Pretty interesting. Mmm. They don’t fool us. Mmm. Panorama.

Wait a moment, our allegorical phone is ringing. Hello? Stephen Moffatt? You want us to be in your next series of Sherlock? That’s very nice of you Stephen Moffatt, unfortunately we’re not professional actors and that would be tremendously poor casting, but can we talk about how you ballsed up Doctor Who with gaping, irresponsible plot holes if you like. Hello? STEPHEN? HELLO?

Sorry, all this idle, immature speculation and all you wanted to do was read about the X Factor. Sorry.

The first fifteen minutes of The X Factor were awash with technical difficulties to which the Exasperated ITV1 Apologetic Voiceover Man had to apologise for countless times, as if it genuinely mattered. Nonetheless, he was so god-awful sorry about it and was literally sobbing all over a hastily spliced together XF audition montage of Janet Devlin, The Boston Molasses Disaster of 1919, and you know, the other greatest moments of The X Factor.

This week was Gaga vs Queen week. Which sounds terrible. But we’re only saying that because it does sound genuinely awful. Kelly Rowland totally wore a tuxedo which resulted in us wanting to ram a foreskin up against her furiously, in the sort of affectionate way that the Felix cat does.  Hopefully that message will get passed on.

But before we labour under the misapprehension that Amelia Lily has definitely not already been chosen since the end of the antediluvian era to come back to X Factor, (don’t try and teach your children that, we were using comedy hyperbole) we are shown the good good times of the four new contenders who get to skip 6 weeks into the live finals and it’s no biggy at all.

Unlike in 2007 when it was punishable by death penalty, such as when Diana Vickers took a week off from performing on the X Factor and was nationally ridiculed by the masses for being a massive skiving cheat and was dragged through the streets, tied to the back of a cart.

Or for you more authentic losers out there, take 2001, Pop Idol Series 1, where Rik Waller was turfed off the show for not bothering to turn up for one of the weeks. So in a way, we’ve all matured somewhat – and that is called character building.

So, who are these fab four that we, the public- the powerful, all unanimous, made up of 15 year old girls public- have to pick? Not Amelia Lily, that’s for sure.

AMELIA LILY!

Amelia has an old dad who used to sing like Paul Weller with hair like Paul Weller but strangely enough never made it, so she caked her face full of volcanic ash and Barry M lipliner and went on the telly instead, like any good daughter would who hasn’t partaken in human traficking. Everyone thought she was well good considering she was 900 years old/16 years old.

TWO SHOES!

Two Shoes are like Beyonce but actually pregnant. Also known as: AMAZING. Also, they don’t use suffixes at all, and say things like ‘totz emosh’ which means ‘totally emotional’ in gaelic.

JAMES MICHAEL!

James Michael has a boring first name and last name, but don’t let that make you think he’s boring or anything, when in actual fact we’ll have you know he’s actually gut wrenchingly offensively the worst person we’ve ever seen. Not only does he wear a hat AND is ‘submissive’, with eyes, face, and a perfectly fully working respitory system, but ON TOP OF ALL THAT – he sang the worst cover version of Ticket to Ride since The Darkness did that song ‘One Way Ticket to Hell and Back’, which okay, admittedly was a completely different song, but had the word ticket in, and is The Darkness, so in hindsight…fair enough.

JONJO KERR!

Jesus. Obviously all that palaver went on for a nice round 300 hours, and the show didn’t set off running til around THE FUTURE O’ CLOCK, or something along those lines. We exaggerate.

First up to perform was Kitty Brucknell, who unfortunately has been the product of bullying this week. Now, we don’t want to get into the whole ‘thing’, but basically that absolute slagwhore Trivial-Pursuit-Family-Edition-disgrace-of-a-bitch Misha B has been herself, and like the momentous bitch that she is and STOLEN through sheer force the Lady Gaga song that Kitty kinda wanted to sing this week. Absolutely disgraceful. Not, like, Nu Vibe being voted off the X Factor disgraceful, we mean, like, SARS disgraceful. Like, Steps Reunion Tour Disgraceful. The big leagues. Thankfully, exasperated ITV1 Apologetic Voiceover Man apologises on Misha’s behalf.

Instead, Kitty was pinned to the floor by the X Factor producers and forced at knife point to sing ‘Don’t Stop Me Now’ by Queen instead. She came dressed for the occasion with the usual large metal clamps they’ve taken to fusing to the sides of her head to keep all the crazy in. But despite all the upset and chaos the week brought, we still thought Kitty was BrianMayBlogPost-mazing. The judges didn’t agree with us, but probably just because we’re immensely talented and they are tragically brain damaged. Kelly gives some pretty constructive criticism about leather horses though, so there is that.

Craig Colton said before the start of his really boring version of Paparazzi.

“I want to be unique and have my own sound.”

Nothing like Gary Barlow to pop on over and introduce some much needed falsetto tutorials into the performance to jazz up  a performance though. “Phew!” as some sort of wacky maverick of pop culture like Daffy Duck or Berlusconi might say.
THANKFULLY, Craig did another song in the E B C# A- chord progression, which really is becoming ‘his thing’.

We love it.

Apparently Craig is straight as well, singing ‘Girl’ instead of ‘Boy is mine’ despite appaz being openly being out. Huh. If only Dannii Minogue was here to point out in a passive-aggressive way. That was the same week it all came out that she was a paedophile too, but we still massively respect her judgement. Craig sang the song fine, but that’s not our issue. Our issue is moreso – Why does Craig sing constantly with candles? Because it’s bath night? But it’s not bath night anymore Craig. It’s the X Factor now, where you have to be straight, and have showers. With women.

Lol. Middle England.

This week, Little Mix gave a shit about The Risk leaving the competition. You know, like it was a massive shock. Like The Houses of Parliament wrote a thing about it and put it on a thing.

Little Mix sang ALL the Lady Gaga songs, but Misha was still the bitch for singing the one Kitty wanted. It’s pretty good actually, you know, for the X Factor. Not for the real world, or anything mind. If we had to pick between Janis Joplin or a polystyrene clad polystyrene shaped woman singing Telephone, we’d obviously, obviously… *mumbles incoherently*

Kelly then said something awesome in a suit, but we don’t listen because she’s wearing a suit. Like a vampire. Vampires are sexy, aren’t they, children? Periods are SEXY. And for more info on becoming women for the first time, Google Vampire Cunt to learn more about puberty and the pressures of growing up.

In a scene akin to when the Elephant Man cried with confusion when the blind woman touched his face, Little Mix were asked if they wanted some sort of musical individuality by Dermott O Leary. They were fine, thanks.

After a quick consultation with Greek Goddess of Awesome Kelly Rowland, it was  Janet Devlin, do you want to take massive steps backwards before we accidentally attempt to make you interesting? Yeah sure, that should be fine. Here’s some hemp. This week, Janet sang  ‘Somebody to Love’ accompanied by John Lewis. That’s a joke about how twee and boring they’ve made another song that doesn’t usually sound like this. Still, to be fair to Janet, and we really want to try and get past our own anxieties here – our honest opinion of the performance is basically that it was boring as shit and we want to kill ourselves. So, there is that. Tulisa says that being one dimensional is great, and that she has to be in the sort of mood to listen to music that is not ballsed up hiphop ie: never. Dermot tries to argue with the judges for not all saying nice things all the time. Thankfully, Exasperated ITV1 Apologetic Man apologises for Janet’s performance.

Contemporary yet vintage at the same time is the sort of thing Marcus Collins likes to do now, apparently. We’re sure you’ve heard all about it. It’s a bit like the future, except the past instead. Marcus sang ‘Another One Bites The Dust’, but with the aforementioned contemporary yet vintage twist we were going on about before. We can almost hear Mark Ronson smashing up his brass instrument collection. Weird how these specific events correlate.

Tulisa still upset that this is not RnB either. Gary informed us that we’re in the presence of a popstar, so we all hush and have a serious think about that. Louis Walsh uses the word ‘charisma’, which means ‘charismatic’, not ‘gay’, just in case the repressed masses in the wake of Craig Colton’s lies were feeling a bit over-sensitive about that one.

SKY TV advert has stolen all of Billy Crystal’s jokes but never mind.

Dermott tells a lie about how the technical difficulties were technical difficulties and then goes on to tell us about how Lady Gaga is on the show tomorrow! HER. We have heard of her off the radio 1. And as Dermott rightfully says, “She’ll probably turn up in a bath or something crazy!” – Because nothing is more crazy than a bath.

Misha said in her VT before singing Lady Gaga’s self penned ballad about the life and tribulations of Kitty Brucknell:

“This song touches a special place in Kitty Brucknell’s heart, so I fucking ripped it off.”

Oh, and she’s doing Manchester proud. Again. Not Why does everyone give a shit about if Misha is from Manchester or not? Do they really think people from Manchester vote for the X Factor? Do they really think people from Manchester have phones?

Louis post-Charlie Kaufman box set said:

“You remind me of Louis Walsh being a racist”

Kelly insincerely crossed her fingers even though everyone on Twitter knows Amelia Lily is through for about the last 40 minutes. “It was literally like having my heart ripped out,” says Amelia. Wow, that would probably be really painful. Especially for a woman of her age. (80 years old.)

Amelia sings the totally unprepared The Show Must Go On WHICH IS PROBABLY AN OBLIQUE META REFERENCE TO THE WORLD OF X FACTOR – but it also might not be. There are a lot of things a bit dodgy about the whole Amelia Lily thing, sure. The main thing being that 2 Shoes  didn’t get to come back and that was proper proper batshit bollocks and RUBBISH too. But we’ll let it slide, because we listened to Patience to Take That once, so consequently have bigger problems. But nonetheless, Amelia Lily was so good at singing, that Vlad Rowling said “Welcome freaking back.” So, now you know all about singing.

THE RESULTS

For the first time in the history of the Tudor dynasty, this review was written before the results were aired. But as if we were going to let a little thing like actual cast iron fact get in the way of talking about The X Factor. Basically, Jamie Lee Curtis and Lindsay Lohan play a mother and daughter who don’t particular get on very well, until a magical fortune cookie changed the way they would think about themselves forever, with hilarious capers and important lessons learnt along the way.

And Kitty got voted out.

Probably.

Well would you believe it? Frankie Cocozza has been given the heave-ho from the X Factor, which means that all you people who hate him won’t have blood erupting from your eyes every Saturday night.

Are you happy? Of course you’re not. Janet Devlin still exists with her faux-modesty, which is a crime far worse than false-cockiness.

Either way, Frankie Cockzilla is gone according to reports… but why? Well, apparently, he’s broken a ‘golden rule’, and that can only mean one thing.

So what has Cocozza done? Well, he’s been partying hard, apparently. He’s also been having sex with people, apparently. These things aren’t surprising as he first came to our attention by showing the world his colon, complete with the names of various girls tattooed on it.

He’s such a scamp, isn’t he?

A show source said to The Sun:

“Frankie is devastated but he has broken a golden rule so producers had no option but to axe him. He had an extra boost from being kept in at the weekend when he thought he was going to go.”

“But now his dream is officially over and he only has himself to blame.”

It’s obvious that everyone is going to point the finger at Frankie’s partying, leading to the conclusion that Cocozza has run out of chances as quickly as the show’s producers have run out of patience.

You could also look at the fact that Frankie caused TV regulator Ofcom to be irritated when he yelled ‘fucking ‘ave it!’ after he got through on October 23rd, before the watershed.

However, all these a good for ratings and TV notoriety if you’re a lamewad who works on a squeaky clean pop-show.

No, it’s obvious that Cocozza has broken THE biggest golden rule of The X Factor – he’s told the show or a sponsor to sling their hook. He’s probably told Marks and Spencer that their advert is lousy or something like that…

…and gawd knows, you don’t come between Simon Cowell and his advertisers.

Frankie says:

‘I’d like to apologise to Gary, my fellow contestants and everyone who has voted for me, but, as of today, I will no longer be in The X Factor’

‘My life during the show has gone out of control and my behaviour off stage has over-stepped the rules of the competition.

‘I no longer deserve my place in the show, so I am therefore leaving. I would like to thank everyone who has supported me.’

Doesn’t stop Cocozza from being a massive, massive gobshite who deserves to be horsewhipped in a public square mind you. Insert your own Frankie Cokeuser jokes here, if you believe THOSE OTHER RUMOURS.

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Have a nice time at the fireworks, did you? Ate a potato and wrote the F word with a sparkler, did we? Well – that’s quite enough satire for one day, guys. It’s a double elimination on the X Factor, and in a few weeks we’re going to have a professional musician on our hands, so best we save all that horseplay for the weekends, don’t you think?

This weekend, we had a DOUBLE Elimination. No-one was safe apart from the four X Factor contestants who haven’t contracted mildly unpleasant yeast infections yet.

And of course, Kelly Rowland was back and not ill anymore. Unlike last week, where she was really ill, in bed with illness, caused by ILL. Thank god she made it through.

As you already know (seeing as you watched the show and have something of a memory) the theme this week was DANCE FLOOR CLASSICS, but not like when NME invented an award category called DANCE FLOOR FILLERS (ie: an excuse to give the Arctic Monkeys more entirely redundant moments of self worth).

The show kicked off with the doomed Johnny “Poor Johnny” Robinson. Johnny was pleased in a sexually indistinct manner about how his performance went last week, and is having such a great time despite the fact he is 45 years old. Aww, Johnny, that’s ni- WAIT A SECOND. 45 years old? WHEN?

Johnny’s DANCE FLOOR CLASSIC NOT DANCE FLOOR FILLER track of choice was obviously Hung up by Madonna interspersed mid-way with You Spin me Round by Dead or Alive. If you missed it, yes, it was exactly as stupid as it sounded. Shut up, yes it did. Shut up.

Gary Barlow, or as we like to call him, Gary “A Joke About How Gary Barlow Has The Same Name As Ken Barlow Who Also Has A Mild Personality And Amusingly The Same Last Name Too” Barlow thought it was absolutely awful, but then immediately contradicted himself by saying Johnny sounded like a karaoke night in Scarborough, which quite frankly sounds incredible. But Johnny, who presumably gets an odd feeling of clarity from being shamed but just can’t put his finger on why, joked and laughed and used Loose Women idioms and made everything better. God, Gary Barlow is so boring like Ken Barlow who amusingly has the same last name as him, isn’t he?

Thankfully GODESS OF EXCITEMENT AND MASS INTEREST Janet Devlin was on hand to sing the Jackson 5! What could POSSIBLY go wrong aside from every single nerve ending and crevice in the universe thinking that sounds like an absolutely appalling idea? That’s right. Nothing. And to prove how mentally incapacitated (in a cute way, not in a Kitty Brucknell way) Janet danced! BUT, and this is a very imperative but, not with backing dancers because that would distract from the music. Come on now Janet, it’s only the X Factor. It’s not as if this is a karaoke night in Scarborough or anything where someone could actually BENEFIT musically or anything.

Nonetheless, Janet provided an absolutely life-changing performance of I Want You Back and it is really so fantastic, that on a scale of 1 to Fantastic, she would be a ten(tastic). Don’t worry, you can check that on a calculator later. Here are our top 5 (Like the Jackson 5, which is really clever of us, quite frankly.) favourite things about Janet’s performance of “I Want You Back” by the Jackson 5, and why we liked them the best.

1. Janet wore a cape made of tassles. We liked this because it was a really original sort of thing to wear, and you don’t see those much really, and it was like a breath of fresh air.
2. Janet’s backing band were clearly having a fantastic time, dancing along even though that sort of thing would risk detracting from the music. (Be careful next time guys, that’s all we’re saying.) Anyway, it was really nice regardless, and It was like a breath of fresh air.
3. Janet forgot the words to one of the most famous records of all time, but it was a really different take on the song, which we loved, just because it was basically like a massive breath of fresh air.
4. Janet sang lots of notes out-of-tune and sounded a bit like she had vetoed lungs for the evening . And the reason we enjoyed this part of her performance was because we really really like bronchitis, and although some might find this simile inappropriate considering we’ve just said that, it really was, literally, we kid you not, like a literal breath of fresh AIR.
5. But our favourite thing about Janet’s performance of I Want You Back by the Jackson 5 was that she was herself. And in this day and age of materialism and war, something like that is really rare to come by. We don’t really know how to put it. Sorry. That’s embarrassing.

Oddly enough, the judges disagreed with us and thought it was really terrible. Can’t remember exactly what they said, but it was something along the lines of…

KELLY: *Flares nostrils*
TULISA: That was awful. I have menstrual cramps and I’m in N Dubz.
GARY: I don’t think that was a very good performance, but I’m wearing a velvet tie.
LOUIS: Keith Duffy Keith Duffy Brilliant Black People are Bad Keith Duffy Amazing The X Factor Brilliant Pop Stars Beautiful Beautiful Keith Duffy.

Next up to do some singing was everybody’s favourite man called Craig Colton, who is fast developing his journey on the X Factor as a man who can sing a bit, to a man with a slightly more styled fringe who can sing a bit. Seriously, it’s like two entirely different people, unlike everyone’s favourite Satanists and extreme sports fans The Risk! who are ostensibly one person’s worth of personality. They sang ‘make this a night to remember’, even though the night they sang it on was Bonfire Night, which we’re quite sure is pretty much set in stone in everybody’s minds by now. Can’t be too careful though.

Following that terminally insane melodious ruckus was Marcus Collins who sang a song about Urban Outfitters Homeware Section or something. Gary called it the ‘performance of the season’, which probably would have sounded impressive if it hadn’t been verbalized via the voice of Gary Barlow.

Kitty Brucknell and her balmy ol’ depressive emotional frame (or ‘personality’ as we’re calling it apparently) were back once again. Jesus, imagine living with both her AND The Risk in The X Factor House. Now there’s an establishment with a fridge where someone’s definitely not properly closed the fish fingers box. Kitty was up to her old tricks again (because she is emotionally alone) for her performance of Like a Prayer. Kitty totally pro-involved some more obscure musical techniques to show off her range, such as singing ‘Acapella, or ‘like Sister Act 2’. So off she popped wearing a honking big robe with lots of other robed people, because monks are funny. Thankfully, the judges are also incredibly prejudice towards religious traditions and loved Kitty’s performance, with Tulisa, wise old sage that she is, announcing that Kitty is the kind of artist that could literally hold a CONCERT. God, a concert. Calm down Tulisa, this isn’t BBC Proms.

Eurgh. Frankie Cocozza then followed up, but not without another warning from Fun House presenter Gary Barlow to not have too much sex or drinking or happiness this week, or in other words “Stop doing things that make people hate you.” He performed (and by ‘performed’ we really mean ‘Stood around on stage and gurned angrily) I’ve Got A Feeling by the Black Eyed Peas, complete with a vest like what the rock stars wear and a band like what the rock stars have. God, it was like an End of Year Special Edition of Q Magazine. Insane.

“The only thing big about you is your hair.” Louis then told him after the performance. So we burnt all our Monty Python DVDs because we never found anything funny ever again.

After four weeks of hip surgery and counselling, we crawled back across the floor to watch Misha B sing something empowering about empowerment. YEAH. Empowerment! That B stands for “Vagina Dentata” you know. Good ol’ Misha got a lovely totally unprepared visit from her family who by pure bizarre luck managed to catch the magical moment on camera. They told Misha that “the whole of Manchester is behind you” even though as children we were brought up to believe that lying is wrong, so we’re a bit confused as to why that was said.

She looked awesome singing Proud Mary but only because anybody singing Proud Mary would make anyone look awesome. Misha did a mighty good job, despite the lame spoken word bit at the start and then the phoney office-laugh. Because nothing is better than sass, apart from pre-emptive sass.

Last up to perform was Little Mix singing Don’t Stop The Music, but don’t let us ramble on and on about that because again, they were utterly forgettable and TOTALLY REAL WOMEN FOR REAL WOMEN LIKE REAL WOMENY WOMEN.

After all this, brilliantly, The Risk were cruelly forced to leave the competition due to the baying monsters that are the public who are so bloody picky they’re basically kicking off someone every week now. WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU ALL?

And then to make matters insanely worse JOHNAMAZINGY AMAZINGSON ROBINSON AMAZING left the competition too, and it was ultimately the most horrible thing that has ever happened. We mean that, we really don’t doss around with hyperbole. We’re professionals.

The rest of the results show however was a roaring success, with performances from Florence and the Machine and the selfish teenage emperor of the Inca Empire taking a magical potion that turns him into a llama, thus ensuing a hilarious adventure where he learns a valuable lesson about generosity of spirit, but with some laughs along the way too. Oh no, sorry, that’s the plot synopsis of Walt Disney’s The Emporer’s New Groove.

We didn’t watch the results.

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The X Factor splits Britain into two camps. Those that despise it and those that don’t watch it. Those poor swine who don’t watch it can’t escape it. It’s everywhere, being rammed down your modem all the stinkin’ time.

Anyway, here’s an article about the X Factor. AND IT CONTAINS RACISM! HURRAY!

That’s right. The already hugely hated Kitty Brucknell – a lady with an ambition nearly as large as her forehead – is about to make everyone forget all about that Misha B bullying thing after she said something (well, allegedly) really racist to one of the boring berks from The Risk.

Even for die-hard X Factor fans, we don’t expect you to remember the individual members of The Risk. Suffice to say, we’re talking about Derry Mensah who the member with the darkest skin, the most generically handsome face and generally the one who Tulisa keeps making it clear she wants to have sex with.

Seriously. Have you noticed the great arcs of slug trail that erupts from between her legs when she talks to him. It’s vile.

Anyway, Derry is the one who has been involved in a row with Kitty and her Blackpool Christmas lights leotard. Yesterday, some papers reported that she’d gone and dropped the Nigger Bomb on him.

Appalling, eh?

Well, this appears to be untrue.

Derry has confirmed that there was an argument, when he asked Kitty to leave a practice room that he and fellow The Risk boyband members were due to use.

In short, the claim is that she was sleeping on a sofa, he asked her to move and…

“She snapped and went off on one and called me a black bastard.”

He added:

“She apologised afterwards. But we don’t speak any more. It’s bad because she goes around saying she used to be bullied and then she says stuff like that to me.”

Mensah told the X Factor bosses, they told her off and now she’s penned a letter of apology but he’s still refusing to speak to her in their shared house.

How marvellous. It’s just like the ’70s isn’t it? Can’t wait to see Kitty’s VOTE FOR ME face on Saturday.

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Happy Halloween! Lots of love, The X Factor. And boy, what a massively inconvenient (or should we say SPOOKY) set of affairs the week offered up for Saturday Night’s show. These devastating (or should we say GHOULSOME!) happenings came in a threefold sequence throughout last week.

1. Kelly Rowland is for some reason angry and in America.
2. Rhythmix have got sued or something and now have had to change their name to LITTLE MIX which isn’t as funny as ‘Micheal Barrymore’s Pool Party’, ‘Team Logic’ or ‘Sophie Habibas’ but we guess it’ll have to do.
3. Some bloke left either The Risk/Nu Vibe and a man from either The Risk/Nu Vibe replaced him. Maybe. We can’t be sure, because we don’t care.

These are the stone cold FACTS, so get use to it – because we not entirely convinced we’re in Kansas anymore like we usually are obviously, but instead in the United Kingdom watching the X Factor despite any cognitive differences instead.

And the producers still had time to provide the judges with drinking glasses with X Factor logos on, which put the cultural significance of both Factor helicopters and large masses of people making the X Factor logo with their hands in massive, massive perspective.

“Be afraid Britain! It’s FRIGHT NIGHT” Peter Dickson begrudgingly informed us, with half his soul ripped out as per usual. Oh awesome, they’ve cancelled X Factor and put on Fright Night, have they? Blimey, isn’t that unlikely. We hope it’s the 3D 2011 ‘comedy remake’ with Colin Farrell, rather than the muted pallet, repressed sexuality through the medium of werewolves, 80s contextual references but-it’s-the-original-movie-so-we-HAVE-to-like-it-bullshit version!

Oh wait, it’s still the X Factor. Well that wasn’t a very accurate intro really.

“Your scary Saturday night starts right here!” Dermot lied, to an apocalyptic fanfare of werewolf howls and Wilhelm screams clogging up the atmos, like we’re in bloody… Jaws 2 or something! Terrifying. Then he had the audacity to come on stage with eight lycra clad slave-women, immersed in both ‘banter’ and ‘choreography’. But we don’t want to talk about that.

Now, before we get started – we have a bit of bad news about how our pitches to Dermot O’Leary went regarding his opening X Factor comedy gambit he likes to do at the start of every show. As a result of this – we just thought we’d do the exact same thing again this week instead. Because it’s never too late to be great.

ORIGINAL DERMOT O LEARY JOKEY HALLOWEEN X FACTOR INTRO

“Tonight is fright night. Things are going to get really spooky around here, but no-one is more frightened than our X Factor contestants!!! One more blood curdling note and they could be on their way home!”

HECKLERSPRAY’S JOKEY HALLOWEEN X FACTOR INTRO AUXILIARY

Hey guys! Tonight it is the precursor weekend to Halloween, which is actually on Monday, but obviously we could not change our viewer’s schedule because we spend a lot of money on making The X Factor. But don’t get in a Conrad Flurry about it, because tonight on the show – things are going to get pretty eerie. So you better be ready to Jeckyl and HIDE because contestants have been suffering with acute adjustment disorder with mixed anxiety and depressive moods all week, so they’re not mentally strong enough to maintain regular social activities right now. Talk about Myra Spine Tingly! So remember – if the X Factor singers sing terribly tonight, there is absolutely zero chance that they will be going home because our audience’s are not professionally trained tonality experts and usually have impeccably awful judgement. 9/11-a-fying!

Or something to that effect. We’ll get Graham Norton’s joke-writers to gloss over it later.

So who will be replacing Kelly Rowland who is for some reason angry and in America? It’s only bloody X Factor 2008 (probably) winner Alexandra Burke! And hold up those schizophrenic handbags, cos Alexandra aint taking no shit from Tulisa way over there! (sitting directly next to her, inches away) That’s for sure! Not that Kelly is absent due to a fallout with Tulisa, and not that the X Factor would dare allude to that entirely fictional piece of information in any way to evoke interest. Oh, and Tulisa wore a catwoman outfit, just in case Anne Hathaway hadn’t extracted enough sexual charisma out of that character yet.

First up of course was The Risk. Who have had the toughest week EVER, according to Tulisa. Well, Tulisa, we hate to be picky about this –but we suspect that’s a little white lie.

Okay, so it’s a BIT RISKY, but pah! You know what the risky Risk are like with all of their sex and their jackets and god knows what else. With only 2 days of rehearsals with their new band member Azerbaijan, or whatever his name is – The Risk somehow manage to hold it together for never performed since 1984, Micheal Jackson forgotten gem THRILLER. A terrifying song to be singing first on the X Factor, ESP after the Halloween edition of Strictly Come Dancing too.

Come on, this isn’t very funny guys. You should know really, after such a tough week. We’re not laughing. The backing dancers even look petrifying, exclusively wearing produce from the Lindsay Lohan Leggings Company. Eerie enough for you?? No? Well, they also turn a song originally termed as ‘disco funk’ to ‘cool’, so maybe you should take that to the Hate Bank, eh, HATERS. Even Alexandra Burke agrees they have a ‘little something something’, which is an amazing point amazingly made, but we can’t help wonder what Kelly Rowland would have said. Probably something different.

Dermot used a Frankenstein joke and correctly differentiated between Professor Frankenstein and Frankenstein’s monster, because this is top quality Saturday Night Entertainment programme.

Next up was definite prodigal son of the next 30 years of pop music and all round Pina Colada fan Johnny Robinson. “Here’s Johnny!” Johnny exclaimed excitedly in his VT. We have absolutely no idea what he’s talking about. “That’s from The Shining.” Johnny later explained. Oh. Shut up Johnny.

Johnny defies all forces of music/gravity/atheism by singing in clothes designed with cotton and with a human man in mind, as opposed to Astronaut Porn Dungeon Keepers – as is the norm, and sang Ole Devil Called Love from ‘the past’, with nothing but candles, and a piano and a Brian Friedman restraining order. He’s finally done it guys. He’s finally out-masculinated a non-descript but altogether very feminine woman.  Amazing. Amazing to the extent that Gary Barlow surgically removed Simon Cowell’s arse-clamps and lumbered on stage as fast as his legs (which have been cursed and made of stone) can carry him to give Johnny the loving caress of a man Johnny had read about in so many Truman Capote novellas over the years. It was mesmerizing and a bit like the best moment on TV ever, had this not happened first. But it did, and we have to fill in the Kelly Rowland cocaine quota somehow. Tulisa patronised Johnny MASSIVELY calling him a ‘little bit sexy’,  whereas Alexandra went for the more medically accurate analysis of Johnny – discussing sincerely that “You sung your little heart out.”

Sophie “Check out the upcoming syllables” Habibas (Yeah Peter Dickson, whatever.) was up next to perform, but not before taking us back to her hometown in Islington, LANDAN where she used to be a LANDAN barmaid in LANDAN. But enough of that now. That’s all in the past, and now she is singing Nancy Sinatra with an up-bun. You can literally cut the tension with one of Jamie Oliver’s down to earth cockney knives, as she sang the song with a grotesquely LANDAN accent. Yknow. Because Kate Nash did it 4 years ago, and it was really endearing.

Everyone told Sophie she was rubbish, but only because of the absence of KELLY ROWLAND, ergo, the only woman in the United States of America who could possibly have brought out the best in Sophie, obviously. Alas the best we have is Alexandra Burke, Via Kelly Rowland, Via Derek Acorah at the moment, who simply tells Sophie that she has the ‘ability to shine’, presumably because you automatically lose 60% of ‘sass’ when you try and transport it from beyond the afterlife. Sorry. We’ve completely lost our minds.

Next to sing was Marcus Collins, who we still kind of don’t care about remotely for some reason. Probably because we’re terrible. Marcus sings Superstitious, except with an INXS bassline, cos he is the ‘musical one’ of the group. Every specifically music-based reality TV show needs one after all. It sounds relatively fine, mostly because we have heard of both Stevie Wonder and INXS. The choreography however could’ve used a little bit more of Tara Palmer Tomkinson doing the lyrics to Penny Lane in sign language though if we’re all being incredibly honest with ourselves. But maybe that’s just us. The judges are still for some reason trying to convince us that Marcus is straight, with Tulisa basically handing Marcus over the Nobel Peace Prize for daring to wear a bit of make-up during his performance (Reminder: This is a Halloween themed edition of The X Factor) “The last time I saw a certifiably hetrosexual man wear make-up he got stoned to death right outside my doorstep because we were terrified it might be one of those dangerous queers.” Tulisa thinks but does not say.

Last week, Tulisa was an absolute absurd excuse for a human and stirred large vats of shit and lies about Misha B, seasoned with Gary Barlow’s lucidity and Hugh Laurie’s marital happiness. This week, Mischa was sure to put those rumours to rest, by explaining to us, the sympathetic British public, that she once got lost in a field but it’s all part of growing up or something. We weren’t really listening. But Constantly Disregarded X Factor Voice Coach Man was, so that’s okay. Nonetheless, Misha is BACK to show dem bitches what for in a Say No to Racism t-shirt, despite not having the musical inspiration of Kelly Rowland, who is the only black singer in the world. Mischa sings a Tainted Love MASH-UP because she frickin LOVES Freelance Hellraiser it when The X Factor producers make her do that every single week. This is to do with the fact that when you put more music on top of other bits of music’ it sounds really cool. Also, for some reason she was wearing a massive wooly phallus on her head, and also a hood, which was also really good and logical and cool. And you’ll figure all that out one day too when you get YOUR Cosmopolitan Blog Award. Everybody loved Misha, even though she’s a certified callous bitch. Louis Walsh did a ghastly Kelly Rowland impression. Alexandra Burke shrugged.

The SPOOKINESS continued with Janet Devlin, who just for Saturday night, sang in the key of Halloween! That’s out of tune, by the way. Also, you can tick ‘Crimped hair’ off the never ending list of Bella Swan-tastic things to do before you die, if you like. Louis Walsh did his god awful Kelly Rowland impression again. FOR GOD’S SAKE.

Oh WHAT. You know how they did that first really big war and then they did that second considerably bigger world war with MORE of the world in it? Well following Janet was of course Frankie Cocozza. FRANKIE COCOZZA. Eurgh. ARGH. THIS IS UNACCEPTABLE. Oh my god we’ve got a brilliant idea. Let’s not write about him. Okay. Brilliant. Cosmopolitan Blog Award 2012 here we come.

So that’s the calm before the storm, the eye of the storm, and then the SHITSTORM covered. Now on to the Storm Lee portion of the programme, with Kitty Brucknell. Oh Kitty. People forgot to like her again despite all the child abuse and glaucoma and whatever else it is she’s been injecting for the past week, and Kitty found herself in the bottom 2 – which she obviously talked about in a deeply morose way for a bit. God, CHEERS GBP for that. We could have chopped down some of Frankie Coccozza’s ill deserved self esteem, but no. We’ll just hack away at the mental complex-ridden pensioner instead. Kitty sang Sweet Dreams Are Made of These And Always Sung on the X Factor, and it was very good. She did that thing at the end where she puts her arm in the sky and then the music goes OOMPH, because she is constantly Hercules. (Disney version, not actual. That would be sparsely inaccurate.)

Absolutely Any Combination of Words Will Do As Long As You Don’t Actually Say Their Actual Band Name were up next. Or Little Mix if we HAVE TO. SEO is Best-io.  Anyway. This week was almost as devastatingly awful and 9/11-y as Tulisa’s other group Nu Vibe or The Risk we honestly can’t remember. Anyway, Little Mix had a terrible terrible week because one of their band members was SO ugly they got sued by a charity. We’re joking, we’re joking… We understand how hard it must be to be emotionally stoned to death by the internet, even though we ARE the internet. So we’ll try and cover this as sensitively as possible. The Ocelot One from Little Mix had been having a bad time of this week, due to insults and diatribes through ‘Twitter’ and ‘Websites’. We think this is absolutely wrong, and we totally TOTALLY get low self esteem issues, we DO. But Roy Walker always told us to say what we saw, so it’s a bit of a Catch 22 really.

Nonetheless – ‘Little Mix’ (*Tightens leather buckle*) did a lovely job of singing ET by Katy Perry. So whatever we may have said in the past about The Animals of Farthing Wood Faced one from Little Mix, just know that feminism will always be there to combat us in the end.

Last to perform is CRAIG COLTON, who sang Set Fire to the Rain whilst wearing a massive duffle coat, so we refuse to write anymore because Craig has insulted our intelligence.

THE RESULTS!

A few things.

1. Cher Lloyd turned up and sang what simply must be THE NO.1 SUMMER ANTHEM OF 2011. In late October.
2. Nicole Sherzinger has to make pop music using sad synth now, and it’s all Lewis Hamilton’s fault.
3. We have seen the OK.com joke, and are now letting it pass over, to join Bruce Willis in Heaven.
4. Tara Palmer Tomkinson on Comic Relief does Fame Academy is absolutely the best thing about tonight’s X Factor by a clear country mile. LOOK AT THE STATE OF THIS SHIT. Bloody hell. Just say no THANK YOU Mr Drug Dealer, I’ll stop at 7 E’s, ta.
5. Alexandra Burke’s jutting head is the worst pilate class ever.
6. Alexandra Burke is still amazing.
7. Kelly literally phoned in sick so she could vote off Sophie (Oh yeah, Sophie went. Cosmopolitan Blog Award.) and sounded exactly like dishonesty and Bryan Cranston’s lung cancer acting.
8. Mischa sang “Catharsis (I didn’t say nuffink)” by Kings of Leon, and we all forgave her for being a bitch.
9. Cher Lloyd hasn’t slept in years.
10. Justin Hawkins thought the show was terrible.

Can we go to sleep now?

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