We’re halfway up the Everest of semi-finals week, and ITV have kindly given us a little sniff from a tank of oxygen, in the form of a day with no show. Caution: metaphor-stretching ahead.
Since setting off from auditions basecamp, it’s been a steady slog up the north face of Britain’s Got Talent. The air’s getting thinner than Darth Jackson‘s address book, and colder than the series of pumps and switches that pass for Amanda Holden‘s heart.
But if you find yourself tiring, don’t worry: Susan Boyle will truss you up with climbing rope and hoist you over her hefty shoulders.
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In many ways, Susan Boyle’s journey on Britain’s Got Talent is much like the history of America’s Civil Rights Movement.
Both have shown that it is wrong to judge people based on appearance. Both have proven that the oppressed can, through strength of spirit and unshakable belief in what is right, break down barriers and rise above discrimination. Both are close to Oprah Winfrey‘s heart.
And both have gone on for so long now that decent society must look deep within itself and ask: what is wrong with us, that after all which has gone before, we still must confront these things?
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Britain’s Got Talent on Saturday began to tell us which 40 acts were to perform again for the public vote.
And you’ll never guess which Oprah-loving, Obama-hating, probably metal bar-bending Sottish singer made it.
Give yourself ten points and a furtive crotch massage if you guessed Susan Boyle, she of The Voice, The Modesty and The Physical Characteristics Of A Balloon Rubbed On A Jumper Then Passed Over A Hairdresser’s Floor.
And Then Covered In Your Granny’s Christmas Wrapping Paper.
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Parents, got a child’s birthday coming up? It’s a girl? She wants a dolly? Why, a crazy little American lady has the perfect gift.
We foresaw many merchandising opportunities for Susan Boyle. The pattern from her audition dress coming to dominate the Indian restaurant wallpaper market, for example. Fancy dress parties everywhere flooded with blokes wearing hilarious stick-on eyebrows, curly wigs and big, foam-rubber forearms. Like Popeye‘s.
And a range of failsafe condoms, which would have a photo of Susan Boyle on the wrapper.
“Boyfriend got a boner? One peek and it’s a goner”.
Oh come on, it works when written down, alright?
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