I appear to be watching a television programme called the “X Factor”. I’m not really sure what to make of this, and I’ve never really watched it before, but there appears to be a simple formula to the proceedings.
- Young woman with slightly-too-revealing outfit sings a song but wobbles her voice around so instead of just singing the song she sings all the notes ever invented.
- Judge who didn’t choose the song says it was rubbish. Judge who chose the song says it was brilliant.
- Man in shiny outfit sings a song with a bit too much rapping while women writhe around him in skimpy costumes like feminism never happened*.
- Judge who chose the song says it was a game changer. Judge who owns the programme and can do what he wants says something sardonic and cutting.
- Group of people who have no life experience and want only to be famous come on the stage and sing a soulful version of an 80s pop song with more wobbly Mariah Carey vocal stylings.
- Judge who appears to be dressed for bed says they didn’t think it would work but they’re so excited for how far you could all go.
- Presenter pulls the contestants aside and asks how it was. Contestants say it was great and they’re so happy to be here. Presenter says thank you and that was amazing, even though it was plain to everyone present that it barely even qualified as interesting.
- Voting happens and some of the entirely interchangeable contestants leave, though some are then allowed to sing again and might stay in, and others will be arbitrarily brought back later, comfortably removing any sense of jeopardy.
My main conclusion is that the titular “X Factor” appears to be ill-defined and plays at best a peripheral role in what is actually a singing competition. Most of the screen time is taken up by contestants, who are, to a man, detestable, singing other people’s songs to a panel of judges, none of whom would be worth saving from a house fire. Perhaps it would be better to rename the programme something more closely related to what happens on screen, such as “Twats Singing At Twats”.
* Feminism has yet to happen on ITV.
19 comments on “The “X Factor””
Scathing.
Who are you referring to as twats? The audience or the judges?
The judges. How else would you describe Simon Cowell?
To be fair, clever. He lives in a big house and yachts. He got it right somewhere.
(Disclaimer: I do not want a big house or yachts. Too much to keep clean.)
We call it The Crap Factor because what it does is factor in all the crap you don’t want into one two hour program. This means all the other programs don’t need to be crap because the Crap Factor is doing it all. Although there are some exceptions; I’m looking at you, Channel 5.
Sounds like there’s still work for the Crap Factor to do.
The Crap Factor’s job is never done. For every BBC1 there’s a ITV4 and a Drama Channel.
No matter how much Lovejoy you show on a Saturday morning, Drama Channel, it can’t redeem the rest of your sins. And Kev loves Lovejoy.
Kev tries to live like Lovejoy at all times. You can tell by the way he spends all his spare time trading antiques in the early 90s.
Is that what he took up when his poodle-grooming business went under?
Yes. He’s doing it right now which is why he’s stopped visiting the Beans again.
We all knew it wouldn’t last.
Has he shortened his name into something along the lines of Lovejoy, such as KevHill?
Once he’s got his military hat on he’ll be back.
I think he’s calling himself Lovehouse these days because he loves his house.
That’s true.
I read a report in the newspaper the other day that said his house was the most touched up house in the whole of the UK. I flinched for a moment, thinking the worst, that perhaps he had taken his house-relationship to a scary new level, until I read the article and realised it was about DIY.
At any given moment, there’s virtually nothing in Kev’s house that hasn’t been renovated within the last fourteen days. It’s a remarkable achievement, though it does mean that from one visit to the next his dwelling is basically unrecognisable.
I’m thinking of opening it up as a tourist attraction. He won’t even notice me and thirteen Japanese visitors prancing between his paint licks and structure overhauls. At five quid a pop I think I could earn up to ten pounds a week, which I know you will agree is a sizeable return.
To be fair his house has been extended so many times now that it crosses several county boundaries. As long as you’re quiet he’ll never notice you’re there.
He’s currently squinting the shelf goblins in the East Wing so for the first month or so I’ll show exclusively the Northern and Southern Wings. Just to be on the safe side.
Don’t miss out the formal gardens. He put a hedge maze in recently.
What a guy #matesquared
So it’s your fault I keep finding camera happy tourists in my snooker room is it?
I hope I’m going to see a cut of all these entry tickets you’re selling.