There I am, it’s a Saturday night, flicking through the TV channels. BBC, Sky, ITV- oh no. It’s another of Mr Nasty’s ‘freak shows’. But where is Simon Cowell? That’s right, he’s abandoned the UK in order to pollute American minds instead, and Louis Walsh, along with pop ‘superstars’ Gary Barlow, Kelly Rowland and someone who calls herself Tulisa have invaded the judging panel. Louis’ group has never been brilliant at the singing part of the X Factor. Last year, there was Wagner, the year before there was Jedward, who can trust him as the only original judge left? Why does a television ‘talent’ show involving three singers and an old man from Ireland judging people who can’t sing deserve more attention in the news than famines in Africa?
‘Time flies when you’re having fun’. But not with X-Factor. It seems like an opportunity for deluded contestants who think they can screech their way through the audition, get humiliated in front of the whole nation and get their dreams crushed by their idols in two minutes. Much of it is also scripted, and it sparks a lot of news stories that are covered even more than natural disasters. If this is what people call ‘entertainment’, then I really don’t understand how. Yes, there are some good people, and the winner gets a record contract, but have you heard of Joe McElderry and Olly Murs? Or Matt Cardle and Cher Lloyd? If the runners-up can become even more successful than the winners, then I don’t know where all this excitement over who wins comes from.
By Christmas, The X Factor will be the front-page news in the UK, and I will be on the nearest plane to China.