The Unholy Mess that is Tallafornia, Episode 2

We quickly recap last week’s moronitude: so there’s this love triangle between Cormac the Beefmonkey, Shnakey Phil and Cuntyflaps Nikita. And there’s the OPENING CREDITS! So I guess we’re just meant to forget all the other amazing things that happened last week. Well, Tallafornia producers and whoever edited this recap, I personally am not going to forget OR forgive you for inflicting Darryl the Gay on us last week, try as you might to pretend it never happened. Anyway, it turns out that these episodes actually have titles. This one is called “Hook Ups and Heart Aches”. You can tell they really put a lot of effort into coming up with that. Personally I would’ve gone with “The One Where Natalie Pays To Have Claire’s Accessories Diamonds Stuck To Her Labia” but your mileage may vary.

It seems that the STI-magnets are having difficulty keeping their shag-pad clean. Kelly “used to keep the place clean”, we’re told over footage of her hoovering up protein powder or something. Oh, it’s washing up powder actually. Because as everyone knows, the washing up powder goes on the floor of the bathroom. Then you lay the clothes over the powder and do the clean-uppy dance while standing on them and presto – everything’s clean! Somehow the footage of Kelly hoovering up the washing powder (possibly because she thinks the hoover needs cleaning) segues into a discussion of the “love” triangle between herself, Beefmonkey and Phil. 

Prematurely Balding Jay, who seems to be most loquacious of the muppets, takes about 5 minutes to tell us that something involving the exchange of bodily fluids might have happened between Nikita and Phil. Then, David the shit-stirrer takes two seconds to just outright confirm sex was had. But let’s not forget that David and Kelly, who sounds like she has a perpetual cold, are being all lovey dovey too. This is Kelly who has a boyfriend, remember. If you didn’t remember, don’t feel too bad, because it seems that Kelly has only just remembered herself. She concedes that it’s “probably a bad sign” that she’s only just remembered him, as she struggles to recall his name. Then she tries to justify her cheatin’ heart on the fact that she’s only 22 and she’s continually been in relationships for the last number of years. Dear Kelly, if they last one night then it doesn’t actually count as a relationship.

Time for a producer-mandated visit to somewhere knackery. This week, the girls are going on an excursion to some beauty salon with leopard–print EVERYWHERE, while the boys go to the Square Shopping Centre. You know, the one from the ads with the awful jingle. Yay! It’s Natalie, my favourite Tallafornian! Saying that, having a favourite Tallafornian is like having a favourite cancer. Anyway, the primary reason for the girls’ visit to the Leopard Lounge is so that Natalie can get vajazzled for her 21st birthday. God be with the days when people got silver keys for their 21^st. Now it’s diamonds on their cooch. Also, Natalie looks like she’s put on about a stone since last week but I presume it’s just fluid she’s retaining after drinking a small lake’s worth of vodka. “Are you going out yourself tonight?” Natalie nonchalantly asks her beautician, who is busy tending to to her lady-kitten so that it can be properly bejewelled. Meanwhile, the steroid jockeys visit every men’s clothes store at The Square to buy various v-neck t-shirts that are two sizes too small.

There are several shots of the Neanderthals pissing about interspersed with footage of Natalie having her joo-joo adorned with rubies, diamonds, sapphires and gold. Also, there is an extreme close-up. Mercifully, they just about manage to avoid showing anything lippy. The lads finish purchasing t-shirts intended for boys aged 10-12, so they decide to get a birthday cake to celebrate Natalie’s coming of age. 

Back to the salon, where the girls are parading their new looks. Nikita and Kelly tell us that Natalie’s hair is “so different!” Well, it’s not greasy anymore, so I guess that’s a change. Suddenly we whip back to Chez STI, where Natalie is delighted with her cake. She says it really made her feel at home. Everyone is very interested in Natalie’s new vagina decorations. She assures us however, that she didn’t show anyone, “bar the people in the house”. That’s six people, Natalie. Counting (aside: No joke, I initially wrote “cunting”) the beautician, that means seven people have already seen your vagina, and you only got out of the salon about 5 minutes ago. Well done, love. Your ma will be proud. Phil confirms that Natalie’s vagina looked lovely. Beefmonkey lays into Natalie’s cake (that’s not a euphemism), before outlining his “pulling regime”, which isn’t worth wasting any words on because everything Cormac Beefmonkey says is a lie designed to allow him to pass as a human being until the day when he explodes in a sociopathic rage and kills dozens of people using whatever blunt objects are at hand.

It’s night time, and that means the gang of eejits are off to some dingey hole to disgrace themselves. This week, it’s Club 92, which has fire-juggling, fire-breathing beauties and a VIP area where the Tallafornians will be hanging out. Lots of shots of the muppets house drinking before they head out. Then they arrive at Club 92! And start doing push-ups!  On the floor of the club! The disgusting, sticky nightclub floor! I have no idea why. I will never understand these people. The morons decide to have a competition to see who could score the most people in honour of Natalie. Truly, that is the best way I can think of to pay tribute to Natalie. Nikita wins, by kissing 21 people in about two minutes. Cormac Beefmonkey decides not to take part in these shenanigans because it’s not his style. His style is more phone you up and breathe heavily into the receiver, drive past your house with his headlights off or push the still-beating heart of a faun through your letter-box with a note saying “WE WILL B 4EVER”. 

More scenes of spit-swapping on the dancefloor. Kelly makes out with David the Shit-Stirrer. Kelly’s actual boyfriend shows up. David stirs some shit. Kelly dumps her boyfriend by text and makes out with David some more. This is exactly how European royalty used to court one another in the past.

Back at the home for the perpetually scandalous, the boys digest the events of the evening like the gossiping fishwives they are. They debate the moral virtue of dumping one’s boyfriend via text. Prematurely Balding Jay is frankly appalled. That’s right, the stripper is appalled. I know Jay, you’re all so pious normally. As is par for the coruse with these absolute wasters, it devolves into a debate about who has the bigger biceps/pecs/cocks and they decide to arm-wrestle. For some reason arm wrestling requires them to take their tops off. I’ve seen porn that starts like this.

The girls are discussing Kelly’s newfound status as a singleton when Kelly slaps Natalie playfully. They wrestle, in the least erotic simulacrum of foxy boxing ever and then fall over, legs akimbo. Suddenly half the screen is blurred, from which we can deduce the following: 1. Kelly isn’t wearing any underwear and 2. Kelly’s vagina is massive. 

No episode of this mess would be complete without drama in the hot tub, and this week is no exception. It transpires that Phil may or may not have implied that Nikita is easy. This would be the same Nikita who kissed 21 people and has shagged both Phil and Beefmonkey. Needless to say, Nikita and several of her champions are shocked and appalled that her honour has been sullied in such a manner. Phil attempts to defend himself by explaining that she “took it completely the wrong way”. I guess there are lots of subtle meanings to the phrase “Nikita is easy” so you can see how she might’ve missed the part where he didn’t mean to call her slapper. Nikita is pissed at Phil! Phil tries to blame everyone else somehow! It’s somehow Kelly’s fault! Then it’s Beefmonkey’s fault! Prematurely Balding Jay says that “Philly is just here to play the game”. What game? THERE’S NO PRIZE, YOU FUCKING TWIT. Whats the betting he thinks they’re actually taking part in an Irish version of Big Brother? I’m sure next week he’ll pluck up the courage to ask where the diary room chair is. Jay compares Phil to “Bambi caught in the headlights”. Ah, yes, that famous scene where Bambi is caught in the headlights of the truck that nearly knocks him down while he's on his way to Tamango's. We all remember that scene.

Phil continues trying to explain how calling Nikita a slapper was totally everyone else’s fault, to little avail, until the argument finally ends when Phil and Nikita agree to continue having sex. Natalie facepalms. Phil and Nikita fail to reflect on the fact that when even Natalie is aghast at your behaviour then perhaps it is time to have a long think about what you have done. Phil sagely points out that if sex is available to a man, he will take it. Because as we all know, the Y chromosome contains a gene that completely removes the ability to turn sex down.

The episode concludes with the morons barging into the “score room” to see what Kelly and Dave are up to. Kelly’s bra is on the floor and lest we forget, she wasn’t wearing any knickers, so it’s safe to assume they weren’t lying in bed discussing potential ways to ensure that countries such as Libya and Egypt can emerge from their recent uprisings in manner that allows for a fair and egalitarian transition to democracy.

Next Week: Everyone reminds Kelly that she had a boyfriend. Kelly reminds everyone that she dumped him by text. Natalie has her anus encrusted with opals.

The Unholy Mess that is Tallafornia

There are those among us who believe that 2012 is the year that will herald the end of the world. These people will spend the next 12 months looking for signs and portents pointing to the forthcoming end of all that is; for indications that humanity is about to step off the edge of the cliff and hurtle face first into the gaping maw of oblivion. These people, desperate to find validation of their belief that we as a species have reached the end of the road, need look no further than TV3s Tallafornia for the proof they need.

But lest you think that Tallafornia is the absolute worst thing that could possibly happen to Irish television; your horror might be tempered by the fact that if you flick on to TV3 a few minutes early, like I did in my absolute haste to ensure I didn’t miss a single minute, you’ll end up catching the end of Take Me Out, which makes T’fornia seems at least 5% less horrendous than it actually is.

Awfulness of the opening credits as measured on the Voice of Ireland Theme Song Scale: 4.5/5. Lots of pastel colours float around as the names of the assorted meatheads and fanny pads living together for our viewing pleasure float on-screen.  Clearly a member of the production crew remembered the concept of in medias res from his media course at UCD, as we join the Gonnorrheans while they get suited and booted for a night out at Ireland’s premier hotspot for research into the transmission of sexually transmitted infections, Tamango’s. Kelly (one of the dark-haired girls... and no, I can’t tell them apart) explains that her initial impression of David (described on the TV3 website as, and I paste directly, “the life and sole of the party".... clearly you didn’t get very far in that media course, did you) is that he was a D4 rugby meathead, but she was pleased to discover he wasn’t. The other Gonorrheans speculate as to whether or not Kelly will be able to restrain herself around David’s massive man muscles, or will she give in to the smell of raw testosterone and stale boxer shorts and cheat on her boyfriend?

Once they've finished setting up that storyline (hint: she totally will cheat) Nikita puts on a pair of knacker-tights while the rest of the shitheads gather around the cooker, seemingly amazed by the fact that you can put food into a large white appliance and then eat it.

Future murderer Cormac arrives with some “tunage”. “Shake your hips like a bag of chips” remarks Natalie (it’s pronounced Nah-ah-lee) in what is just the first of many, many asides from her in relation to the topic of food and the eating of food. Also, what the fuck does shake your hips like a bag of chips actually mean? It fails as a visual metaphor because quite simply, a human body in music-fuelled locomotion does not resemble a bag of chips as she suggests. And wouldn’t a bag that vibrates madly utterly fail as a viable means of containing the deliciousness of the chips? Is Natalie one of those people who thinks that rhyming something automatically makes it funny? Or is she some sort of subversive literary genius, lampooning the general public’s inability to appreciate any form of poetic expression that doesn’t involve a rhyming scheme? We’ll never know, because just as Natalie is about to share her thoughts on the future of prose in the era of the Kindle and e-publishing, Moves Like Jagger comes on and the arse-slapping begins. Prematurely balding Jay the stripper informs us that he has never stripped at Tamango’s. Is Jay an actual stripper in that people pay him to remove his clothes? Or is he a stripper in that he gets drunk, takes his clothes off and rages around the dancefloor hoping that his abs will distract from his thinning hairline? 

Oh sweet Jesus. Natalie and Nikita decide to bust some moves in the cage. “People were throwing money down our thongs!” Natalie beams as my eyeballs vomit blood. At this point I’d like to remind anyone reading this that in the first episode, Natalie informed us that she wants to be a teacher. Yes, a teacher. I think I was on to something when I speculated that she’s some sort of subversive genius. This entire show is just one big exercise in ironic post-participation as far as she’s concerned. Natalie and Nikita declare the cage their new local, as we endure further footage of them gyrating about with flakes of disease falling out of their thongs.

Kelly informs us that the big drama is going to be the “love triangle” between Cormac, Phil and Nikita, because the producers told her to say that. Well, it’s really more of a love hexagon between Cormac, Phil, Nikita and their respective reflections. And when we say love we mean random-drunken-shifting. Like the kind that’s going on between Nikita and Phil on-screen. Cormac informs us that “I’m a red-blooded testosterone fuelled male. I saw red” before judging Phil to be “a fucking shit-stirrer. He stirs shit!” Cormac has a wide and varied vocabulary, and loves the Sunday Times crossword. I am greatly amused by the fact that Cormac the Beefmonkey blasts Phil as a shit-stirrer two minutes after David gleefully skipped over to him, malice in his eyes, and said “OH EM GEE, NIKITA IS SHIFTING PHIL!” and then showed him several photographs of the incident, some recorded footage, before telling him that Phil said his Ma had a cock. THE REAL SHIT STIRRER IS CLOSER THAN YOU THINK, STEROIDMONKEY! “He’s Got To Accept The Consequences“ bellows Steroidmonkey, as he confirms that he could “mooch twenty birds” if he chose to do so. Um. Okay?

It’s the morning after the night before, and after disinfecting their genitals, the Tallafornians are off to Prematurely Balding Jay’s Mammy’s house for a fry-up. Natalie informs us that she’s mad for the sausage. I never would’ve guessed. The girls ask Mammy Jay how she feels about him being a stripper. Mammy Jay says she loves watching him bounce around on-stage with his meat and two-veg barely constrained by a tight sparkling red G-String as he rubs olive oil into his nipples. The meatheads are impressed that Jay gets on with his family, probably because the rest of them have all been disowned for being such massive fucking disgraces. 

And then they’re off to go abseiling and rock-climbing, except in the Health & Safety obsessed climate of modern Ireland, this involves putting each of them in a harness and watching as they clamber down a small boulder that’s about 10 feet high. It’s as riveting as it sounds.

The boys decide to have a quiet night in with the Wii while the girls head out to bond at “The Playhouse”. Nikita says she’s looking forward to getting to know the girls better as she feels like their mammy but hasn’t really bonded with them. So like a mammy with post-natal depression, then? The boys bellow testosterone-fuelled warcries at one another as they play about on the Wii.  That’s the Wii, the cute little white rectangle regularly advertised by the likes of Julie Walters and Carol Vorderman that’s the videogame equivalent of a nice cup of tea and a sit-down. Hardcore, boys.

Cormac isn’t joining in though. He actually has a job. He’s a taxi-driver, so he’s off to scour the roads of County Dublin for a victim to take his ‘roid rage out on.

Over to The Playhouse where the girls have decided to show what independent women they are by spending all night talking about the boys before going out to find some additional inebriated members of the fairer sex to sacrifice to the meatheads. Way to represent, gals. Fortunately, because you wouldn’t go near these three women with a remote-controlled barge pole from the safety of a sterile environment, the only people they find to bring home with them are Natalie’s cousin, Natalie's best mate and her other best mate WHO IS A GAY. Thanks for telling us, Natalie. We never would have guessed. 

The next excruciating ten minutes of this horrible show involve a horrendous gay playing up to every gay stereotype imaginable (No beers for queers? Check. Jokes about lube? Check. Jokes about hands where everyone can see them? Check.) getting completely bladdered and generally being a total mess. There are lots of mentions of Brian Dowling, because Brian Dowling is the only frame of reference the boys have for a gay man, and this gobshite is so taken by the idea that he’s going to be on television that he just completely plays up to the role of caustic, vulgar, mincing, predatory homosexual. In short: take the queen out back and shoot it before our peers decide to rescind the Civil Partnership Act based entirely on this creature’s behaviour. By the end of it all, the Tallafornians themselves actually seem like models of quiet decorum in comparison. 

Next week! The girls get vajazzled! I presume it’s a one hour special as a result. Also: I try to learn how to tell Nikita and Kelly apart.

The X-Factor 2011: The Semi Final Results Show

 Next week! Is the X-Factor final! At WEM-BULL-EE ARENA! And you decide who gets there! I can’t believe I only have two more days of Voiceover Man in my life until he goes into hibernation again. Anyway, before we get to the FUCKING FOUR HOUR FINAL NEXT WEEKEND, which will probably kill me, we have to make it through the rest of this mess. Dermot informs us that four contestants remain and one will depart. Unless the rules change in the next 20 minutes, that is. Then he spends 30 minutes going through the various different ways of voting, and then a further 90 minutes chanting the phone numbers at us. Oh, and the Charity Single is number one. Who would have guessed, what with the promotional juggernaut of this show behind it. Then there’s a horrendous group song of some number that I’ve never heard before. Apparently, it’s from the film Bridesmaids so I guess it’ll be familiar to the show’s voter demographic of middle aged women and gays.

Interminable recap with occasional bits of backstage nonsense time! Unfortunately the backstage nonsense is completely and utterly boring so let’s ignore it and the entire recap. Oh god, they’re doing awkward live backstage banter between Dermot and the contestants again. Marcus has a rumbly in his tummy! Amelia is the comeback kid! Misha can’t interview for fuck. People from South Shields can’t speak English! The end.

Next up is Justin Bieber.

Following that, is devout Christian Kelly Rowland, singing one of her many, many songs about casual sex. Well, actually, it’s a medley of When Love Takes Over, Dahn For Whutevah and about two seconds of Commander. It’s not the worst performance ever (that honour still belongs to Nicole Sherznger. Both times.) but when you’ve managed to make Cheryl Cole’s performances look good you’re probably doing something wrong. Then again, she sings live, which is more than the Colester ever managed, so maybe it’s a draw. The performance amounts to Learn How To Strip With Ms K. About halfway through she ends up in her underwear, and by the end I was 95% certain the tit-top would come off and she’d finish the performance with some tassles. Dermot arrives for the post-performance interview and doesn’t know where to look at the mostly naked Ms Rowland. Into her eyes, Dermot. Look into her eyes. Kelly implores us to buy her album because she just did a striptease on live television and doesn’t want it to have been for nothing. 

Drawn out results time! We have to sit through videos explaining why each of the contestants wants to make it to the final and why their mentors are proud of them. Just in case you weren’t paying attention to any of the intro-videos over the last 9 weeks. Actual results time! The first act through to next week’s FUCKING FOUR FUCKING HOUR FUCKING LONG FUCKING FINAL is Little Mix. Next through is Marcus. It’s between Amelia and Misha. Unsurprisingly, the girl leaving the competition is the one who has been in the bottom two nearly every second week. Misha B is out and she’s surprisingly humble and grateful about it, which just means that when she eventually does explode, it’s going to be spectacular. She should join Kitty in her crusade to hunt down everyone in Britain who didn’t vote for her. Backstage, Little Mix breathe a massive sigh of relief. For the first time in 9 weeks they can open their cupboards without fear of finding a used tampon inside.

And that’s that. Next week’s finale will be taking place live from Wembley Arena. Given how smoothly the outside-the-studio broadcasts have been in previous finals (disembodied voice of Stacey Solomon, anyone?) I’m sure moving the entire show off-site will work out wonderfully. We can look forward to a plethora of SyCo acts and special guests with absolutely nothing to promote, who are only there out of the goodness of their hearts.

The X-Factor 2011: The Semi Finals

It’s Semi-Final Time! To disgrace! The music! The X-Factor semi-final is like the opposite of the petit mort. Instead of the feeling of dread ennui after AFTER the big finish, with this show it happens right before. This is my way of saying that the X-Factor semi-final is usually a thunderous letdown the week before the spectacle and outrageous hyperbole of the grand final. Last year’s was better than most, what with the sudden and unexpected rule-change to ensure Cher Lloyd made it into the final over Tesco Mary, all the better to legitimately advertise the former as X-FACTOR FINALIST. The only way this one could hope to take that travesty on would be if they changed the rules to state that ejected contestants now win the show this year and then crowned Frankie automatic champion. But I digress. Look, there’s Dermot dancing terribly!

Dermot clearly and definitively states that the contestant with the fewest votes will be eliminated tomorrow night, and that the Judge’s will have no say in it whatsoever. That means they’re definitely bringing back Frankie and Biscuitman and ejecting all the other contestants. This week’s themes are “Motown”, because they want Misha B in the final (that’s okay, for once the wishes of the producers and my own are in concord) and The Song That’ll Get Me Into The Final, which obviously means just about anything. Oh, if only Janet were still in the competition. She could’ve finally sang Slipknot. Or just stood on stage in a boiler suit looking confused having forgotten the lyrics.

Misha B is up first. Her intro-video is one of those “let’s ignore the fact she was in the bottom two last week” ones where they try to make the contestant seem super-cheerful and determined to pick herself up and carry on as normal, as opposed to violently thumping anyone who looked at her crossways in the reproductive organs, which is what actually happened. Misha is so happy to still be in the competition and make a go of it! She definitely didn’t force a random production assistant to abort her foetus in an act of atavistic vengeance. Misha also had the opportunity to meet Justin Bieber this week, and she took the chance to bully him on account of his massive vagina. Misha is singing Dancing in the Street while lines of Matrix-style code run up and down the screen behind her. I’m not sure what this staging is meant to represent. Maybe someone uploaded Rebecca Ferguson into the staging software? Misha is wearing a terrible wig this week because she’s ashamed of her Afro-Caribbean heritage and wishes she had straight Caucasian hair. That’s the root of her desire to bully. It all comes down to hair. JUDGES! Louis Walsh’s contribution amounts to “You’re Misha B. You’re in the semi-final. The theme is Motown.” I don’t know Louis stating the fucking obvious surprises me at this stage. It’s what he’s has been doing all series along. Tulisa reckons that performance will get Misha through the final. That means she’s gone tomorrow, then.

Kelly Rowland is too busy pondering potential solutions to the eurozone fiscal crisis and almost forgets to introduce her act. She barely recovers by saying “Oh! Ah ain’t ready for mah grrl! It’s Kathleen Slater!” Nice save. Amelia’s intro-reel features her wearing a leopard print headband with kitty ears. AS a result, I am blind to any other details in her VT. There may have been some guff about how her life has changed since rejoining the show (number 1 charity single, performing with international superstars/musical ingénues JLS and One Dimension, being able to afford designer earrings for her good friend Pat Butcher, etc.). Amelia’s singing Ain’t No Mountain High Enough, a song that’s all about the singer’s useless attempts to escape from the X-Factor contestant’s water-tight, give-us-your-firstborn contract. Amelia’s dancers are all wearing tartan for some inexplicable reason. I’ve always felt that nothing says Motown more than tartan. They’re also doing that “I AM SO ENTHUSED” face that dancers do when they’re acting or interpreting or whatever the fuck it’s called when dancers are playing out a scene and it’s completely fucking fake and makes me want to kill them all. Amelia has a two-tiered mini-stage that her tartan-fags help her off halfway through the performance so she can jog about the stage hyperactively while the dancers continue to make those fucking faces. Right, I’ve decided that next year’s charity single needs to be dedicated to helping backing dancers recover from the scourge of Dancer Face. Or just use the funds to ship them off to the Dignitas clinic. One or the other. JUDGES! Louis says the Amelia totally killed that Motown classic. The wake takes place next Wednesday. Dancers not welcome.

Little Kandy Girl-Lash are up next. Remember last week, when the muffins channelled the emotions and sadness of every young girl who had ever been bullied into Christina Aguilera’s Beautiful? Well, it turns out that those were HAPPY TEARS. That’s right, Little Mix are actually emotional vampires who feed on the negative feelings of others. Especially Pick ‘n’ Mix. This week the girls went to the premiere of Hugo, presumably so they could feed on the disappointment of the critics present when they found out that Martin Scoreses’s latest film is for children. Charles and Camilla were also at the premiere. Perhaps they should replace Kelly Rowland and Gary Barlow on the judging panel next year. Put it dahn! Little Mix are performing from atop a plinth that’s taller than the one Amelia had and has more lights and colours. The winner of this year’s show shall be the contestant with the most elaborate use of plinth, I think. I feel this year’s choreography genius, whoever the fuck he is, has overused the concept of the plinth and made it meaningless. I mean, last year if there was a plinth on stage, you knew that One Direction were going to try to connect emotionally with a ballad, and fail hilariously. Or that Rebeccabot needed to charge her batteries on-stage. But this year we’ve had plinths ahoy. Brian Friedman understood how to give the public just a little bit of plinth to keep them wanting more. Now I’m disillusioned with plinth. To be honest I wouldn’t care if I never saw a plinth again. Oh, the song? The girls are singing You Keep Me Hanging On by the Supremes. Mixed Race does a Janet Devlin and forgets her words at one point. You wouldn’t think this would be so bad with a girl band but unfortunately they’ve decided to approach this song with a series of solos in a variety of different styles suited to each individual voice that don’t exactly mesh together well. So yes, it’s rather noticeable. And the whole thing is a basically a wall of incoherent noise. JUDGES! Louis opines that the girls have lost their Mojo, presumably an invisible fifth member of the group who helps them with their harmonies. Kelly says they’ve done better, and when Gary suggests they should focus more on Myxomatosis on lead vocals, Kelly agrees: “In a girl group there’s always a lead singer. She so thinks that she was the lead singer of Destiny’s Child. 

Marcus and his lovely cheekbones are up next. In his VT he talks about how much fun making the video for the charity single was. The clip accompanying this statement consists of people throwing leaves at Marcus while he mimes. He’s not the brightest crayon in the box, is he? Robbie Williams randomly shows up to demand to be the centre of attention for a few minutes, as he is contractually obligated to do on every single series of this show. Marcus is singing My Girl. Gay Marcus is singing My Girl. Accompanied by the faggiest backing dancers ever. Marcus is also performing on a plinth. I’m voting for the plinth to win this show. Aside from some glory-noting and showboating, it’s probably the best he’s been in weeks. Which means it isn’t horrendous dross, at least. JUDGES! Marcus stands there and smiles gormlessly with his lovely cheekbones as the judges throw compliments at him. Kelly has momentarily forgotten that Marcus is a big flamer and flirts with him. Louis has momentarily forgotten that Marcus is 40 years younger than he is and flirts with him. Be careful in the lavatory later on, Marcus.

MISHA AGAAIN. The theme of her second intro video is Misha’s Journey So Far. It just recaps everything you already know and its basically what you’d imagine an intro-video would look like if Louis Walsh wrote the brief for it; you’re Misha B. You auditioned. You went to Boot Camp. You went to Kelly’s “home” and met Jennifer Hudson and tweeted “omg u look so fab – the bereavement diet is amazing” at her. You’re on the Live Shows. Next week is the final. Yep, definitely written by Louis. The song Misha has chosen to get her into the final is a more-ballady version of Pink’s Fucking Perfect, except without the naughty words. This is a huge disappointment. I was hoping that the song Misha B used to get to the final would be a cover of Missy Elliot’s She’s a Bitch, replacing all punctuation marks with Misha Evil Laughs. That would be amazing. Considering all signs point to Misha going home tomorrow night, it’s a shame that her last performance is something as completely neutered as this. Punch someone in the face while wearing a dress made from Heat magazines and dishwasher parts, Misha, please! JUDGES! Louis says she’s a major talent and should never be in the bottom two. I think it’s a bit late for that, Louis. Tulisa uses the words connect in a lot of different combinations and doesn’t make the slightest bit of sense. I think she must’ve signed a deal with Microsoft and misunderstand the part where they stipulated “We’ll give you £500 every time you say the word Kinect”. Gary Barlow decides to dredge up bullygate. What he says amounts to “Tulisa is a lying cunt and it ruined your chances in this competition.”

Kat Slater is up next. Before the competition she was a normal 17 year old girl, aside from the Progeria that makes her look about 30. Her intro video follows the same pattern as Misha’s although it’s slightly less rigid and includes a diversion into Kelly giving Amelia some advice and calling her a pro.I guess Louis wrote the script again and then someone actually proofread it. Amelia’s song to get her into the finale is the jingle from the Bodyform ad. “Whoooooa bodyform” she thunders, “Bodyformed for YOOOOOOU”. But not really. Kelly’s advice to Amelia was to be more upbeat and positive, so she’s decided to sing Avril Lavigne’s dreary ballad I’m With You. I can’t ever hear this song without being reminded of the stupid video with Avril standing in the snow wearing ¾ length pants. WHO WEARS ¾ LENGTH PANTS IN THE MIDDLE OF WINTER? A total PUNK like Avril, that’s who. God, that pop-punk mess of the early-mid 2000s was a scary time. The staging for Amelia’s performance involves a plinth, of course, suspending Amelia in front of a huge black hole. I have no idea what it’s meant to mean. Maybe Not-Bran-Friedman, as I shall call whoever is responsible for the choreography and staging this year, got a new screensaver and wanted to show it off. I do wish they had introduced us to the bastard responsible for the performances this year, actually. It’s hard to hate someone without a face to put to the interpretive dance concepts that enthral millions each week. That’s why I really appreciate the screen time they gave to the fashion Nazis in Style Team™. Personally, I think the black hole represents the yawning chasm in Gary Barlow’s soul where normal people keep things like empathy and understanding. JUDGES! Louis pleads with Kelly, “She has to be in the final!” I don’t think it’s Kelly’s decision, Louis. Tulisa says that I’m With You is one of the best songs ever. Please remember that Tulisa is 22 years old. Gary Barlow decides Amelia is smiling too much so he decides to tear her apart for being “shouty”. Has he never seen Eastenders? That’s just how they speak in Walford! The way Amelia thanks Gary for his criticism has an underlying subtext of “I’m going to run you down when I see you in the car park.”  Kelly applauds Amelia on her beautiful pipes. Kelly has full body CT scans of all of her girls, and likes to let them know which of their internal organs are the prettiest.

Marcus is next and his VT is about the gay old time he had at the hairdressing awards. Given the fabulous subject matter, I guess Louis wrote this one too. Marcus explains how Gary has become a father to him, replacing the absent one who missed out on his childhood and in doing so ensured he would become a homosexual. As you can imagine, this intro video about hair-dressing awards (which Jonathan Ross appears to have presented, for some reason... I guess the hair industry is much more powerful than I had anticipated. Maybe they can save the Euro.) is the most fascinating thing ever. Moving swiftly on before we all fall into a boredom-induced coma, Marcus has decided that the song to get him into the final is a limp and rather hollow performance of the Jackson 5’s Can You Feel It? Marcus is performing from a plinth, of course, but his plinth DESCENDS FROM THE CEILING, which I think means the producers want him to win. I mean, none of the other contestants were gifted with a sky-borne plinth. The song starts out all flat and weird. Maybe it’s the thin air high above the audience on Sky-Plinth. He’s wearing a leather outfit that’s been put together using just 20% of the leather that Sami Brookes wore for her ill-advised attempt at singing a Cher song during Everyone Wears Leather For Some Reason night back in Week 3. JUDGES! They all thought it was a bit lacking, except for Barlow who thought it was the best thing ever. 

Closing the show is Little Mix. Last week, the intro reel informs us, they got to meet Jessie J again after she helped put the group together at Judge’s Houses! Insert clip of Jessie J having no idea who any of them are and barking something about feeling the music and being credible or some such shit. Get a haircut, Jessie! This time last year, Pick ‘n’ Mix was working in a bar, where she was employed to eat all the peanuts on the floor at the end of the night. Her appraisals were always very positive. Myxomatosis, meanwhile, had just finished college and was wondering what she would do with her life, while Mixed Race worked at Pizza Hut. We’re not told what Mixed Up and her little vole face used to do for a living this time last year, so I’m assuming she was either dole-scum or a model for some of Sylvanian Families rodent people. The girls remind us all that they’re SISTUHS and really love one another and then Pick ‘n’ Mix starts crying AGAIN. She is now officially the most leaky-eyed contestant since Leona “Cried Every Week” Lewis. I’m a bit chubby! Waaaaaah. I’m being bullied by Misha! Waaaaaah. Misha’s stopped bullying me! Waaaaaah. Where’s my Doritos? Waaaaaah. The girls are singing If I Were a Boy. Again, they all get extended solo bits, including Mixed Up Rat Girl, who may be about to topple Pick ‘n’ Mix as my favourite. And it takes a LOT of leverage to topple her. Rat Girl just looks so sneaky. I wouldn’t be surprised if she had a utility belt full of smoke bombs, just in case she ever needs to make a quick getaway. She’s probably the one who forced Frankie to snort those 58 lines of cocaine from the Bulgarian prostitute’s backside and told the paparazzi. Mixed Race doesn’t forget her lines this time, which is nice. The performance is equal parts atrocious and decent, but there are no plinths involved so I think they could be in trouble. JUDGES! Louis compares Little Mix to Girls Aloud and the Sugababes. I’m going to assume it’s meant to be a compliment. Kelly says that when they find their dynamic they’ll change the world. No, really. Kelly actually said that Little Mix will change the world. Are they going to stumble upon the cure for AIDS while writing lyrics for their second album or something? Barlow says they were shit and should be ashamed of themselves for bring such weak vocals to the final, and that if they’re in the final next week and sing that badly, he’s going to shoot himself live on air. A slightly deranged Tulisa breaks the Judging Table in half as she passionately beats it with her fist while imploring the public to vote. HIGH WYCOMBE MUST VOTE. That crucial High Wycombe vote is make or break for politicians, referenda and reality TV show girl bands.

Performances over, Dermot reminds us what we have to look forward to on tomorrow’s results show: performances from Justin Bieber (oh dear) and Kelly Rowland (oh very dear). There’s an unending recap of tonight’s performances and a bit of shameless cross promotion with I’m A Fucking Has-Been Who Stretches the Definition of the Word Celebrity Into Meaninglessness, Get Me Out of Here before the show’s over and we can all clench our anuses in anticipation of the excitement that will be the semi-final results show.

The X-Factor 2011: Week 8 - Results

It’s the results show! With special guests Olly Murs and Jessie J! Oh, we’re really scraping the barrel now, aren’t we? We’re zooming along this week. I barely have time to make sure that the scowl of horror I wear each week when watching this show is properly affixed, and we’re already on to Olly Murs and his musical performance. Oh, and the Muppets? The Muppets? Are they promoting their new film that isn’t being released in Europe until February 2012? Excellent timing, Disney. So Animal is on the drums (of course), Fozzie is on bass and a curious looking new muppet descends from the ceiling in some contraption and proceeds to dance about on-stage singing badly and... oh, it’s Olly Murs. What, you thought just because that joke was obvious I was going to avoid making it? This is actually the most bizarre thing ever. Perhaps they felt that the only way to make Olly interesting when his trousers aren’t so tight that they’re cutting off the circulation to his brain is to add an elaborate performance involving some of the world’s most beloved puppets. When Olly Murs looks back on his career (some time next year when he’s invariably dropped by SyCo) I really have no idea whether he’ll consider this a high point or a low point. Performance over, Olly chats with Dermot and then strokes Miss Piggy’s leg. The actual Miss Piggy. Not Jesy from Little Mix. Olly looks confused when Miss Piggy doesn’t react. I don’t think he realises that as she’s made out of felt she can’t actually feel it when he squeezes her thigh.

Before you can say mahnah mahnah (doo doo doo doo doo), we’re on to the interminable recap. Remember when Janet sang Mmbop last night? No, neither do I, because she didn’t sing it so much as sway about on-stage as the music played. We zip through the interminable recap at light-speed this week. Does this mean I can’t call it the interminable recap any more? And we’re straight on to Jessie J. Two performances and the interminable recap, with no adverts thus? Are the producers feeling okay? This is all very strange; normally the concept of an ad break is used as a punctuation mark between sentences on this show. As Jessie J sings her latest dirge, which is the song that Misha B sang a few weeks ago in the sing-off, I keep thinking that a light fitting is going to fall accidentally and injure her to prevent her taking up her place as a judge on the BBC’s forthcoming potential X-Factor rival, The Voice. Then I remember every single BBC Saturday evening reality show of the past 15 years and realise that ITV don’t need to do anything to sabotage the competition, the Beeb will manage that all by themselves. Jessie J is a screechy mess who spends the duration of this song beating every note in the song to death with all the other notes that hang around it. Dermot and Jessie chitchat and mentions several times how much the song means to her because she wrote it herself and she’s so credible and an artist and BUY HER ALBUM. 

Ah, an ad break. I feel much better now. Everything has been set right with the world. The reason for the ridiculous pace of tonight’s show becomes apparent as Dermot introduces a short film about the work of the charity benefitting from this year’s X-Factor Charity Single™. Yes, it’s that awkward moment when the X-Factor does something for a good cause and I can’t say anything cruel about it, because the charity they’ve chosen is one that helps dying children. Damn, that’s just completely bullet-proof. Unlike last year’s charity, which helped injured soldiers. The short film ends and without much fanfare we’re straight into the performance of Wishing on a Star. Oh look, there's Kitty. They actually let her back into the building? They’re never going to get rid of her. The only reason they got her out the last time was because she went for a drink with Lady Gaga, an object of fervent religious worship for Kitty. And the gays. I can’t tell which lineup The Risk are using for this autotuned, lip-synched mess, but I’m going to assume the band now consists of four random people who visited the ITV website, got a pop-up saying “Would you like to be in a mediocre boyband?” and clicked Yes in the hope that they’d end up replacing Irish Bieber in One Direction. Oh, speak of the talentless devil, there he is! Yes, just when you thought the stage couldn’t get any more packed, they wheel in JLS and One Dimension to sing the last 8 seconds of the song. Just keep telling yourself it’s for a good cause. Dermot excitedly announces that The Chancellor has decided to waive the VAT on the single so that all proceeds go to charity. Hooray for the Chancellor! Unfortunately, the VAT on the XFactor Charity Single would’ve saved several thousand public sector employees. Boo for the Chancellor!

O FORTUNA! It’s actual results time. The contestants swagger on-stage following a quick change of outfit from their charity single clothes to their potential elimination clothes. Kat Slater appears to be wearing something from Ann Summers. I didn’t realise they had a Junior Miss Slapper line. In no particular order, and padded out as much as Dermot possibly can, because he’s only got three names to call out are Amelia, Marcus and Little Kandy Girl Lash. Thank god Little Mix got through, Tulisa actually looked like she was going to vomit while waiting for that announcement. Speaking of vomit, when Dermot asks Kelly how she feels about having two of her acts in the bottom two, she says that she’s feeling very sick. Oh fuck, she’ll be on a plane to LA within the hour in that case.

First up is Janet. Doing her Janet thing that she does, in her own Janet way that she knows how to do. This usually means forgetting the lyrics, these days. Janet’s song for survival is Snow Patrol’s Chasing Cars. Oh Janet, you don’t need to chase cars. Brendan will pick you up in his hearse. It’s pleasant and better than anything else she’s sung recently. Though anyone I spoke to about it afterwards hated it, so maybe I just like the sound of funereal keening. That should be the name of Janet’s first album, I think. That or Drowning in Formaldehyde. 

Misha is up next. She has decided to sing a song for survival, despite the fact that she could just stand there doing her evil Misha laugh for 2 minutes and the judges would still choose to send Janet home instead. Misha’s performance is vocally strong but fairly bland. Poor Misha. You’re awesome, but no one will vote for you. Why is that? Oh right, the bully thing. Whoops. 

Louis Walsh is first up. This week Louis has decided that he’s basing his decision on yesterday’s performances. As with all the judges, criteria governing the decision of who to eliminate seems to change every week. Sometimes it’s the sing-off alone. Soemtimes it’s yesterday’s performances. Sometimes it’s based on “potential to be a recording artist”. Sometimes it’s based on how hard Louis wants to bone them. Other times it's based on whether or not their name is an anagram of something the judge likes. What’s the point of the bloody sing-off if it has no effect on the elimination? Anyway, Louis sends Janet home. Tulisa sends Janet home. Kelly Rowland sobs and sniffles and wipes her non-existent tears unconvincingly until Dermot reminds her that if she refuses to make a decision, The Cheryl Cole Solution will come into effect. The Cheryl Cole Solution states that in the event of a judge refusing to choose between her own act because she’s frightened the public will think she’s a bitch for doing so, then the act with the most votes from the other judges will go home. Kelly says a silent prayer of thanks to St. Cheryl and decides to enact X-Factor precedent and avoid making a decision. She also gives Dermot a blowjob for reminding her of the ability to abstain. Janet’s farewell video reminds us of the quiet little blonde girl who was tragically slain by Biscuitman before being reanimated by the producers in a dark voodoo ritual to avoid the controversy of harbouring a serial killing biscuit maker. 

Next week, it’s Semi-Final time. Last year’s semi-final was where they decided to change the rules to ensure Mary Tesco was eliminated; so I can’t wait for next week’s shock Everyone-Who-Isn’t-Named-Misha-B-Is-Out twist. Oh, and Kelly Rowland will be performing on the results show, too, providing she isn’t in LA with another “cold” or busy tweeting photos to Beyoncé captioned “Me & Misha hanging out. U jelly?”.

The X-Factor 2011: Week 8

 It’s time! To disgrace! The music! And I hope you’ve got your ears secured, because we’re disgracing it twice as hard as last week because the contestants are going to be doing double the singing. Last week, Biscuitman was eliminated and the rate of unexplained murders in the area surrounding Rancho X-Factor coincidentally plummeted. As did sales in the nearest confectioners. Voiceover Man excitably informs the audience about each contestant singing twice as he’s accompanied by the most over-dramatic music ever used in this show’s recap. And we’re talking about a programme that uses O Fortuna on a weekly basis, here. Voiceover Man reminds us that Kelly Rowland has three acts left. “Let’s see how long that lasts,” states an outraged Gary Barlow, using the power of basic mathematics to work out that Kelly has a 3/5 chance of losing an act tomorrow. Dancing Dermot sashays on-stage. The less said about it the better. He explains this week’s theme, Guilty Pleasures and Musical Heroes by saying that this week’s theme is Guilty Pleasures and Musical Heroes.

First up is Little Kandy Girl-Lash, again introduced as Tulisa’s Little Muffins. Look, they’ve already been through one name change, Tulisa, why are you trying to confuse things even more? Newcastle Little Mixer explains how this week, the girls “wentoo wintah wundalahnd”, which is Geordie for “My colleagues and I visited a Christmas themed carnival. It was simply marvellous. The atmosphere was splendidly festive, and our mentor, Ms Tulisa Contostavlos, accompanied us, which made the evening all the more enjoyable. When the evening drew to a close, we returned to our temporary lodgings with many happy memories that I shall ever look back on with a huge smile. Before bed, I decided to start a new book, but had a hard time choosing between Julian Barnes’ The Sense of an Ending and Alan Hollinghurst’s The Line of Beauty. While I’m eager to read the former due to the furore surrounding this year’s Man Booker Prize, I ultimately decided to begin reading The Line of Beauty in earnest. I think recently viewing the trailer for Meryl Streep’s Thatcher put me in the mood for some fiction set in that turbulent era. Thus far, it has not disappointed.” Or something. There’s footage of Tulisa and the girls on a slide, recreating that famous experiment where Galileo dropped a heavy item and a light item from the Leaning Tower of Pisa to show how objects fall at the same speed irrespective of mass. And sure enough, Tulisa and Pick ‘n’ Mix make it down the slide at more or less the same time. Eventually, the editors of this VT remembered that it was for a singing competition, and got around to explaining the song choice – the girls will be singing a Justin Bieber song, mashed up with a Diana Ross number. And I have no idea if it’s meant to be their guilty pleasure or their musical heroes. The girls perform Bieber’s “Baby” with elaborate staging. They’re waitresses in a 1950s style Diner. But there’s no food! I wonder who ate it all? Why did they have to open the show with a Justin Bieber song? Are they trying to completely destroy me? How am I supposed to remain coherent for another 9 songs after this opening? JUDGES! Louis didn’t like it, because they insulted his diva Goddess Diana Ross by twisting her song into a dark Satanic chant by mixing it with the lyrics and music of the pubescent Canadian demonspawn.

Next up is Janet Devlin. “I’m going home” she announces in her intro video. Oh Janet, don’t be so defeatist! The elimination isn’t until tomorrow! But sure enough, back home she goes, BACK TO HORRIBLE IRELAND. Dying, famine-stricken bankers line the streets, staring at Janet forlornly with sunken, hopeless eyes. “Where have the good times gone?” they ask her, with distended stomachs that haven’t known the sweet taste of caviar, cocaine or Cristal champagne since the Anglo-Irish bailout. Janet sways down Main Street, Tyrone, wailing her song of death as headless horsemen reap the souls in her wake. Then she turns on the Christmas lights, and ooh, aren’t they pretty? Janet explains that she’ll be singing Hanson’s Mmmbop, which is not really the type of song she normally likes. THAT'S WHY THEY'RE CALLED GUILTY PELASURES YOU GHASTLY TIT. Janet Devlin does Mmmbop? Is this a sign of the end times? It starts less awful than her Jackson 5 song from a few weeks ago. Then again, that’s like saying that having your testicles chopped off is a less awful way to be emasculated than having a red hot poker shoved 5 inches up your urethra. But then Janet manages to forget the lyrics AGAIN, and just shuffles about awkwardly on-stage. “Mmmbop”, Janet! The fucking lyrics are “Mmmbop”! JUDGES! Louis tries to pretend everything is okay, because he realises that Janet winning is the only way for Ireland to battle its way out of recession. Everyone else knows it was a train wreck.

It’s Misha B time! In her intro-reel, Misha explains that the past few weeks have been really emotional for her, but that she’s decided that she “wants Misha B back”. Oh great, this means she’s started leaving dead animals in Little Mix’s dressing room again, does it? “I’m saying goodbye to all my troubles”, Misha explains, so I can only conclude that Kelly Rowland has had Mama Misha B assassinated after the upset she caused last weekend. Misha consults with the Evil Fashion Nazis of Style Team.  After picking her outfit, she confirms that she’s definitely back to being 100% Misha B. That’s good to hear. I hate when my Misha B is laced with impurities like rat poison and baking soda. Misha’s guilty pleasure is Cyndi Lauper’s Girls Just Wanna Fun, performed from atop a big red stairs. As you do. There’s rapping! There’s a patented Misha B laugh in there, too! Ha! Aha-ha! That sound is music to my ears, although I’m sure it sends chills down the spines of everyone Misha has ever bullied. So about 15% of the population of the British Isles, then. JUDGES! They all love Misha B and they’re terribly excited that she’s back and gotten rid of that dreary clone who replaced her for the past few weeks.

Up next is Marcus, who’ll be singing Wham’s I’m Your Man. Hopefully Louis won’t take that as a proposition. Marcus’s VT is all about his relationship with Gary. He’s not just his mentor, you see, he’s his FWIEND. Marcus excitedly tells us how he visited Gary’s recording studio, which I’m just going to assume is a horrible smutty euphemism. Further talk of Gary’s “recording studio” and the fun times Marcus had “in it” pushing all the buttons and fiddling with the knobs. What vile smut. On to the performance! Marcus singing this song is somehow gayer than George Michael doing it. Perhaps that’s why George was taken ill this week; Marcus is absorbing his swagger. Well, that or his habit of smoking greenhouses of weed and crashing into gay cruising areas has finally worn his health away to nothing. Marcus proceeds to vault up onto the judge’s table and gyrates in front of Louis Walsh. MY EYES! Judges! Louis is unable to talk because he is so overcome with arousal. The sexually charged talk continues as Kelly Rowland fixates on Marcus’s abs, Dermot calls him “The postman who ALWAYS delivers”, Gary Barlow mentions how Marcus “came in my dressing room earlier” and Louis talks about how he’d like Marcus to explode hot sperm all over his face. 

Kelly Rowland warns us to shut the building down as Kat Slater is next. Why? Does she have rabies or something? Diabetes isn’t contagious, Kelly, you ignorant shrew. Amelia explains how she’s so happy she got through at the expense of Fat Craig. This intro video is where she truly becomes an established part of the show, as we experience all of the clichés you’d expect from an X-Factor intro-reel the week after a contestant was in the bottom two. Amelia is sad! Amelia picks herself back up! Amelia is determined not to end up in the sing-off again! Amelia’s guilty pleasure is Anita Dobson’s Anyone Can Fall in Love, also known as The Ridiculous Song That Put Lyrics to the Eastenders’ Theme Tune and Inexplicably Made it to No.4 in the UK Charts. Well, actually it’s T’Pau’s China in Your Hands. But I’m going to pretend she sang the other song instead, because that’s much more amusing than the reality of Amelia belting out T’Pau and doing a damned good job of it. So, four-fifths of the guilty pleasures were songs from the 1980s? And the other one was Justin Bieber, which doesn’t count as actual music as it is actually a form of aural heroin that only affects thirteen year old girls. Judges! Louis reminds everyone that he saved Kat last week. Except he fucking well didn’t, he showed homo-solidarity and voted to save Biscuitman last week. Tulisa loved Amelia! Gary... reminds Amelia of her numerous defeats in this competition for some reason and then insults T’Pau. He goes on to call your mother fat, makes a joke about people with Down’s Syndrome and then phones Simon Cowell to ask is he doing the likeable Mr Nasty routine right yet.

Up next again is Little Kandy Girl-Lash again. And again, Tulisa introduces them as her “Little Muffins” again again again. And to think they call this show predictable repetitive nonsense. A second song means suffering through a second intro-video. Because the first wasn’t execrable enough. The girls explain that their musical hero is Christina Aguilera and they’re going to be singing Beautiful as it means so much to them. Because, we are reminded for the millionth time, they’re ordinary girls! Just like all the girls at home who don’t normally vote for girlbands on this show because they think they’re going to fuck their boyfriends and piss on their favourite shoes or whatever primal social fear it is that makes girls mean to one another for no reason. So keep voting for Little Mix, because if you don’t, it’s just like kicking yourself in the face with a shit-covered shoe. Footage of the girls being interviewed by a random radio dude about Pick ‘n’ Mix being bullied online. “I AM NEVER GOING TO GO ON A DIET BECAUSE I LIKE EATING TOO MUCH”, she explains. She’s got such a mighty mane of hair. She looks like a lioness. Or a King Charles Cavalier. The girls do an average rendition of this incredibly over-exposed and worn out song that has Pick ‘n’ Mix sobbing her little heart out by the end. Awwww. I think I want them to win now, just because my life is a better place with Jesy in it. The rest of them can fuck off. Aside from Mixed Up, maybe. I like her evil little vole-like face. Judges! Louis is still in the toilets masturbating furiously after Marcus thrusted into his face earlier. Kelly liked it. Gary Barlow thought the vocal was a bit weak but he approves of the friendship between the girls. I’m sure they’re delighted to know that. Dermot attempts to speak to a snotty/sobby Pick ‘n’ Mix, who explains that they chose the song because all the ORDINARY GIRLS who follow them on Twitter asked them to. So what you’re saying is that you didn’t pick the song because Christina is your musical hero? I’ve just lost all respect for Little Mix. Which means I feel exactly the same about them as I did 3 minutes ago.

The next act is Janet, unless she’s forgotten how to leave the toilet where she’s been crying for the past 40 minutes since she forgot the words to Mmmbop. As the theme for the second song is musical heroes, I was really hoping that we’d see Janet perform some Pantera. Alas, she’s decided to sing the Red Hot Chilli Peppers’ Under the Bridge instead. Dammit, Janet. In the intro-video we’re introduced to her boyfriend Brendan, who looks rather a lot like Richmond the Goth from the IT Crowd. Or y’know, Noel Fielding, who isn’t exactly dressing much different when he’s playing Richmond to how he normally dresses, I guess. The staging for Janet’s performance involves a giant screen with Janet’s face on it blankly fading in and out, watching herself perform. It's like that Halloween special of South Park presented in Spooky Vision that has Barbra Striesand's face flash on-screen to horrifying effect every so often. I like to think it’s a manifestation of Janet’s soul, trapped in limbo watching her reanimated body perform and helpless to do anything about it. And wondering how Brendan can love the cold, dead skin of zombie Janet so much more than he ever loved Live Janet. It’s much better than her first song, which is faint praise indeed. Being kicked in the face by a horse is a better experience than Janet singing Mmmbop. JUDGES! Blah blah blah Ireland blah blah blah shamrock says Louis. Tulisa lauds Janet for being herself. Basically Tulisa says something completely pointless. Then Gary says that he respects Janet for completely ignoring the advice and criticism he gives her every single week. Gary likes when people ignore him? He’d fucking love me so; I’m always trying to convince myself that he doesn’t exist. Kelly Rowland says Janet should be proud because she, and I quote “you’re still like I’m still gonna come out here and I’m still gonna sing my Janet Devlin style way of singin that I know how to do”. Such a wordsmith, that Kelly Rowland. Before Dermot can interview Janet, the Ghostbusters storm into the studio and trap her in an ecto-containment unit. 

Misha’s second intro video is all about how Misha and Kelly are BFFs now. We see them hanging out and having fun, and Misha enthuses to the camera about how awesome Kelly is, and Kelly bitches about how Beyoncé hasn’t been in touch in weeks, and when she is it’s all baby this and baby that, so she’s had to get a new BFF and as Michelle Williams is so fucking boring, she decided to go with Misha instead. They hug! Misha is performing Killing Me Softly as her second song. So does this mean that Lauren Hill is her musical hero or Roberta Flack? Misha performs in front of several mirrors, reflecting her arse into infinity. Imagine if they’d done this kind of staging for Treyc and Her Massive Arse last year. It would have melted eyeballs. Continents would been lost. Civilisations destroyed. The mirrors make it appears as though there are many Mishas, which I’m sure is a concept that has reduced all of Little Mix to tears. The performance doesn’t really work. For a start, there’s no rapping. Secondly, there’s no evil Misha laugh. And finally, she sings the whole song in a rather upbeat manner that just doesn’t work. It comes across as "Oh, he's killing me softly! Wheeeeee!" But it’s definitely better than Little Paije Richardson’s gender-altered version from last year, so I guess that’s something. Judges! Tulisa reckons that this has been Misha’s best week ever and that she’s the one the other contestants have to beat. Including the ones who have never been in the bottom two, Tulisa? Gary says that the competition would be duller without Misha. Well, he’d be the expert on that, wouldn't he.

Marcus returns with a completely unfocussed intro-video that’s sort of about how Stevie Wonder has always been his musical hero, genuinely, unlike all the other contestants who were just lying (I’M LOOKING AT YOU, LITTLE MIX) and then segues into how his mother is so proud of her gay postman son, who clambers onto tables and shoves his crotch into the faces of middle-aged Irish men while singing 80s camp classics by public-sex fan George Michael. Marcus is singing Stevie’s Lately. He sings it a little bit too earnestly; it’s all a bit over-emotional and contrived to drag emotions out of your unfeeling heart whether you like it or not. It's also boring. Really boring. JUDGES! Louis just stares at Marcus’s groin and doesn’t say a word. Tulisa says it was emotional. Yes, Tulisa, but it was too emotional. It was forced emotion. It was overwrought and unconvincing. And more than a little bit shouty. Tulisa tells us that Marcus doesn’t want to play the sympathy card but he’s had a tough life and deserves to be in the competition. I KNEW he seemed excessively comfortable gyrating for old man Louis earlier! Tulisa’s comments just make me want to Google Marcus non-stop until I can find out exactly what the fuck she’s referring to. 

We’ve somehow survived 9 performances, and just have to make it through one more, as Kat Slater closes the show. Kelly, introducing Amelia, refers to her fans as “her lillies”, which just sounds like a fanny pad. I can picture the advert right now. Just like all tampon ads, it’d feature Kelly hanging out with her girls on a rollercoaster, or about to go skydiving when, oh no, she’s on the blob! What is she going to do? Why, she’ll just stuff in Her Lillies™, of course, and then she’ll sky dive and coast rollers all the live-long day, whilst being all super-fresh and clean and other words that blood-nappy adverts typically feature. Amelia explains, in her intro video, how Kelly Clarkson is her musical hero, because she was in a show like the X-Factor and went on to have a music career. By that logic, couldn’t Cher Lloyd be Amelia’s musical hero? I think I’d love to see her cover Swagger Jagger. It’d certainly be better than this lacklustre version of Since You’ve Been Gone. The vocals are up and down and all around the place. It isn’t terrible, it’s just a bit pitchy. JUDGES! Gary thought it was a bit shouty, Tulisa thought it had problems but proved that Amelia was a rocker at heart, and Louis Walsh has nothing of import to say, ever.

That’s your lot for tonight. Tune in tomorrow when the show will feature world-class musical guests like... eh... Olly Murs and Jessie J. Oh. Well, tune in anyway.

The X-Factor: Week 7 - Performances & Results

IT’S TIME. TO DISGRACE. THE MOVIES! In a surprise twist, this week’s episode begins on time. No last minute contestant resignations or returns. No technical hitches. No Jihadists bursting into the studio and unleashing a hail of semi-automatic weapons-fire into the judges, tearing Gary Barlow apart while Louis Walsh observes “You’re Muslim. You’re angry. You’re like little theocratic revolutionaries.” 

This week’s Dermot’s Dance Dance Revolution is set to the James Bond theme. I gather they’ve now started doing elaborate dancing-presenter intros with Steve Jones and His Mysteriously Disappearing Welsh Accent as well on the US Factor. That just shows how completely spontaneous and natural this franchise is, and how the producers don’t just have a tick-box of elements that the series should have. Dermot unleashes many terrible film-related puns before welcoming the Judges on-stage. Unfortunately, Kelly Rowland is not dressed like the bastard offspring of the landed gentry and a penguin this week.

Gary Barlow introduces Craig Colton with all the enthusiasm of a comatose deaf mute. Biscuitman intro-videos about how he attended a charity gig put on by Barlow. At no point do they mention the name of the charity, which you’d imagine is the kind of thing you might want to do with good causes. The contestants got a shock announcement this week, the VT informs us, when Tulisa announced that all of the remaining contestant were definitely on the X-Factor tour. They scream with delight until they realise it means being shackled together in a tour bus for several months for less than £100 a week. Oh naive contestants, you didn’t think the producers weren’t going to find some way to claw back the money they spent on bleaching and straightening your teeth, did you? Now we’re on to Biscuitman’s family. Jesus this VT is covering a lot of ground. Biscuitdad kisses his son. That’s the root of his homosexuality right there. Emotionally distant fathers produce strong, independent manly sons – that’s Parenting 101. “We always knew Craig was going to be a singer from an early age” says Biscuitdad, cleverly using the word singer as a euphemism as a hilariously fake and staged clip of Craig listening to Paparazzi at a bus stop segues into last week’s aneurism-inducingly boring performance. “We’re so proud to be his mum and dad”. What terrible parents. They’ve changed the little clips that accompany Voiceover Man’s announcement of the names at the end of the intro reels, presumably to replace the terrifying faces Craig used to pull in his with a marginally less terrifying one of him smiling while thinking about how he’s going to cut out and eat your liver while you’re still alive.

Craig is singing Licence to Kill, from some James Bond film whose name escapes me. The Living Daylights, probably. “Please don't bet that you'll ever escape me; Once I get my sights on you.” This song is doing nothing to undermine my suspicions that Craig is a serial killer. Soaring vocals and glory notes! Horrifying facial expressions! Arm-thrusts of emotion! I’ll give Biscuitman this much: he’s consistent. Unfortunately he’s consistently as dull as dishwater and this week’s performance is no different. JUDGES! Louis thinks Craig is better than the song choice; Tulisa thinks he sounded amazing but also doesn’t rate the song choice, and Kelly Rowland comes within several nanometres of actually offering criticism, before reining herself in and deciding that “AH JUST LOVE YOU” is a constructive critique.  Gary Barlow rails on Louis and Tulisa by pointing out that the X-Factor is a singing competition, not a “song-choosing competition”. Like the famous Eurovision Song Choosing Competition, for example. Louis and Tulisa’s reactions are priceless; the latter reminds Barlow that he has criticised song choices several times in the past. Gary decides to deal with this by continuing to talk until the other judges fall asleep from exposure to his dreary voice.

Up next is Wee Janet from Horrible Ireland. Janet’s intro video repeats Gary’s warning from last week on how she was bordering on boring. This really cut to the bone for Janet, because if anyone knows boring, it’s Mr Barlow. Janet is very pretty in her intro video; they really should stop trying to make her look like a corpse for her actual performances. “I’m not boring, I’m just weird” explains Janet, as she squashes some blueberries with a spoon and smears the resulting mush all over her eyelids. One of Evil Fashion Nazis from Style Team™ gets an airing in Janet’s VT to explain how difficult it is to dress Janet. I mean, first they have to find a cemetery with crypts from Victorian times, then they have to break into them, and then you mightn’t even find any bodies with the same build as Janet. Frankly, they can’t wait for her to leave so they can get back to more conventional styling arrangements like dressing poor Pick ’n’ Mix differently from the other members of Little Mix so she stands out even more, or making papier maché evening gowns for Misha B. Janet is amazed that people at the Twilight premiere knew her name. “How do you know my nyaaaaaaaam?” she wonders. Because people on Mars can hear Voiceover Man bellowing it, Janet. Janet is singing Sixpence None the Richer’s Kiss Me, from every teen chick flick ever. She’s accompanied by the fake plastic trees from Cher Lloyd’s throne of winter staging last year. Actually, the whole routine (Janet sings while two “lovers” seated on a park bench stare longingly into one another’s eyes and pretend to chat) seems very familiar. This show is now so creatively bankrupt that they’ve started re-using complete staging routines in addition to the props. Come back Brian Friedman, we need your twisted genius! JUDGES! Janet fidgets nervously, not because of their potential comments, but because the Elixir Vitae only works for a few hours and she doesn’t want to turn back into one of the undead live on-stage. Louis loved it and says she has “natural Celtic charm”, what with her hair, which the Style Team made redder, and her alabaster skin, which the Style Team make whiter. Natural Celtic charm indeed. Tulisa is happy that Janet is BACK IN HER BOX and not trying anything different. Gary Barlow says something forgettable, while Kelly has changed her speech-switch from Agreeable Nonsense to Random Bollocks Falling Out My Mouth. “Me Me? I’m Janet Devlin. Boo Boo.” So in addition to forgetting how to speak, she’s also forgotten who she is.

Comeback queen Kat Slater is up next. I was hoping her intro reel would distil six week’s worth of X-Factor VT clichés into one. We’d have a quick clip of Amelia sobbing because she misses her family; Amelia worrying about the bad comments she got from the Judges; Amelia ‘s anxiety about whether or not Alfie will be able to run the Queen Vic without her; Amelia telling us the story of her Type 1 Diabetes so we feel sorry for her; Amelia being bullied by Misha B because she’s the new girl, and so on. But alas this one just focuses on how Kelly took all of her girls to a spa so they could relax. We see Amelia and Kelly in a sauna together. I presume that Amelia excused herself at some point and tried to lock Kelly in there as part of her vendetta against her. If it hadn’t been for those damn modern safety features... Kat is singing Aretha Franklin’s Think, which was performed by Aretha on television once and is thus eligible for inclusion under Rule 18: No X-Factor theme shall ever be taken seriously, ever. As is always the case with Kat, I am continuously distracted by thinking “HOW THE FUCK IS SHE SIXTEEN?” during the performance. She puts in a competent and confident performance, which is nice for her given the head start all the other contestants have had in getting used to being on this show. Louis says that Amelia could be the next big female singing sensation (I don’t think Adele is getting off of that throne without a fight) although Louis also thought that Goldie Cheung could be the next big female singing sensation, so his judgement is a little suspect. Tulisa had a problem with the song choice, because she didn’t know it. It’s a bit surprising that Tulisa isn’t familiar with Aretha Franklin’s discography given that Ms Constostavlos’s professional career revolves around pretending to be black. Gary Barlow drones on about semitones until Amelia stabs him in the arm with her insulin and puts him into a coma. No one notices the difference.

Desperate times call for desperate measures, and following former bookies’ favourite Misha B’s second stint in the bottom two, the producers have decided to dredge up the biggest sob story imaginable. Well, second biggest – they could’ve killed her Aunt who raised her but they decided instead that they’d have Misha’s long-estranged mother write an open letter to the newspapers, and then film the resulting conversation between Kelly and Misha about their respective family issues. It’s rather awkward, because they can’t do the usual X-Factor thing of ending with a resolute statement of intent or easy summary of whatever the intro-video topic was. Instead it’s an appallingly voyeuristic insight into a girl with a troubled family-life talking around those issues, with someone she has only really known for 2 months, while a crew film every word and, judging by the background noise that accompanies it, several people are cleaning up after dinner nearby. I guess Kelly’s busy schedule meant they could only film this intensely personal moment for Misha while in the kitchen. So... they got me to feel sorry for Misha, but not for the reasons they wanted? Is that still a win for the heartless bastards? I’m surprised they didn’t set this whole piece to a ballad version of Papa Roach’s Broken Home segueing into the Spice Girls’ Mama. If all that wasn’t enough, they also decided to dress Misha as an angel, to make you feel even worse for not voting for her. She’s singing a song from The Bodyguard that isn’t the Dolly Parton cover. I didn’t even know the Bodyguard had more than one song. It’s a typically strong vocal but I miss fierce bitch Misha with the Rhino hair and newspaper thrones. BRING HER BACK. I was hoping that having someone new to bully in the shape of Amelia would reignite that spark, as it is clearly being cruel to others that fuels her talent. Alas, Mamma Misha’s move probably cancelled that out. Dman you, Mamma Misha. JUGDES! Louis reminds Manchester to vote for Misha. So does Tulisa. I think she might need a bit more than just one city to vote for her in this show that frequently tallies voting numbers above ten million, guys. Gary says he was very sad to see Misha “last week twice in the bottom week”, which I guess means that Kelly Rowland’s verbal diarrhoea affliction is contagious. He’ll be calling people Mimi and Boo Boo before he knows it. In between bouts of not making any sense, Gary agrees with me that we need Misha Bitch back. 

Tulisa again introduces Little Kandy Girl-Lash as her “little muffins” this week. Does this mean Tulisa has taken up the bullying baton from Misha now that she’s too forlorn to do it herself? The Little Mix VT is all about how difficult it is being a girl band. So they got some advice from The Saturdays, the group that have honed the girl band formula so successfully that one of them had to become a “part-time” member due to depression, and another just announced she’s knocked up. Well, Pick ‘n’ Mix is probably already depressed from being fat, so all we need is for one of the others to get pregnant and Little Mix will officially have made it. Personally I feel Mixed Up should be the one to sacrifice her hymen for the sake of the group as she’s currently the least noticeable member. You notice Mixed Race because... well, she’s mixed race. You notice Pick ‘n’ Mix because of all the crumbs and discarded sweet wrappers on the floor around her. And you notice Myxomatosis because she never shuts the fuck up in their intro videos. But Mixed Up? Totally needs to get pregnant. Or just replace her with Pregnant Shoe, actually. Little Mix also got to go to the premiere of Twilight. Cue shots of the Little Mixers being all squeaky and excited because THEY’RE NORMAL GIRLS JUST LIKE YOU AND LOVE TO ROT THEIR BRAINS ON THE INSIPID WORKS OF STEPHANIE MEYER WHO INVENTED VAMPIRES OMG TEAM EDWARD LOL. Taylor Lautner makes a brief appearance because if Kelly Rowland isn’t going to dress as a penguin this week then a man who looks like a llama is the next best thing. At no point is he topless so I totally don’t care. The girls are performing En Vogue’s Don’t Let Go, which was probably maybe used in a film some time. Maybe. Pick ‘n’ Mix has somehow been squeezed into a pair of leather trousers. In related news, the branch of Boots closest to the X-Factor studios is currently out of stock on talcum powder and Vaseline. It’s a surprisingly competent performance and the girls remain in harmony and in-tune about 90% of the time; three times more than One Direction can average, which I guess makes them the best X-Factor band ever. JUDGES! Louis says that it’s incredible how much they’ve grown and blossomed. I agree, I remember when they looked like the bargain bin at Topshop had been dumped over each of them, and now they’ve progressed into the evil stripper waitress look. Progress indeed. Kelly loved it. Gary breaks the horrible news that from next week, the contestants will be singing two songs each, and a part of me dies inside. The girls shuffle quickly off-stage so that Pick ‘n’ Mix can get out of the leather pants before her heart seizes up.

Ending the show is sparkle-fag Marcus. His intro video focuses on his mixed comments from last week, and his resulting identity crisis. Marcus thought he was finding himself, but now he isn’t so sure! By the end of the VT Marcus has decided that his true self is a womanising motorcyclist with a voice made of gravel, and he rides off into the sunset to be with his old lady Katey Segal. Not really. Marcus did however get to meet last year’s contestant Rebeccabot, who has returned from the future to save us from nuclear Armageddon in 2012. Unfortunately, her creator Dr Robotnik sent her back a year too early, so she’s going to piss about releasing an album and a few singles before she’s inevitably dropped by the record company in 6 months time. Her resulting fury will push her to decide that humankind must be punished, and she’ll upload her Artificial Intelligence to the world’s nuclear missile silos and destroy us all while nerds complain on internet forums that time paradoxes in Science Fiction just don’t make sense. Anyway, the gist of the intro video is that Rebecca helps Marcus to decide to do his own thing while being diverse, or something. Marcus is performing Higher and Higher while every person in the 40-member choir accompanying him pretend to have epileptic seizures for some reason. Perhaps it’s the outrageously loud pink tuxedo and matching pink shoes the evil fashion Nazis made him wear. Oh Style Team, really? You total fuckers. JUDGES! Louis describes Marcus as “The little man from Liverpool with the big soulful voice” and says he has nothing but good things to say about him because he wants to have sex with him. Kelly says that Marcus has shut the building down, confusing him with last week’s power failure. Then she starts talking about levitation and radiating beauty and she’s really in danger of becoming this show’s version of Paula “I see an aura around you” Abdul. 

RESULTS SHOW

  

Dermot informs us that our special guests this evening will be Rebeccabot and Rihanna. He introduces the judges, and it appears that Kelly is wearing a silver Jetsons dress to make Rebeccabot feel at home in the year 2011. Before we know it, our ears are being raped by the Horrendous Group Song, which Dermot promises us features “3 girls, 2 boys, a band and a very special over 25” – oh good, Kitty’s holding someone at gunpoint to get back on to the show, isn’t she? The dumbasses united are performing that song by Bryan Adams and Sporty Spice, so no prizes for guessing that the very special over-25 is Bryan Adams, making a surprise appearance to flog his greatest hits album and tour. Dermot asks Bryan if he has any advice for the contestants. “Write your own music and perform live as often as you can” He has never seen this show before, has he?

It’s awkward backstage chit chat time. Dermot asks Little Kandy Girl Lash to demonstrate their “good luck ritual”. Their good luck ritual involves them making faces. NORMAL GIRLS JUST LIKE YOU VOTE FOR THEM. Dermot asks Misha if she’s betraying her Afro-Caribbean heritage by straightening her hair. Then he asks Janet if she feels like she’s back on track. She does. Kat Slater says she doesn’t want to go home, and Craig says he thinks he might, because he realises he’s a boring bouncy bastard.

The first performance of the night, not counting that zombie Bryan Adams, is the return of Rebeccabot. We can be sure of this because the clip introduces her involves the words REBECCA RETURNS TO SAVE US ALL flashing on-screen in huge letters over a montage of her fighting the good fight against the Terminators in the Matrix. She’s performing atop a light-up plinth which I can only assume is either a regeneration device to charge her batteries, or the time machine she used to make it to the space year 2011. You know what’s an awful boring lyric? “La La La”. This song has some of that. And trust me, the last thing Rebeccabot needs is something to make this song MORE boring. After the performance, Rebecca informs Dermot that she co-wrote the album using a unique programme that came with her latest firmware upgrade. And she just sang live, too. Bryan Adams will be so happy. 

Next up is Rihanna, with a rather bizarre and ridiculous mess of a performance. Firstly, she’s singing We Found Love, which is basically a dance track, and they don’t exactly make for terribly interesting performance what with the repetitive lyrics and frequent sections of thumping music with no words. So they’ve decided to fill up all that space with dancers invading the audience and pretending to have the tamest rave ever. But secondly and even more bizarrely, there’s a backing track for the entire song, as though Rihanna was going to mime but then decided she wanted to sing live as well. So we have Rih-Rih singing in time to her own identical recorded vocals. And then halfway through she starts giving up and only half singing the lines and the whole thing is a complete disaster. She does however plug her new album like a pro when Dermot interviews her after the performance, so at least she got something right. 

And now it’s the results and time to crush someone’s dreams! IN NO PARTICULAR ORDER except that which producers the most drama, Misha B is safe, followed by Little Mix who have, inexplicably, NEVER been in the bottom two. Marcus is safe, so it’s between Janet, Kat Slater and Biscuitman for the sing-off. And Janet is safe so it’s Craig and Amelia in the bottom two. So the British public vote Kat INTO the competition last week, and this week she’s one of the two lowest polling contestants?

Anyhow, first up is Biscuitman, singing Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow, in the style of a kicked puppy. At several points he looks like he’s either going to burst into tears or vomit. He’ll feel better once he stalks an audience member on their way home, kills them and eats their brains with fava beans and a nice Chianti. Kat Slater meanwhile chooses to perform Gaga’s You and I, in the style of Lady Gaga. She does a good job. And then it’s decision time. Gary Barlow decides to be an absolute cunt and sticks the boot into Kat by telling her she shouted her way through her performance while Biscuitman’s was lovely and emotional. He sends Amelia home. Fuck off Gary. Kelly takes umbrage at Gary’s comments and unsurprisingly decides to send Craig home. One apiece, Dermot informs us, just in case we’d forgotten how to count. Tulisa sends Kat home. Louis decides to send Craig back to the biscuit factory, so we get the very first DEADLOCK of the series. And it seems the public have decided that the biscuit has gone stale, as Craig got the lowest number of votes. Simultaneously, Danyl Johnson deletes Craig's phone number. As they play the recap of his time in the show, I find that I actually cannot tell any of his performances apart. He really was doing exactly the same thing week after week. Fist pump, make a face, glory note. Lather, rinse, repeat. So I guess it’s a good thing that he’s going home, not least because the population of London are now safe from his murderous ways. But the X-Factor tour is starting soon. So lock up your loved ones and don’t walk alone in the dark, because the Biscuitman is coming to a town near you. And if you’re not careful, you might find yourself dunked. By which i mean horribly mutilated and left to die in a field while Craig emotionally punches the air and pulls a face.