From the Dusty Corners 2

Number Two in our series of unfinished symphonies concerns my fictionalisation of the creatures I encountered on the bus before I obtained a chauffeur (i.e. my unemployed mother). Alas there are no pictures for this one so move along if you can't read blogs that don't have bad photoshopping accompanying them.

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I’ve been getting the bus to work for a long time now, and in that time, I’ve come to know and love the regular passengers of route 308 as though they were kin of mine. I’ve also alleviated early morning boredom by building up complex back-stories for each and every one of them, which I am pleased to share.

UL Engineering Nerds: Or maybe they study mathsology. Or physics. I can’t be certain, as I base this assumption purely on half-glimpsed notes they quickly rummage through at exam-time. As a former Arts student, anything that involves a diagram is inevitably a Hard Science as far as I’m concerned. This duo can most often be found swapping tales about their modules, and various problems they endured before invariably coming up trumps. Often they will also discuss horror films, Xbox Live or Downloading Things Before They Have Aired Here, As Though That Makes Them Special. There is a deep-seated tension at the heart of their interaction, as their tales generally involve one trying to one-up the other, whether it be academically, through the number of episodes of The Walking Dead they watched in one night, or via the classic Irish medium of “I was so slaughtered last night that I...”. This tension originates from one enchanted evening where, after several sweet Sherries, one dropped the hand on the other, who immediately recoiled but upon later reflection sorta wishes it would happen again, causing instability in the power dynamic of their relationship that fuels their insecure competitive conversations.

Make-up Lady: Make-up Lady spends the duration of her bus journey deftly applying various ointments, potions and chemical marvels to her visage, and leaves the bus looking about 10 years younger and twice as colourful, with not a smudge to be seen. She has perfected her art over many years, practicing on roller-coasters and the backs of donkeys going up hills until reaching her current level of perfect accuracy. Her routine betrays her personal dissatisfaction with life and a desperate sense of helplessness – her husband is an alcoholic in and out of rehabilitation programmes, while her children have left for Australia and Canada, leaving her with a sense of powerlessness that she struggles to gain some sense of control over through her daily ritual.

The Polish Women: Twenty-something Mjykra and middle-aged sourpuss Kytrvna, though poles apart in age, are Poles united in the face of oppression. Giggling gleefully through their journey, their friendship stretches back through several years of hard graft at the University of Limerick, where they probably work as cleaners. Initially hostile to one another, due to the fact the Mjykra’s mother Slwtrna is from the Vlyvy region and Kytrvna, with her broad shoulders, heterochromatic eyes and wiry hair, was clearly from the rival area of Ytwvsty; the women forged a bond in the heat of terror when Mjykra saved Kytrvna from the advances of their lecherous employer. Blinding him with a blast of Cif to the eyes, then bludgeoning him to death with the handle of a broom, the ladies spent the next few days slowly dissolving his corpse in a wheelie-bin filled with a potent mixture of cleaning products, then dumped the crimson gloop that remained into the Shannon, causing the deaths of dozens of innocent salmon. Regional rivalries fade away quickly when you’ve killed together – the bond between these two women shall last a lifetime.

Denis the Off-Road Forty-something: Forty-something Denis uses public transport out of necessity, having been put off the roads for 3 years following a drink driving incident. Desperate to avoid the shame of anyone finding out, Denis has convinced the neighbours that he walks to work these days in order to keep fit. 

*ends abruptly*

From the Dusty Corners 1

While clearing out the hard drive of my old laptop, I stumbled across some blog posts that never made it, because they were shit, which I know share because what's the use of them gathering digital dust, eh?

This first one was about Glee, but then I realised that Glee is about as relevant any more as the Harlem Shake, so it was abandoned. But now here it is for posterity!

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Glee, the most objectively awful thing on television, has been renewed for a further two seasons. It seems that even though it’s been haemorrhaging viewers this year, it still remains one of Fox’s most profitable shows, probably because of all the iTunes releases, compilation albums and tours. Not to mention that the cast is primarily made up of cookie-cutter Disney Channel cloning-vat rejects who probably aren’t paid all that well. So in the interests of helping Fox out, I’ve come up with some ideas that might help them keep the show afloat even beyond the next two years.

More Kurt

The show needs more storylines based around the life of Blessed Martyr Kurt, patron saint of gay. Indeed, ratings were at their high point when almost every episode revolved around the trials and tribulations of being Kurt. That wasn’t a coincidence, it was clearly because people love watching an unreasonable, self-important, whining ninny prostrate himself for the cause of being the only gay in the village (although just about everyone is gay or bi in Lima these days, but let’s ignore that because Kurt). The show needs more simpering self indulgent mewling from Kurt if it wants to engage viewers for another two years, and reclaim the glory days…

New Reality TV Show Spinoff

We’ve already had one of these. The Glee Project, which ran for two seasons, aimed to extend the show’s brand by searching for new cast members to join the show. Participants had to take part in show-inspired trials such as undermining the agency of people with Down’s Syndrome, finding thinly veiled reasons to get Chord Overstreet shirtless, or delivering a robustly argued theses on which celebrity they’d like to stunt-cast and in what role. At the end of each episode, producer Ryan Murphy delivered a homily paying tribute to the eliminated contestants and trying to pretend he hadn’t made up his mind about who was going to win long before the cameras even started rolling on episode one.

But the Glee Project clearly worked. After all, it gave us such unforgettable characters as Finn 2.0; a transgendered character named “Unique” (no, really) and (someone else). Unfortunately, the Glee Project has now been axed, probably because it was just too wonderful to continue (there can only be so much joy in the world at any one time, otherwise we’d all erupt into spontaneous orgasm and the gears of industry would grind to a sticky halt). But why not replace it with some new reality TV spinoffs that take the brand in new and exciting directions? Perhaps a fly-on-the-wall series following Cory Monteith as he battles addiction and goes through rehab. Called 12 Steps, each episode could conclude with Cory singing a Steps song relevant to his journey to sobriety. Chord Overstreet could lead us through a countdown of America’s 50 Most Ridiculous Names. Or if the idea of creating a new premise for a show is too daunting, why not cross over into existing reality concepts? Santana Lopez could get a kickin’ tat on an episode of Miami Ink. Artie has overcome many challenges as a disabled teen in High School, but how would he fare on the high seas for A Very Special Episode of Deadliest Catch?

More Topical Issues

Glee has already given us its take on hot-button issues like school shootings, weddings that revolve around telling everyone how amazing your gay son is, and teen pregnancy. The show should move on to harder hitting, more intense topical issues to expand its audience. I suggest the show consider doing episodes focusing on the radicalisation of Islamic youth (feat. The songs of Cat Stevens, and the Vengaboys’ Boom Boom Boom), the folly of sexting (see also: excuses to get Chord Overstreet shirtless)

Expand the Characters You Already Have

Tina Chang has been on the show since Season 1. Perhaps in the show’s remaining two years, the writers could explore her character further by allowing her to have more than one line per episode?

*ends abruptly*

X-Factor 2012 Final: Part Two

IT'S TIME! TO EMELI! SANDÉ!

The second night of this extended abortion opens with an autotuned-to-fuck pre-recorded group performance. Not present: Christopher Maloney. This isn’t exactly a surprise, because demons tend to return to hell after an exorcism, after all. Or in this case, get thrown onto a bus back to Liverpool because you got pissed and called a fellow contestant a cunt. Also not present: MK1. Maybe they quit in solidarity with The Camp Orange One. Or maybe they're just too busy keeping it real, or undertaking a quest for Tulisa's urban roots or something. With those crazy cats from MK1, it could literally be ANYTHING. It’s worth noting that this group performance is preceded by a recap of last night’s show. After the group performance, there’s... another recap of last night’s show. And to think, people are accusing the X-Factor of being creatively bankrupt.

Jahmene is up first. The premise of the intro video is, yet again, let’s have the contestant sit down and watch their old performances on a product-placed Samsung tablet. I don't know what I'm getting for Xmas, but I think if anyone gets me a Samsung tablet I'll break into a cold sweat and have a panic attack due to negative associations. Jahmene’s going to sing Angels again, because he felt really special when he sang it for the first time. Also: his mother and stuff. Plus it might purify the venue in case there are any malingering spirits left behind after Maloney’s exit. Wail wail, point skyward, high note, screamy shout, choir, HRNRRRRRRRRRRRRGH: Jahmene’s performance summarised in 10 words.

The Judges all say positive things because it’s the fucking final and they’re hardly going to start telling the truth now, are they?

James Arthur decides that he’ll treat us all to another performance of Let’s Get It On. Typing the words James Arthur and Let’s Get It On in the same sentence makes me throw up a little. If anything, it’s even worse than the first time, because you know what to expect: female dancers cavorting with the swamp beast before he heads over to the judges table and attempts to seduce Nicole and Tulisa. Don’t fall for it girls, he just wants to lead you back to his nest where he’ll lay eggs underneath your eyelids. That’s how whatever species James Arthur is reproduces. There’s the blood-curdling falsetto at the end that signifies James’s orgasm and it's safe to listen again.

Then it’s time for several time-wasting interludes to allow the votes to rack-up. First there’s a recap of everything the judges did this series. Oh look, there’s Mel B being a cunt. Come back next year love, please. There’s Rita Ora, during a rare moment of not having sex with someone who isn’t her boyfriend. And there’s Leona Lewis, watching paint dry and wondering how she can ever be that interesting.  Eventually the Judges recap ends and it’s time for One Direction to return to the fetid womb from whence they emerged. Remember when this show was able to sustain its ratings on its own, and didn’t need to rope in its most popular progeny to give things a boost every two weeks?

Anyway, they’re singing some song that’s probably about being in love with an average girl, and all the ways in which she’s average and if you listen to the lyrics SHE COULD BE YOU! And they’d never pressure you into having sex, because they have an image as non-threatening boyfriends to maintain. SHE COULD BE YOU! IMAGINE SHE’S YOU! BUY BRANDED MERCHANDISE AND IMAGINE THE BOYS LOVING YOU! Upon closer listen, I think this song is actually about how One Direction are totally cool with having sex with you but only if you want to move at your own pace, baby. If you're ready for that, I'll totally pull out and cum on your belly, honest. I should write lyrics for boybands. Look at Liam Payne with his tattoo and shaved head. He’s like the Phil Mitchell of One Direction. Zayn’s microphone stops working because the sound engineers at Manchester Central are awful. Either that or they’ve just been overcome by the sheer talent on display. Niall Horan still hasn’t learned how to sing. Insert joke about Harry Styles and a middle aged woman... here. And that's everyone covered except for Louis. No one gives a fuck about Louis.

Another time-wasting diversion! WILL THIS NEVER END??? Here’s some footage of the finalists at 10 Downing Street to turn on the Xmas Lights. There’s David Cameron, desperately trying to be seen. This is like all those times when Tony Blair was a media whore doing things like appearing on The Simpsons, The Catherine Tate Show, Britain’s Next Top Model and Location, Location, Location. Except Cameron doesn’t have the Blair flair for self-promotion so the best he could manage is this appearance on a much-derided show that’s well past its prime. Must try harder, Dave.

FOR FUCK’S SAKE, MORE FILLER. Here’s reclusive singer-songwriter Emeli Sandé. She doesn’t get out of the house often so you should take a few minutes to rewatch this performance a few times because who knows when the next opportunity to see Emeli Sandé on your television will come. Well actually, I have it on good authority that she’s appearing in a special feature for Tonight with Trevor McDonald about the dangers of celebrity overexposure.  She recorded it in between appearances on Ear to the Ground, where she’ll be dosing some cattle, and Panorama Investigates, where she’ll be looking at the recent Loyalist drama in Belfast.

Believe it or not this thing still isn’t over. At this point I have an IV line pumping pure ethanol into my system. It’s the only way to get through it. Winner’s song time! Jahmene gets to perform the Beatle’s Let It Be, while James Arthur gets to sing Impossible, by Shontelle. Yes, there was a singer named Shontelle. Her second album, magnificently, was named Shontelligence. I sincerely hope that James Arthur’s albums are half as amazingly titled. I think Jahmene sings his song better than James, or it might just seem that way because of the relative difference in quality between a song written by McCartney-Lennon and one written by the team of industry drones responsible for writing songs for someone named fucking Shontelle.

Time for more filler! Here’s Rihanna! Maybe she’s come back because she realised she didn’t take off enough clothes the last time she performed (i.e. just two fucking weeks ago). Remember last year, when Coldplay did an entire set and led thousands of people in a hands-aloft sing-along of some of their most beloved tracks, magic wristbands twinkling in the night? Yeah, this is nothing like that. It’s Rihanna lifelessly doing a ballad and following it up with We Found Love and leaving her clothes on. At no point does any aspect of the performance resemble a live sex show. What a massive disappointment.

It’s finally time to announce the winner. I feel like this final started a lifetime ago. Nations have risen and fallen, babies have been born, and Rita Ora has had sex with seventeen people in the time it's taken to get to this point. So congratulations to James Arthur, the first person who’s ever been in a sing-off to have won the X-Factor, random-trivia fans. Dermot talks to Jahmene, wonders how he’s feeling. Jahmene encourages James to “use this platform wisely” as though winning the X-Factor is some dangerous weapon of mass destruction. Which I guess it is.

Thank you to the five people who read this, I love you all. Well, I love three of you. I can’t stand one and I’m indifferent about another. See you all next year for what will surely be the final series of this fucking travesty of a sham of a mockery of a television show. I anticipate we’ll have a new presenter, Emeli Sandé, and a new judging panel, made up of 4 clones of Emeli Sandé.

Here's another picture of Emeli Sandé to keep you going until you next see her, at 11pm when she presents the weather. (Heavy showers and the chance of some Emeli Sandé)

X-Factor 2012 Final: Part One

IT’S TIME! TO FACE! THE FINAL!

I had to endure a Michael Bublé cover of All I Wannt for Xmas Is You earlier. I described it on Facebook as “soul-crushingly, bowel liquefyingly awful”. However, I realise that it was probably necessary to listen to such horrors to steel myself for the four-hour, two-night finale to the X-Factor 2012. And what a year it’s been for the X-Factor. The producers actually managed to make the audition stages of the show worse by implementing insipid TOWIE-inspired scripted backstage footage that made the previous editorial approach seem raw and uncut. A humanity-hating Melanie B was the only bright spot in a parade of impotent guest judges drafted in to replace Kelly Rowland when Plan B of Dannii’ll-Come-Back-Won’t-She? fell through. Ratings have fallen dramatically, there’s an uninspired judging panel whose only tolerable member is a bat-shit crazy ex-Pussycat Doll, and the finalists are a limp choice of three different shades of blandness. And then there’s the small matter of Christopher Maloney being Satan, of course.

The finale is live from Manchester, and that’s one massive fucking crowd pretending to enjoy Dermot O’Leary’s extended dancing shtick. From there it’s a quick segue onto the finalists, led by Rylan singing Gangnam Style, performing a mash-up of all our favourite performances from the show this year. Look, there’s Union J and District 3 on scooters for some reason! Remember District 3? Remember Jade Ellis? Of course you don’t, me neither! Oh look, it’s the second coming of Epona, the Celtic Goddess of Donkeys, Mules and Horses, in her mortal form as Ella the Baby Pony and Adele Clone. Kye stares disdainfully into the camera with eyes that cry, “Why didn’t you love me, you cancer-riddled testicles?”

We’re introduced to the finalists. Jahmene tells us that he is very excited to be there, while showing all the excitement of a rigid 3-day old corpse. Shrek receives a ridiculously applause-filled reception after he mutters something stupid from his sloth-hole. Chris Maloney says something about his nan, probably.

Nicole introduces her lamb chop Jahmene for his first performance. This being the final, they are of course bringing each of the contestants back home and asking them to bid farewell to their former lives... for 18 months until their albums are on sale in bargain bins and they have to go back with their tails between their legs. Given how deformed he is, I imagine that in James’s case “tail between his legs” probably isn’t a metaphor. Anyway, Jahmene goes back to visit the dungeon he was raised in by his father, Josef Fritzel. “And that’s the spot where he turned a blow torch on you!” squeals Nicole as Jahmene does his “Heh Huh” laugh of emotional deadness. Then it’s back to Asda! Look, there’s Pauline who spits into the bread! There’s Sophie who does the tills, but today she’s on hygiene so she hates the world. If you cross her today, that bitch will cut you. And here’s Jahmene’s church, which represents the part of his life that’s obviously very dear to him but which the cynic in me says the producers have deliberately tried to hide or downplay a wee little bit. Then it’s on to to sing for more people in the centre of Swindon than are actually present in Manchester Central for the actual final.

Song-time, and Jahmene’s predictably tedious screech-fest is Move On Up. Upbeat Jahmene for the final? What a risky endeavour. But don’t worry, it’s still Jahmene by the books – there’s wailing and screeching and notes that could shatter the firmament arranged incompetently and delivered with all the subtlety of a kick to the fanny-flaps.

JUDGES! You’re in the final says Louis. You have so much soul, unlike that demon hell beast Christopher Maloney. You’re the little guy from Asda and you’re like a little Luthor Vandross. If you’re playing the X-Factor drinking game at home, you are now dead. Gary Barlow says some words but no one notices because he’s a boring shit. Tulisa is too busy crying about her massive flop of a debut album to offer any criticism. Nicole shouts a lot of words and exhorts Manchester to show some love. When Chris comes on I hope she encourages them to show their disdain. Then it’s over to Caroline Flack and Pastor Tim for further inane chat. Maybe when Chris transforms into his true form later in the evening Pastor Tim can stage an exorcism and save us all. Assuming that Caroline Flack hasn't slept with him by then and polluted his soul.

Speaking of the Evil One, it’s time for Chris’s intro VT! Just six months ago he was working in a call centre in Liverpool. And in just six months time he’ll be back there! Call Centre is probably a euphemism for Premium Rate Sex Chat. Chris was fired for being too weird. “What are you wearing?” his callers would enquire. “A saucy French beret and THE PULPED FLESH OF MY ENEMIES”, he would respond. Oh look, here’s Baba Yaga herself, Chris’s Nan. And Gary’s there too. Then they all have a nice cup of tea and a sit down and it is literally the most boring thing you have ever seen on television, unless watching a 76 year-old converse about sausage rolls with the lead singer of a 90s boyband is your idea of a good time. Then it’s on to Chris’s performance for the Liverpudlians, and we get to meet some of the fuckers who’ve been voting for him. “Go away with your hip-hop, we want to listen to Chris”, says a scarily deranged looking woman, who is also the only one under 60 at the free gig. "I'm voting for Christopher Maloney because I know his mum and his nan and I know everyone they know because we got to the same bingo”, adds a random pensioner. Is this show even trying to capture a youth audience any more?

Performance time! The staging sees Chris emerging from a massive tape deck. STRAIGHT OUTTA THE 80s, BITCHES. As Chris parades about singing the soundtrack to Flashdance, I can only cower in fear at the knowledge that there’s another 90 minutes of this to sit through. And a whole other 120 minutes for show two! KILL ME NOW. His performance would be much more watchable if it saw him attempt to recreate key scenes from Flashdance, such as sitting in a chair and emptying the contents of a suspended bucket of water all over himself. It’d be even more watchable still if someone replaced the water with sulphuric acid. It’s worth noting that at no point do Chris’s nerves threaten to overwhelm him, despite the fact that he’s singing for 10,000 people. Empirical proof that the X-Factor is both more effective and faster acting at treating anxiety than a course of SSRIs.

MeNan berates Chris for being a loser

JUDGES! I think Louis Walsh is purposely hitting the clichés at this point, as he spouts a series of predictable Louisisms. But either way, DRINK! Nicole completely avoids saying anything about the performance, while Tulisa blows her nose into a Kleenex while muttering "Number...35?". Caroline Flack asks Chris’s nan if she’s delighted at how her evil scheme has come together. She throws her head back, cackles wildly and masturbates with a crucifix while singing, “Come little children, I'll take thee away, Into a land of enchantment”.

James Arthur! Went home to “the North East”. Are we unable to specify exactly where James is from? Is he actually a person in witness protection wearing prosthetics to look that ugly? Awww, James has a nan too! And she isn’t evil like Chris’s one. James and Nicole visit his old bedsit, which is about the size of Nicole’s shoe closet. Girls cry when they see James Arthur as he walks about “the North East”. Possibly because they didn’t think anyone could be that hideous. Then he sings for several thousand people in an undisclosed location while Nicole grabs her crotch and twerks out to the dubstep Adele. Apparently that’s what the kids are into these days.

The performance begins with a horribly contrived opening tracing James from backstage to front-of-house so he can inflict a Bublé-ish interpretation of Feeling Good upon us. Look, it didn’t work when Frankie Cocozza did it and it doesn’t work when someone only marginally less irritating does it. Needless to say, about halfway through, Bublé Feeling Good turns into Poor Man’s Dubstep Feeling Good, and to be honest I’m completely torn on which approach is worse. Maybe they’re just two very different kinds of horrible. Like getting a splinter in your urethra compared with being arse-raped by a broken glass bottle. James gasps and wails and makes nasally sounds and random noises that Thom Yorke would be proud of.

JUDGES! Louis manages to use about 80% of his screentime before making a clichéd remark, which I think is some kind of record. Tulisa says that it’s a matter of patriotism to vote for James, or something. Then she reminds us that The Female Boss is currently on sale at just 1.99. Gary fawns over James and makes it clear he thinks he’s worth about 50 Chris Maloneys. Nicole goes the Louis Walsh route of using the song lyrics/title in her critique but does so to such an extent that she might as well just be reciting the entire songbook.

I didn’t pay attention to the going-into-the-audience part, as I was too busy being emotionally dead following the pure raw talent of James Arthur. If the previous two Caroline Flack: LIVE! Segments were anything to go by, it probably involved talking to either Bishop Desmond Tutu or the reincarnation of Aleister Crowley.

Kelly Clarkson is up now to promote her Greatest Hits album. Kelly Clarkson sings over a montage of black and white highlights from the series. It’s vaguely like that bit at the Oscars where someone wails while all the dead people’s faces flash up on-screen and the audience prepares to care about the ones who weren’t famous actors or directors. Look love, I don’t care how great a boom mic assistant operator you are, you weren’t Liz Taylor. Out of the corner of my eye Kelly looks vaguely like a Pregnant Anna Paquin, so I’m going to pretend I live in a parallel world where Sookie Stackhouse left the vampires of Bon Temps behind to pursue a career in music. This, in turn, reminds me to Google pictures of Ryan Kwanten's arse, which I haven't done in a while.

It’s duets time now. They’re keeping the tradition they started last year of having the contestants perform with their mentors rather than any of the celebrity guests. Which is a pity, because I really would’ve loved to have seen Chris sing What's My Name with Rihanna. This also means that Nicole will be singing twice. I sure hope she’s en pointe tonight. The VT introducing Jahmene and Nic’s duet is all about how nice Nicole is. They’re singing The Greatest Love Of All together, or they would be if someone hadn’t fucked up and forgotten to turn Nicole’s microphone on. Therefore, she has to make a grab for Jahmene’s mic and share it with him, thus ruining whatever outstanding masterpiece  of choreography they had in mind for this limp ballad. Someone’s being fired and/or boiled alive in Chris’s Nan’s cauldron for this.

Next up is Gary and Christopher. They’re singing Take That’s Rule the World, of course. See, as he gets closer to victory, Chris’s ultimate goal is within his grasp, and his desire to conquer all is spilling over into his performances. HE WANTS TO RULE THE WORLD. Imagine a world where Dread Emperor Chris is in charge. Innocent people living under the yoke of 7 foot tall, orange-skinned shock troops, with power ballads as national anthems. Anyone who listens to any song that originates from 1990 onwards immediately sent to the blast furnaces used to manufacture replacement hips for MeNan.

The unholy offspring of James and Nicole

Finally, it's James and Nicole! Which means another VT about how great Nicole is. The moral of the VT is that James loves Nicole, basically. After watching it, I think I’m going to write some fanfic about Nicole and James now. Imagine what strange children they’d have. They perform Make you Feel My Love. Sparks fall from the ceiling and slither about the stage and for a moment I think it’s the rain of fire foretold by Revelation until I remember it’s just shitty pyrotechnics.

While the X-Factor producers fix the results to give them their preferred ending, Rita Ora shows up to perform a song surrounded by burnt out cars. So basically like a post-apocalyptic scene? X-Factor staging guys, you’re seriously making this too easy for me. It’s like you actively want me to recycle me Chris-ageddon jokes. But poor TRita Ora. She had a tough week, as some Kardashian waste-of-space she’d been dating revealed she’d cavorted with 50,000 other men or something. And then implied she’d aborted their child. Frankly, if Rita Ora aborted a Kardashian foetus then I personally think we should be applauding her. The entire episode is yet more evidence for the prosecution in Common Sense vs. Celebrities Using Twitter.

Then it’s Kylie Minogue’s turn to promote a Greatest Hits album. Or an orchestral album. Or whatever the fuck it is. This being Kylie, it is of course the campest orchestra ever, featuring light up fibre-optic cellos that are probably being played by models in speedos or something. If you listen to Kylie’s performance backwards, it’s actually an impassioned plea to bring back Dannii Minogue as the voice of occasional constructive criticism on this show.

RESULTS! Jahmene is safe! James s safe! It’s an all-Nicole final. Chris is devastated and his Nan disowns him on-stage. But the world is safe! And the rest of this blog is safe from end-of-the-world jokes! REJOICE! Jahmene picks up James and spins him around for some reason. Maybe’s he’s drunk. Nicole sure sounds like she’s drunk. Maybe we’re all drunk! I know I am! And that's for the best, because there’s a whole other 2 hour freakshow to get through before I can get my life back. YAY. Fuck my life.

X Factor 2012 Semi Finals

IT’S TIME! To shine bright! LIKE A DIAMOND!

This week’s themes are “Songs for You” and “Songs to Get You to the Final” which even by the X-Factor’s brilliant standards is pretty damn vague. What if Union J decided that the song to get them to the final is a thumping cover version of Smell Yo Dick? James Arthur could choose to perform an arms-aloft, lighters-in-the-air, stripped back guitar-driven acoustic version of Du Hast. Frankly the vagueness of the themes could lead to utter chaos. Anyway, the first half of this exercise in predictable nonsense will be the Song for You, which is dedicated to a special someone in the contestants’ lives. I already know right now that Union J’s song is going to be dedicated to THE GIRLS. Just wait.

Christopher Maloney is up first, ready to batter You Raise Me Up about the face until it no longer resembles anything approaching the song it once was. Needless to say, Chris is dedicating his performance to Me Nan, the evil bitch who’s responsible for dragging Christopher to the auditions and ruining all of our lives. Fuck you, Nan. Nan is a haggard old crone who cavorted with the darkest of magicks in order to summon a juvenile hell demon from beyond the walls of the ninth circle of the underworld. That demon grew up to become the shatterer of worlds, lord of darkness, prince of torment himself, Christopher Maloney.

I’ve been further scrutinising the Book of Revelation and other apocalyptic texts for signs of the forthcoming Chrispocalypse. Did you know that 28 Days Later is actually a documentary from the future? The opening scenes occur just one month after Maloney’s grim victory. Anyway, Chris’s performance is the sort of overwrought shit you’ve come to expect from the emotionally-void ballad queen. He stares earnestly into the camera, doing his best approximation of feelings while secretly plotting where he’s going to build the furnaces he’ll use to burn the corpses of his enemies. Towards the end, a choir appears, and Me Nan descends from the ceiling in full-on angel regalia. Chris catches her and they embrace. He sprouts a pair of fangs as his face contorts into a vampiric nightmare, and proceeds to drain Me Nan of several pints of blood.

JUDGES! All three judges take the if-we-compliment-Chris-maybe-his-fans-will-think-he’s-safe route. I hope it works.

Sexual terrorist Jahmene Douglas is up next. What song could come from his heart? Oh, it’s a song for his dead brother. Great.  How am I meant to make fun of Jahmene when he keeps using his VTs to reflect on what has officially been A Really Shitty Life™? Oh wait, I’m a horrible person, that’s how. So Jahmene is singing I Look to You in Dedication for his brother, who is dead and thus does not exist anymore and thus isn’t aware that Jahmene is singing this song for him. Wasted opportunity, Jamelia. You could’ve dedicated this song to Chris’s Nan instead, thus making the public inexplicably more likely to vote for you. This being Jahmene, the song is so loud that his brother actually returns from the dead, approaches him disinterestedly and says “Give it a rest, mate”. Though actually, as it progresses I have to admit it’s not as loud as usual and somehow less effective for it. Like, normally when Jahmene sings I have to take refuge behind several solid wooden objects to avoid feeling like my bowels are being blasted with an experimental sonic weapon. This week, I just feel like I have two speakers strapped to my ears while a gorilla punches me in the stomach.

JUDGES! Nicole shudders her way through a barrage of questionable tears and gets an Awww from the easily manipulated Awwdience. Seizing her moment, she then enters a state of religious rapture in which she compares Jahmene to a little baby Jesus and decides that his Heavenly Sonic Weapon of Mass Destruction is about the only thing that can stop Chris’s forthcoming rampage. Well, that’s what I took from it anyway. The rest of the judges say nothing, stunned into silence by Nicole’s insanity.

Union J, unfortunately, made it back from the Late Late Toy Show in one piece. Which is a shock, because Poor Man’s Harry Styles looks an awful lot like a troll doll, so I really did think they’d just bundle him up with the rest of the toys and send him to a landfill. That’s what they do after the Toy Show, you know. Ignore all that shite about bits and pieces going to charity, each individual toy is smashed and then set alight by an army of sadistic minions while the font of human misery that is Joe Duffy watches, masturbating furiously. However, I digress. As I said the boys made it back from the Toy Show without being immolated by Joe, which means that we have to endure the Union J intro video. Last week they thought they had done enough to escape the bottom two. But they didn’t! This week they have a massive strop about it and can’t understand why no one likes them. It’s because you’re shit, boys.

Who are they going to sing a song to? THE GIRLS, of course. Well, it’s actually their fans, but we all know that Union J’s fans are THE GIRLS, because that’s what the show has been telling us for the past 9 weeks, and the X-Factor wouldn’t lie. But their song isn’t just for the girls, it’s also relevant to dick-loving nancies like Gaymi because the song they’ve chosen is See Beneath Your Beautiful, a song that was written entirely to piss off people who like proper grammar. It’s a noisy, tuneless mess with overpowering background music and even more Josh than last week. Frankly, I'm sick of Josh. Poor Man’s Harry Styles must’ve really done something horrible to warrant this treatment.

JUDGES! Are too busy doing crossword puzzles to pay the blindest bit of attention to Union J. 

James Arthur would like to make a confession now. He’s had an ulterior motive in being in this competition all along. You see, he isn’t just in it for the music, doing it for the sake of letting the rhythm leave his soul in a cascade of emotion, because that’s just who he is, dammit. No, the other reason he’s on this show is to try and impress a lady. And he’s ready to come right out and dedicate this song directly to the evil witch who cursed him and made him look the way he does. If he can just make her happy once, he’ll turn into a beautiful prince. Or into a less hideous young man. Tonight, he’ll be singing One by U2, which is dedicated to his sisters and brother. They all made something of themselves, while James laboured under the weight of his terrible curse.

Oh look, this week James has decided to perform a tedious guitar driven cover version of a beloved rock song. It’s nice to see him challenge himself. The staging would’ve been a hundred times better if it was performing this song in profile, then halfway through he does a 180 about-turn to reveal the other half of his body is in blackface as Mary J Blige. That would’ve been a major swerve. A wild choir appeared to sing over the horrendous noises emanating from the dark sewer of James Arthur’s face-anus. It doesn't improve things, in much the same way as spraying CK One directly onto an elephant's arse wouldn't make you more likely to put your face in it.

JUDGES! Louis announces that this time next year James will have 5 albums out. So that’ll be the debut album in March, an album of swing covers in May, the difficult second album in July, a compilation of Xmas covers in November, and a Greatest Hits release for Xmas 2013. James Arthur: career sorted. Tulisa thinks the performance was enough to send him through to the final. So hopefully he doesn’t even need to bother with a second song then. Gary describes it as an amazing performance, crying tears of pure jealousy while hammering his desk and shouting out “Why couldn’t I have been your mentor? WHYYYYY?”

And with that we’re on to theme two, Songs to Get You to the Final. Which is even more redundant than the first theme, because when you think about it, isn’t every song they’ve ever sung thus far on the show a song they hope will get them to the final?

Jahmene has chosen to sing At Last, the song from his original audition. I stared at beginning of this paragraph for a few minutes, and I thought to myself “Holy Odin, isn’t Jahmene boring?” I mean, I tried imagining that he was a serial killer, I tried pretending he was being controlled by two alien organisms attached to his eyebrows, and now I have to try pretending he’s the Anti-Chris, the only force on Earth capable of preventing Herr Maloney from walking away with the competition and destroying the human race in the process. But when it comes down to it, Jahmene is just so fucking boring that I find myself forced into writing paragraphs like this, wherein I offer up a slight insight into the frustrating lengths I have to go to in order to make him interesting to me, and conclude by letting you know that it was all for the purpose of getting some words on a page to fool you into thinking that I had actually managed to write something about Jahmene, Lord of Boring.

JUDGES! This time around Nicole managed to avoid speaking in tongues or proclaiming the return of the Messiah. Louis Walsh puts random phrases together from the Louis Walsh soundboard, as he is wont to do.

Chris has decided that the song to get him through to the final is a boring Michael Bublé number. Michael Bublé is a cunt. Just thought I’d mention that. Continuing to mine the vein of rich post-apocalyptic fiction for references to Christopher, how about this one from that most violent, bloody and sexually deviant of tomes, The Bible: On the Lord's day, I heard behind me a great voice, as of a trumpet, Saying, “Me Nerves”; And I turned to see the voice that spake with me. And being turned, I saw seven items from Zara and Topman, adorning his frame as though the mutton were a lamb; His head and his hairs were shorn fine, and his eyes were seemed to peer at me as though from a peculiar staging choice – “People say I’ve lovely eyes” he thundered; his voice as the sound of many waters. And he had in his right hand a microphone held as though ‘t’were a scythe: and out of his mouth went a sharp two-edged sword: and his countenance was as radioactively orange as the sun; And when I saw him victorious, I fell at his feet and cried, for I had put 20 euros on James Arthur to win.

You will notice I’ve said nothing about Chris’s actual performance, preferring instead to rerun a joke from last week’s recap. You’re very observant like that.

JUDGES! Join with the nations of Earth in weeping at Chris’s continued existence.  

Union J. They decide that they’ll spend their second VT promoting Westlife songs, which is a step up from the first VT where they basically said they hate the public for not voting for them. There’s a fake scene from “5 weeks ago” where Louis says he’ll wear a onesie if they make it to semi final. Cue Louis wearing a onesie during their rehearsal and oh, just fucking kill me now. This is the most contrived thing they’ve done this year, which considering how this show can make Tallafornia look like the work of David Attenborough at the best of times, is saying a bit.

JUDGES! Basically tell the boys they’re going home. Except Nicole, who barks random words like shamazing and onesie at Louis Walsh in no discernibly sensible manner. Louis will do whatever you want him to do to get Union J into the final – he’ll wear a onesie, he’ll have sex with a woman, perhaps he might even SHUT THE FUCK UP.

Finally, it’s James Arthur. In his VT he says that the X-Factor saved his life! He doesn’t explain how, though. Maybe he was choking on a piece of chicken a few weeks ago and Nicole performed the Heimlich manoeuvre. James’s song is The Power of Love performed in the style of a spectral mist that clings to the ghostly form of a banshee. It’s one of those James Arthur performances that the judges will no doubt describe as “intense”, and involves a lot of wailing because you convey emotional pain by screaming as though you’ve just been circumcised by a rusty nail.

JUDGES! Gary says that James is so exciting that people will have stopped ironing or washing their dishes to pay attention to that performance. Wow, that’s such a compliment. That’s like telling our wife she’s so pretty you’d consider making love to her right after you’ve finished having a poo. Nicole calls it transcendent. If Nicole is to be believed then every performance tonight involved shattering the walls of reality or otherwise ending up in a state of ascendant ecstasy somehow. I think she’s moved on to opiates.

RESULTS!

There's a group Song with Rod Stewart which basically involves everyone saying “Merry Christmas” over and over again for four minutes. Thankfully, there are no female contestants left in the show for Rod to impregnate. Then Tulisa sings, which is horrifying. At no point does it rain on her, which means she’s nowhere near as good as Rihanna was last week. It’s also nowhere near as entertaining as Kelly Rowland’s manic striptease when she performed on last year’s semi-finals. Tulisa fail.

Pink comes on and sings that boring song that has the video with somewhat disturbing domestic-violence undertones that I try to ignore because the guy in it has an amazing body. Then she eats Dermot O’Leary up and spits him out for being a tool because she’s Pink and she can do that.

Actual Results Time! To absolutely no one’s surprise, Union J go home, setting the stage for an epic battle of good versus evil next week as Jahmene takes on Christopher for the X-Factor 2012 crown while courst jester James Arthur looks on, trying to forget that no one who’s been in the bottom two has ever won the show.

NEXT WEEK: The ultimate battle of good versus evil, featuring Rihanna, Emeli Sande, One Direction, Kylie Minogue, all the previous contestants, James Arthur, laboured apocalypse jokes and the knockdown, end-of-the-world contest between Shake 'n' Fake and Jahmene, the Anti-Chris. It all takes place over two two-hour specials, which basically means that fuck all happens on the Saturday one and then all hell breaks loose on Sunday. You know you have nothing better to do, you pathetic mess.

X Factor Week 8 Recap and Results

It’s time! To face the terrifying prospect of Christopher Maloney singing TWICE. So incomprehensible to my brain is this concept, that my mind left my body last weekend, and travelled non-corporeally to London where, for the good of mankind, I attempted to do battle with Maloney on a psychic level. I hurled numerous telepathic attacks at him over the course of several days, preventing me from completing last week’s recap. Eventually I realised that my battle was pointless. Nothing can sway Chris from his dead-eyed determination to succeed and inflict a unique interpretation of various 70s and 80s compilation albums upon us. His brow is furrowed, his goal is within reach. He’s thrusting his arm out, gesticulating with faux-emotion. He could win the X-Factor. He. Could win. The X-Factor. Repeat that 17 times as a mental exercise in steeling yourself for that eventuality.

I also missed the start of tonight's show because I was still mourning Ella’s death. Oh, you mean she didn’t die? Are you sure? I just assumed, what with the reaction to it all... No? Okay, then. I actually missed the start of this week’s show because I was busy shooting heroin into my eyeball. Chasing the dragon is the only thing that gets me through this nightmare now. Anyway, I missed Rylan’s first performance, but caught up online so really my recap should be seamless, which makes this paragraph completely pointless. You just wasted precious minutes of your life reading this, you pathetic bastard.

Rylan’s up first, singing Mamma Mia. Rylan tells Nicole that she’s the first judge ever to make it to the quarter finals with her entire category intact. Nicole celebrates by tangling herself into some sort of yoga position and making whale noises while flapping her arms. It’s her least erratic contribution to the show tonight. Rylan and the rest of the boys celebrate by putting on a Thanksgiving dinner for her. The sight of James Arthur gingerly fingering an uncooked turkey is something I am not going to forget in a hurry. The performance is typical Rylan: barmy, out of tune and with lots of pouting. However it is notable for perhaps being the first time to date that Rylan murders an entire song without segueing into another one. The staging involves dancers dressed as chess pieces parading around a checkerboard-clad Rylan. It makes absolutely no sense but it’s miles better than Chris Maloney’s eyes boring into your soul.

JUDGES! Louis, shockingly, loved it. He thinks that the performance was just like Xmas day. Clearly some sick shit goes on chez Louis over Xmas, then. Louis doesn’t think Rylan is a joke act, he thinks he could be a massive success in Ibiza and the dance charts. He’s just like a little Tiesto. Tulisa loved the staging, because chess really engages her strategic brain. She does criticise the dancers however, pointing out that if the defending rook had been sacrificed, it would’ve opened up an opportunity to promote the pawn and deliver a devastating material advantage. Gary Barlow says Rylan shouldn’t be in the show at this point and not much else. Nicole wishes she was the gel on Rylan’s hair. I think a want a book of Nicole non-sequitors for Christmas.

In their VT, Union J explain how heartbroken they were last weekend when Ella died. We see footage of a bawling Gaymi collapsing into the manly arms of Chris Maloney. TRAITOR. The VT touches on Gaymi’s decision to come out and the reason for it: Things have gotten desperate for Union J. They’ve been in the bottom two twice now, and the producers have decided that they need all the votes they can get. The girls-love-Union-J angle just wasn’t working as strongly as they hoped, so it’s time to target the secondary market for boybands: the gays. Thus, Gaymi is free. Here’s a collage of things gay people enjoy to celebrate his liberation:

The boys are performing The Winner Takes It All. They croon at some young girls who have no doubt been planted in the audience to subconsciously suggest to other prepubescent females “if you’re not as enthusiastic about Union J as these hired plants are, then your minge will fall off”. The boys bounce around and enthusiastically high-five the random girls. Except Gaymi. He shows casual indifference and couldn’t care less if your minge fell off.

JUDGES! Tulisa commends the boys for their vocals. They were completely... EN POINTE. Can someone just please take her aside and shoot her? Or failing that, just explain to her what en pointe means? The Barlow says that everything about the boys feels right, and mentions someone other than Poor Man’s Harry Styles and Gaymi by name, which I think is actually the first time one of The Nameless Duo’s true names have been spoken aloud on-air. He’s called Josh, apparently. Nicole congratulates Gaymi on being gay, and also mentions Josh by name. I’m not okay with all this Josh-pushing. It’s undermining the comfortable dynamic they’d established with Union J. Things are changing too quickly... Gaymi is gay now, Josh has a name and Poor Man’s Harry Styles hasn’t gotten a look in. Still, at least the other one is still being ignored.

Nicole invites us to share Jahmene’s dream! I'll pass, because I imagine Jahmene’s dreams are a dark and scary place where he keeps all his true feelings about things. There’s no awkward giggles and downward-glancing in Jahmene’s subconscious; it’s all paddles and fleshlights and nipple clamps and things that’d make 50 Shades of Grey seem like Are You There God, It’s Me Margaret. I have to mention Jahmene’s inner darkness because his VT is all about the horrible things his mother has endured and I’m hardly going to joke about that am I? Well, okay, I would. Sufficeth to say that Jahmene is just a little too attached to his mother and it’s all a little Norman Bates. His mother is awesome though. She has gigantic pigtails that look like they're from an anime. This week he’s singing  I Have A Dream. It’s boring and that’s all I have to say about it because watching Jahmene perform is never the most fascinating experience in the world but this week it’s particularly bland.

JUDGES! Louis doesn’t think Abba is Jahmene’s thing. Jahmene agrees enthusiastically and says that whips, suspenders and fuck-harnesses are more his thing. He did however, Louis tells us, sing his heart out. DRINK! Tulisa says it was stripped back. DRINK! Gary, of all people, says that it was en pointe. DRINK AGAIN. Nicole calls him her “lamb chop”. DRINK UNTIL YOUR LIVER BURSTS AND YOU DIE. At least then you’ll escape this ridiculously predictable cliché-fest.

James Arthur, the physical embodiment of Real Music Itself™ mumbles about how tough being in the bottom two last week was, and how sad he is that Ella is dead. We are reminded several times that PEOPLE HAVE TO VOTE. And if you wanted to vote for Ella, vote for James instead because now he wants to win and dedicate it in tribute to the Golden Goddess (of donkeys, mules and horses, in her mortal form as Ella the Baby Pony and Adele Clone) herself. And basically that’s it for James’s VT: vote now, vote often and vote in tribute to Ella. James performs a boring guitar-driven version of SOS with minimal staging, probably because It’s All About The Voice with James and he is so credible and genuine and VOTE FOR REAL MUSIC. It’d be kinda funny if James won actually. He’s the sort of singer who, with decent material, the self-important tastemakers at Radio 1 in the UK would cream themselves over (i.e. mong-faced and has a guitar); but he’s tainted by association with the X-Factor, nemesis of Real Music. Perhaps James is some sort of make-up-wearing messianic figure who can bridge the gap between the two worlds. Maybe he's our saviour... Maybe he's the Anti-Chris.

JUDGES! Louis tells us it would’ve been a tragedy to lose James. He made the song his own. DRINK! He’s already a recording artist. DRINK! At this point, I think I could just write the JUDGES! sections of the recaps a week in advance and arrive at a close approximation of what’s actually said. Nicole rambles incoherently about badgers and goshawks and she’s probably terribly, terribly high or drunk.

It’s Christopher Maloney. I think I can sum up why a victory for Christopher would be such a travesty with the following quotation from Terminator 2: Judgement Day, which at the time we all naively assumed was just a film but in reality was an oracular work of art, accurately predicting the forthcoming apocalypse:
“Three billion human lives ended on December 9th, 2012. The survivors of the nuclear fire called that war The X-Factor Finale. Judgement Day. They lived only to face a new nightmare – the war against Christopher. The computer which thought it could control Christopher, ITV, leaked so much negative publicity in a desperate race against time. Their mission: to destroy Christopher. Stop him winning. They called these press leaks “Terminators”. The first Terminator was programmed to strike at Christopher in the first weeks of the programme, pointing out he was a fake and didn’t have anxiety problems. It failed. The second Terminator was sent to strike at Chris in the latter stages, saying he was a diva, a troublemaker and a cunt. But they failed. They keep failing. People have already lost their lives. Ella is dead. ELLA! She was only 16. The unknown future rolls toward us. December 9th, 2012 keeps coming. Judgement Day is coming. I face it for the first time with a sense of dread, because if a Terminator can no longer change the course of the X-Factor, then maybe there is no hope. Maybe there is only horror. Maybe there is only Christopher. Performing Fernando.”

In Chris’s VT we learn that he had to leave Twitter because people were throwing death threats his way. I call these people the resistance. Also: I just checked Twitter, Christopher’s last Tweet was 4 hours ago. Two songs this week means double the pressure, which means twice the possibility that Chris will literally shit himself on television. Can you hear the drums, Fernando? There are semi-naked people cavorting around Christopher for some reason, which at least means I can manage to look at the screen and only want to gouge out one of my eyes for once. Progress! Maybe I will be able to survive in a world where Chris Maloney has won after all, provided some mostly-naked lithe dancers are nearby at all times.

JUDGES! Nicole thought it was lovely and theatrical, with very good vocals. She says she thought it was a snoozer and the audience applaud confusedly. Clearly Nicole’s madness is infectious. She acknowledges that Chris works very hard. Yes, it isn’t easy being a menace to society. Louis Walsh’s critique is so cringe-inducingly awful that Tulisa has to intervene and bring it to a halt.

It’s Rylan Time. Again. Except it isn’t, it’s Union J. Now I’m confused. They’re performing in a different order the second time around? Or is it that Rylan’s staging is going to be so glorious that it’ll have to precede the ad-break so they’ll have time to dismantle it? Regardless, Union J are up first in the Motown section of the night. There’s another VT, featuring a product placed tablet computer, so down three shots of vodka and smoke a joint if you’re playing the X-Factor Survival Game at home. If Louis Walsh compares someone to a Little Lenny Henry you’re going to have to do a line of coke, mind. For their Motown classic the boys are singing the Jackson 5’s I’ll Be There. Well I say “the boys” but it’s really more like Gaymi and his backing vocalists. A gay man with three straight male bitches. Gaymi’s dreams have really come true.

JUDGES! Gary Barlow says it was nice but not as creative as he would’ve liked. He would’ve preferred it if they performed the song while also doing a complicated trapeze routine. Or maybe if they’d concluded by rubbing jam across their arses like Take That used to do. Nicole says that Gary Barlow doesn’t understand the mind of a little girl. She also loves them because they don’t try to be something they’re not. She couldn’t have said that to Gaymi 2 weeks ago, though. Louis responds to Barlow’s criticism by barking a lot of phrases that don’t make a coherent whole. Par for the course Louis Walsh then.

Nicole Sherzinger cements her position as my favourite hot mess of 2012 by wondering aloud which camera she’s meant to be speaking into, then proceeding to talk to the wrong one, and introducing the wrong contestant. Oh Nicole, don’t ever change. It’s Rylan, by the way, and not James Arthur like Nicole announced. James Arthur is still recovering from his first performance. They’re so emotional and REAL that he needs to sit in a darkened room and contemplate life for half an hour before he can do a second song, otherwise he dies of pure emotional intensity. Nicole and Rylan watch his previous performances on a product placed computer tablet. Woppa Rylan Style! Spicegasm! Yes, Rylan has certainly given us many memorable weeks of incomprehensible madness. I blame Nicole’s influence. She’s channelling her insanity into Rylan to maintain the purity of Jahmene and James.

Rylan is performing a Supremes medley. Ah, I knew he couldn’t do two straight-up performances of complete songs in a row. Rylan murders Baby Love, Stop in the Name of Love, Keep Me Hangin’ On and countless other classics accompanied by female dancers dressed as Japanese schoolgirl Nicki Minajes and topless males. There’s nothing particularly Japanesey about the topless males, they’re just there to add some torso.

JUDGES! Louis points out that it’s week 8. DRINK! Tulisa points out that Rylan is here because people are voting for him. DRINK! Gary Barlow opens a black hole that tears all the fun out of the universe, creating the perfect place for him to live in. Nicole blames her introductory boo-boo on her “mixed-up mind". Drink?

It's time for the actual James Arthur now, who Nicole manages to introduce without setting fire to the studio. Nic and James review his performances to date on a product-placed... you get the picture. These second VTs aren’t actually VTs, they’re just subliminal Samsung adverts. James sings Let’s Get It On and it is every bit as terrifying as you would imagine. Imagine Pinhead singing The Way You Look Tonight. Imagine Freddy Krueger singing Can You Feel the Love Tonight. Imagine Norman Bates singing Angels. Oh, wait, Jahmene did it that in week 6, didn’t he? No need to imagine, then. Disregard! Imagine Hannibal Lector singing the theme tune from Barney and Friends. All are less terrifying than James Arthur asking the viewer to Get It Awwwwwwwwwwwwwn and delivering a horrendous falsetto as the violent coup de grace. I think I need to sterilise my ears after this.

JUDGES! Vocal performance of the night, according to Lulu. Tulisa sys only he could get away with singing that. Louis then proceeds to be cringey again, and is basically acting like Tulisa’s inappropriate slightly effeminate creepy Uncle who thinks he still understands cool. It was sexy, cheeky and all the blind ladies will love it! Gary can’t wait to buy James’s album. Nicole compares James to hot butter melting in our mouths, and I take a well-deserved break to vomit several times.

Everyone’s favourite creepy cherub is back, it’s Jahmene song two! During his turn shilling Samsung products, Nicole emotionally reminds Jahmene that ELLA IS GONE, which means they have to fight for their lives. Jahmene passionlessly explains that he loves Motown and he’s going to go out there and have fun with it. Passionless, dry, predictable fun. This week, Jahmene will be passionlessy, drily and blandly performing Tracks of my Tears. It is passionless, dry and bland. I’m convinced it’s dangerous putting such a boring performance on before Chris. Maloney’s performance, which is presumably going to be as subtle as a sledgehammer to the face as usual, is going to hit viewers like a machete to the forebrain following something as mind-numbingly boring as this song from Jahmene. I actually think some people may die as a result. But I guess there’s always that potential with good old Shake and Fake.

Anyway, back to Jahmene and the JUDGES! Louis says that if Motown were still signing artists today they’d sign Jahmene. He also knows that Jahmene will be in the final, because he’s read Sarah Conor’s journals, and he knows everything that happens in the run up to Judgement Day. Louis continues haranguing Tulisa throughout her critique. Luckily, she doesn’t have anything of import to say. Quel surprise. Nicole brings a donkey on-stage and proceeds to ride around on it, reciting lines from the Mad Hatter’s tea party backwards.

To close the show, and bring the entire planet closer to the precipice of destruction, it’s Christopher Maloney. Did you know that the Book of Revelation itself prophesied this performance?
“And I saw another mighty angel come down from heaven, clothed in the style of the young, for the Evil Fashion Nazis hath raided the nearest Topman for all their wardrobe needs: and a rainbow was upon his head, for the multi-coloured lighting of the X-Factor studios were a shambles, and his face was as it were the sun – incandescent orange, like someone had dipped him in a sea of the tan as false as his proclamations to the camera; his feet were all ashook, for he pretended to panic, and he set his right foot upon the stage and he proceeded to sing Dancing on the Ceiling by Lionel Ritchie, for he felt the laws of physics could not bind him, for he was not of man, he was the Antichrist, the Dragon, the Beast and the Adversary. Beelzebub, Huitzilopoctli,Lucifer, Maloney.”

JUDGES! Blood streams from their eyes and they cry out in abject terror, clawing at their faces and screaming for hallucinogens and antidepressants, anything to take the edge from the trauma they have just endured. Nicole, in her most on-the-button critique to date, says she looks at Chris and doesn’t see much soul. THAT’S BECAUSE HE’S THE DEVIL.

RESULTS SHOW!

Group Song: The Topman Winter catalogue, plus its grandfather Christopher, sing Coldplay’s Viva La Vida.

Our special guest performers tonight are Bruno Mars and Rihanna. Right, we’ve had Bruno and Princess Ri-Ri, all we need now is Michael Bublé and our guest-star checklist will be complete. Bruno Mars shows up and sings something that sounds uncannily like Sting’s Message in a Bottle. Rihanna, who is less a person these days and more a performing automaton designed by committee, performs Diamonds. which feels like it’s been out forever at this point. I’m pleasantly surprised by the performance, which is incredibly restrained for Rihanna. By restrained I mean that she isn’t parading around in her knickers trying to fuck the camera. I wouldn’t stoop to buying her album, but when she eventually releases a Greatest Hits compilation it’ll be a pretty damn good one.

Oh, and now that we’ve had our annual Rihanna appearance, it seems like the right time to make my annual Chris Brown statement: Chris Brown is a cunt who hits women and we should never forget that, even if Rihanna has.

The bottom two are Rylan and Union J, which means Chris Maloney is safe and the march towards the plains of Armageddon continues. I’m just going to assume that Chris’s nan has taken out a small loan and employed a team of immigrants to ring his number repeatedly. Rylan knows that he’s gone and doesn’t seem fussed about it. He performs Athlete’s Wires and it’s actually not terrible. He gives Gary Barlow a kiss on the cheek and resigns himself to his fate. Gaymi and Josh sing Snow Patrol’s Run while the other two shuffle uselessly around.

JUDGES! Nicole saves Rylan. Louis lauds Rylan on being A Genuinely Nice Guy™ (which to be fair, judging by how much people always seemed to like him, appears to be entirely true), but saves his own act. Gary compliments Rylan on his best vocal performance of the series and bids him farewell. Tulisa also chooses to send him home. Rylan thanks everyone for sending him home because it means he’s free to leave the X-Factor compound and abscond to a desert somewhere in South America in the hopes that he’ll survive the upcoming Chrispocalypse. Two weeks to the final people. Hold your loved ones close.

X Factor Week 6 Recap and Results

It’s time! To institute a theme which we barely adhere to because it is so vague in its requirements anyway, but we won’t let that stop us from acting like we’re taking it seriously when we mention it in our critiques when it suits us to do so! This week’s theme is the Best of British, which means the contestants get to sing any song by anyone who has ever breathed the same air as British person.

Dermot introduces the judges. He asks innuendo-prone Nicole Scherzinger to behave herself this week. Which of course leads to several innuendos. Fun-hater Gary Barlow tries to set a record for the shortest amount of time between start of show and his attempts to take all the joy out of it by having a pop at Dermot for brining up the fact Chris seems to be widely disliked YET IS STILL IN THE COMPETITION.

Speaking of the cunt-rotting toe-sucker himself, he’s actually up first. In his VT, Chris whines about the fact that some people booed him last week. Why would anyone try to upset me, he wonders obliviously. Could it be the fact that you’re a transparent faker with the most punchable face on television, you colon infidel? Chris explains that people shouldn’t boo him because ME NERVES could cause him to spray the back of his trousers with a nervous brown watery foam AT ANY TIME. With only one contestant left in the running, Gary now has plenty of time to focus on perfecting Chris, and he spends much of the VT berating him for the various crooner-y habits he exhibits every time he opens his mouth. I think I’d last about 5 minutes in Gary’s position before I’d be forced to pick up the nearest blunt instrument and bash in Chris’s face. Chris studies his performances on a product placed tablet computer. For anyone who has product placed Samsung on their X-Factor bingo card, make sure to give yourself a bonus point for the fact it took them less than 15 minutes for the show to try and subliminally sell something to us.

Once we’ve finally gotten all the shilling out of the way, it’s time for Chris to perform Elton John’s I’m Still Standing. I’ve come to the conclusion that Chris is actually the human embodiment of a Best of the 80s CD. His performances are so consistently dated that you’d almost swear that Louis Walsh was his mentor. This week they’ve spiced up his routine and reflected the more-upbeat nature of the song by filling the stage around him with women dressed like power ranger villains and convincing him to scrunch his shoulders up and down occasionally in an approximation of the concept of rhythm. I think this is one of those performances where the phrase “the song was too big for you” might be warranted. At times he’s very shouty and it looks like he’s trying to eat the microphone. He also looks completely gormless throughout. Gormless and shouty. From here on I shall describe Chris's style of singing as gormshouting.

JUDGES! Nicole calls Chris her sweetpea. Maybe that’s an insult on the planet that Nicole comes from. She likes his new confidence but ultimately thinks Chris is a karaoke king who won’t break boundaries with music. Louis repeats exactly what he said last week. Tulisa says she’s getting bored saying the same things about Chris- i.e. that he’s a smeg-licking fart pirate. Gary tries to make us all think Chris is much better than he actually is by using technical terms like syncopation. “THANK YOU FOR VOTING FOR ME” Chris gormshouts to his loving audience of grannies and the retarded.

Jahmene is up next. Last week, the judges loved Jahmene but he thought his performance was bad. This is such a shock that even the disembodied voice behind the camera that asks the contestants questions for their VT is heard to express her horror. We learn that Jahmene always focuses on the negative and doesn’t believe in himself. He's a big negative nancy who struggles with his confidence, just like Chris! Except unlike with Chris, you can easily tell that with Jahmene it’s actually true. In a bid to help Jahmene, Nicole phones her good friend Jennifer Hudson who tells him to pull himself together because he might’ve been through some hard shit but she’s been through WORSE, as demonstrated in the updated Graph of Pain below. This week, Jahmene will be performing Angels, that song from when Robbie Williams was actually of relevance to music rather than just a lunatic who shows up on TV shows and meanders aimlessly around the stage like an Alzheimer’s patient who escaped the nursing home. The performance begins a capella, but this being the X-Factor, I know they’re not going to be able to avoid dramatically over-selling the “emotion” of this performance by remaining a capella for very long. Sure enough, Jahmene is soon joined by a choir of thousands, and overwrought music to see him through to the melismatic finale. It’s the usual Jahmene mix of competence, thundering vocals and unnecessary oversinging.

JUDGES! Louis reminds us that Jahmene is ONLY 20 YERS OLD! Jahemene stole your bit, Ella! Tulisa tells him that he needs to continue self flagellating because his insecurity helps him grow as an artist or something. Nicole says that Jahmene moves her and stirs her. The audience reacts to her choice of words like a pensioner to a Carry On film. Oooh, saucy! Nicole is momentarily confused that the audience have usurped her position as chief sexualiser of innocent words.

District 3 are up next. In their VT, they realise that the last 2 weeks of comments they’ve gotten haven’t been great, which leads to a clip of last week’s “No Baby No” moment. They’re really confused too, one week they’re told that they’re not giving enough, then the next they’re told they’re giving too much. It’s not that confusing boys, you see there’s this wonderful place called the middle ground between boring and ridiculously backflippingly over the top. They’ve realised, while looking at their original performances on a product placed tablet computer (mark your bingo cards!) that they need to STRIP IT DOWN and get back to basics. I'm highlighting this week's key phrase for you. We'll be seeing it again. In a scene that is completely spontaneous and in no way scripted at all, the boys demonstrate several songs to Louis that they’ve been thinking of performing. Following a ridiculous montage of D3 and Louis “working hard” and trying out various songs, they ultimately decide on Eric Clapton’s Tears in Heaven. The performance itself is so boring that I almost nodded off. I had to Google “District 3 abs” just to keep myself awake. There’s one of the pictures I found below, which like the one from a few weeks ago again shows the blonde one looking over-enthused about the other guy’s abs. I’ve just realised how boring District 3 are: it’s 6 weeks in to the competition, Ella has about 18 nicknames at this point and Chris inspires me to depths of hate-filled swearing I didn’t even know I had in me. Yet I’m still referring to District 3’s members as “the blonde one”, “the one with the abs” and “the one with the slack-jawed expression of mild retardation”.

JUDGES! Tulisa congratulates Louis and the band on their song choice, and gives Lulu a pat on the back for STRIPPING THEM DOWN. I’m sure Louis had absolutely no problem doing that. Gary feels there’s something dated about them and suggests that in the battle of the boybands that Union J have the edge.

At this point, Dermot reminds us that inexplicably popular international superstars One Direction are appearing on tonight’s show. I should mention that Dermot’s been going on about One Direction’s appearance since the show started, never explaining at which point in the show they’ll appear. That’s right, ratings have gotten so bad we’re now holding an appearance by One Direction hostage in order to get their fans to watch as much of the show as possible. Also, I can’t help but wonder what’ll happen when Harry Styles and Poor Man’s Harry Styles occupy the same space? Will the world end? Will they have to fight to the death? Will Caroline Flack become noticeably aroused?

Adella, the last remaining girl and artist formerly known as  Epona, the Celtic Goddess of Donkeys, Mules and Horses, in her mortal form as Ella the Baby Pony and Adele Clone is the last girl you know, which appears to be the new refrain that’s replaced variations of SHE’S SIXTEEN in the show’s narrative. To reinforce Adella’s new title, here’s some Kardashians (i.e. the most useless people on the planet, who Ella is probably more famous than at this point, at least in the UK) to bleat on about it for some reason. Look, I love low-culture as much as the next person, but even I have no idea what the Kardashians are famous for. As near as I can tell from 4 minutes of cursory research, one of them has a massive arse and another was married to someone for a few weeks. They have such soulless, dead eyes, it's actually unnerving. It’s like there’s nothing at all going on inside the head of the one called “Khloe” as she lifelessly says “Girl Power” to the camera. I fear someone found that machine Disney were using years ago to pop out soulless moppets to populate things like High School Musical and appropriated it to produce useless, vacuous non-entity pseudo-celebrities. Can we not return to the era where people were famous for doing things like sticking a bottle of wine up their cooch on Big Brother, or being recorded having a ride with Shannon Doherty’s husband?

Following her meeting with the Kardashians, which was no doubt a massive inspiration and a moment that will stick with her forever as one of the most incredible things that ever happened to her, Adella returned to the studio where she decided she’d perform Written in the Stars by Tinie Tempah. Truly, I’m sure you’ll agree, the best of British. Needless to say, Ella has STRIPPED IT DOWN and turned it into a ballad. It doesn’t seem like she’s going to let go of the oversinging any time soon, alas. She’s as bad as Jahmene for adding multiple syllables to single vowels. For example, in Adella’s vocal landscape, the word “way” is now pronounced "wayheeeeeayyyyyyeeeeeeehaaaaayaaaaaayyyy-hey-hey". Stop it Ella, I used to like you. “UAAARRRRGHURRLLLLLAAAAARGHURLA URLA ULRAAAARRRRGH”, she responds.Maybe next week she'll perform a stripped down version of the noises the zombies make on Walking Dead.

JUDGES! Gary says that he’s only written one word down in his notes on Adella’s performance: “cuntbiscuit”. Well, actually it’s “wow”. Or maybe it’s “mom” upside-down. Who knows? Nicole calls her sweetpea, which she also called Chris earlier so if I was Adella I’d be terribly offended. Nicole then proceeds to give her some technical advice that the audience doesn’t know how to react to. Just in case we hadn’t copped on to it, Dermot reminds us that Ella is the last of the girls.

RYLAN NATION. Rylan is surprised to still be in competition after 6 weeks.And even more surprised to have survived the bottom two last week. The moment he knew what the theme was, he knew he wanted to do the Spice Girls. Rylan explains that he has been the “most ultimate fan of the Spice Girls since I was a 6 year old girl.” When he’d pretend to be Spice Girls with his friends, he was always Geri. This is the cue for actual Geri Haliwell to show up, of course. Rylan has a typical Rylan-reaction and enters a state of near-hysteria, while Geri Haliwell is just thrilled that in 2012 she actually still has a single fan. In fact, she’s not even being paid for this appearance. She just hangs around media buildings in London hoping to overhear someone talk about her. It took three hand shandies and a blowjob to get her past security and into this VT, but dammit, she’d do it all again if it means being on TV for 30 seconds.I shall call this performance the Demented Spice Medley. It is absolutely the most amazing thing I have ever seen on TV; a thing of more complexity than The Wire, more emotionally powerful than that episode of The Soprano’s where they killed Adriana, and more visually sumptuous than a Game of Thrones marathon. At one random point, the camera focuses on Nicole and Tulisa as they gyrate around stony-faced fun-vacuum Gary Barlow. I lose track of how many songs Rylan sings as part of this medley, but I’m sure it’s enough to mean he has now performed more songs than any contestant ever. By "sings" I do mean randomly barking lines from the choruses while topless dancers with the glitter-painted Union Jacks on their torsos dance gayfully all around him. Rylan Clark: living the dream.  

JUDGES! No surprise, Louis Walsh loved it. Tulisa says it was just like the Closing Ceremony of the Olympics all over again and it’s for performances like this that she saved Rylan last week. Gary purposely tried to manufacture a kiss of death by admitting it was entertaining (but that Rylan can’t sing). Nicole says something about spraying love all over the stage before Dermot quickly moves us along.

Union J. Louis says he saw something brilliant last week, a vision of what Union J could be: naked and slathered in baby oil and sprawled across his bed. In other news, when the boys sat down to think about what Best of British meant to them, they immediately knew (i.e. X-Factor producers told them) that they wanted to pay tribute to the Armed Forces. But it isn’t just an asinine attempt to tug on the nation’s sense of pride in its its soldiers on the weekend of Remembrance Sunday, the members of Union J actually have legitimate connections to the Armed Forces! For example, The "Funny" One’s dad used to be a solder,Poor Man’s Harry Styles’s brother is a marine, and Gaymi gets a nice solid erection whenever he sees a man in uniform. The Other One just sits there silently hoping that no one discovers he took part in anti-Iraq war protests. If you thought Rylan’s song was an indication that things were going to take a turn for the upbeat, then you were wrong, because we’ve returned to STRIPPING IT BACK. Specifically, we’re going to strip back Coldplay’s Fix You. It’s hardly a song that was adorned with many bells and whistles in the first place, so what exactly are they going to strip back? Oh, I see, the challenging vocals and the parts where anyone other than Gaymi might song. It’s basically Gaymi and 3 guys on backing vocals doing a terribly bland cover version.

JUDGES! Tulisa says Louis is on a roll with his song choices. And that Union J have found their market (girls who want to date gay guys and girls who aren't menopausal enough to attract Harry Styles) and are appealing to them. Fix You is one of Gary Barlow’s favourite songs, apparently. Nicole lauds Gaymi on his “delicacy”.

ONE DIRECTION ARE COMING UP SOON HONEST  DON’T FORGET ONE DIRECTION PLEASE KEEP WATCHING.

BEN MITCHELL. Last weekend was amazing because James sang the most boring version of Don’t Speak ever. His VT goes the Jahmene route – he just doesn’t know how to respond to compliments but quietly celebrates in private like a dignified real musician. James didn’t know what to sing for this week’s theme because obviously he listens to a lot of real, credible music like the Rolling Stones and... Stereophonics? Oh James, really?. Anyhow, James eventually decided that he would sing Adele’s Hometown Glory, a song I will forever associate with Cassie running off to New York and having a breakdown in Skins. Can you usurp Cassie, James? I think not. Anyway, the really nice thing about this song is its simplicity, so when the drum machine kicks in 2/3s of the way in and it turns into Mildly Dubstep Glory you know that they’ve completely lost track of precisely what it is that makes this song work. But who cares because James doesn't look like a typical pop-star and has panic attacks on stage so he's SO REAL IT HURTS.

JUDGES! Louis explains how the competition works for some reason. Tulisa talks about watching this show two years ago and hoping for an artist like James. This just proves she wasn’t really watching the show 2 years ago, because Matt Cardle won in 2010 and James Arthur is basically an uglier version of Matt Cardle. Judges also confirm it was the first appearance of dubstep on the X-Factor. Which is kinda like saying that James’s rap last week was the first appearance of rapcore turntablism. I’m not counting this as dubstep. It isn’t dubstep until Chris Maloney attempts a cover of Skrillex, dammit.

I am not blogging about One Direction. Sufficeth to say that having Real Harry Styles and Poor Man’s Harry Styles in the same building did not results in a massive explosion that destroyed ITV and killed all the contestants. Alas.

RESULTS SHOW!

I remember to watch this awful show 5 minutes after it starts. The contestants are halfway through Beautiful Day. IS IT, CONTESTANTS? IS IT REALLY? For a moment I think One Direction have joined them on-stage, but it’s actually just Poor Man’s Harry Styles gurning like an idiot.

LITTLE MIX. OH JESY I HAVE MISSED YOU SO MUCH.  The performance is a bit of a mess but who cares, it’s just so nice to have Pick ‘n’ Mix back in my life. Even if she’s 8/9’s of the woman she once was. I also missed Mixed Up’s evil little vole face. Can’t say as I care about seeing the other two again though. Tulisa says that her little muffins were entirely EN POINTE. It’s like she’s speaking some other language altogether. FIVE MINUTE WARNING before Ed Sheeran shows up. Forget about Harry Styles potentially threatening the stability of reality – having both Ed Sheeran and James Arthur in the same venue might cause a credibility nexus that will destroy all fakers in the vicinity. Watch out, Chris.

So Ed Sheeran comes on and it’s basically a repeat of yesterday’s One Direction performance, which isn’t a surprise given he wrote their song and all that. During his introductory video, I can’t help but notice from the clips of Sheeran’s own music videos that the only thing they all seem to have in common is that they don’t tend to focus much on Ed Sheeran. Up to and including Ron Weasley taking his place. I mean, he ain’t a looker or anything, but OH HE JUST SAID JAMES ARTHUR IS HIS FAVOURITE – Fuck you Sheeran, there’s now way I can continue defending you now. You ginger paedobadger.

Actual results time, and it’s District 3 and Union J in the bottom 2. Louis Walsh looks like he’s going to wet himself when Dermot goes to him first. He refuses to send either act home, arguing that asking a gay man to choose between two groups of lithe young men is like asking Pick ‘n’ Mix to choose between a ton of Snickers or a ton of Kit Kat. It’s just an impossible decision to make. Dermot reminds us that X FACTOR PRECEDENT dictates we now rely on majority vote from the other three. We have Cheryl Cole to thank for that one. Gary and Nicole opt to save Union J it’s curtains for District 3 even without Tulisa’s vote. SO long boys, don’t let the proper pronounciation of words in UK English hit you across the back of the heads while shouting at you for your ridiculous American singing accents on the way out.