The X-Factor 2011: Week 3

 It’s Saturday. It’s 8pm. You know what that means? Yes, it’s time. To disgrace. The concept of Rock Music.

Additionally, it is also time for Voiceover Man to do a relentless recap of last week’s “drama”.  There was a massive shock when hot-favourite super-talent and all-round likeable moppet Frankie, who you might know from that new film Cantagion, ended up in the bottom two! None of that is true, except for the bit about the bottom two. And maybe the part about Contagion. Dermot O’Leary seduces his way on stage and introduces the judges: puddin-lover K-Row; puddin it on the down-low Louis Walsh; puddin it whatever way Simon Cowell tells him to, it’s Gary Barlow; and Tulisa.  GET READY TO ROCK, Voiceover Man enthuses. I am on the very edge of my seat with not caring.

Marcus Collins is up first. I wonder will his vote collapse from being in the sacrificial slot. His intro video is a bit boo-hoo though, so maybe that’ll save him. Plus he’s a cutie pie. Breast cancer! Loneliness! No money for the bus! Homosexuality! Jesus, the Marcus Collins Story has it all. Coming this winter on Sky UK Living TV Gold. There’s a whiff of a last minute change about this intro-video actually. It seems like it’d be more suited to the postponed Heroes-week theme they decided to abandon because the producers thought Rock Week would be a better idea to save Chosen One Frankie.  Anyway, Marcus sings Lenny Kravitz’s Are You Gonna Go My Way and it’s alright. He’s only ever alright, really. He’s competent but he never seems to go beyond that. Judges! “You stand. You smile.” Louis Walsh is as insightful as ever. 

Second act of the night is wee Janet Devlin from Tyrone in horrible Ireland. Please vote for her so she never has to go back to horrible Ireland where no one is ever happy. People think she’s a witch because of her bright red hair, you know. They‘d throw potatoes at her except the Irish need to hold on to them in case there’s another famine during this time of austerity. Janet’s intro video is Janet versus the press. Basically they’re trying to make her seem like less of a wallflower and it isn’t working because I refuse to believe that tabloid journalists, the scum of the earth, are as tame as this. Either that or they fed them all Valium before the interview. Janet is singing Sweet Child of Mine. After we found out that Janet is a bit of a goth last week, I was expecting Actual Rock from this performance. Instead, we get a harp. Just like all those famous rock songs with the harps in them. Like AC/DCs You Harped For Me All Night Long, Nirvana’s Smells Like Teen Harpist, or Pink Floyd’s Another Harp In The Wall. Needless to say, the song has been stripped back to appropriate Janet levels and turned into a ballad. It’s inoffensive but not particularly interesting and Janet’s schtick might get a bit boring soon. That said, she seems sweet so I can’t hate her too much. Judges! Tulisa chastises Janet for not rocking out and points to the X-Factor Rulebook, Section 4, which states that what Janet did was not a rock song, but a rock song turned into a ballad. Tulisa forgets about Section 4 Subsection 1, which states that only an idiot takes an X-Factor theme seriously.

A horse is a horse, of course, of course. Except when that horse, is Sami. Sami’s intro video basically spoils that she’s going to be doing a Cher song, because her mentor is Louis and he’s a big fucking queen. Sami comes on-stage and oh dear, the fashion Nazis of the Style Team™ have struck again. Sami is wearing leather and her stomach unfortunately looks like a tarpaulin stretched over two tyres. Tonight she’s singing If I Could Turn Back Time (I’d Wear a Poncho). Part-way through, the camera switches to Louis and he’s singing along and loving it, the queerball. Judges! Tulisa admits it’s a karaoke song but that Sami did it well. Kelly says she sounded fantastic and asks her if she had a great time, for some reason. Gary Barlow decides he hasn’t channelled enough Cowell and launches into a massive spiel about how boring it was that sort of goes a bit too far. Also, it’s a bit rich to have Barlow going on about performers being real when he chose fucking Frankie. Dermot speaks to Sami who desperately implores viewers to vote for her despite the recession. No, she actually does that. I think I’ll get a t-shirt printed that says SPARE A POUND AND VOTE SAMI. Sami whinnies and canters off-stage.

Up next is Rhythmic Kandy Girl-Lash. As is typical with a group at this stage of the competition, their intro video has now become all about giving them easy to identify roles so that the public can point to one and say “Ah, she’s the sassy one!” or “Ah, she’s the crazy one!”. It’s 90 seconds of pure fakery that actually includes scenes of the girls saying “Rock it!” and head-banging. They’re so genuinely fun, I wish I lived with them. I definitely wouldn't kill them. They’re performing that famous lighters-in-the-air rock anthem Tik Tok. Yes, that Tik Tok. The one by Kesha. Just when my ears were adjusting, it all takes a Cher Lloyd style diversion into that other great rock song, Salt n’Pepa’s Push It. No amount of dancers body-popping on-stage can distract from the fact that it’s a pile of shite. Judges! Kelly says she wants the girls to be better than the last girl group that was here. LAY OFF OF 2 SHOES YOU BITCH. Gary and Louis lay into Tulisa for giving them a pop song. Tulisa says they took a pop song and made it rock and then all the judges kick off on one and start shouting over one another and it’s all terribly awkward and just like when mum and dad fight. Hold me.

Biscuitman is up next and he’s... what? I forgot someone? Sophie? Sophie who? Oh. Apparently someone called Sophie was up after Rhythmic Kandy Girl-Lash and performed a stripped back non-rock version of Livin’ on a Prayer. I vaguely remember an intro-video in which someone was upset at being boring, so she decided to talk to the same bunch of Tamest Tabloid Journalists In The World that Janet faced down. Except the most interesting thing they could find to say about her was “What a nice girl.” Sophie, infuriated, decided to become more interesting by killing the journalists. Alas, her scheme was over before it began as she had already bored them to death. The quest to be noticed continues.

So, Big Gay Biscuitman. This week, he tells us, he’s going to be singing a man song. Fancy that. Craig is wearing a leather jacket that barely fits him. I should mention that he’s not the only one who has worn leather tonight. In fact most of the contestants have, because to the X-Factor producers, leather = Rock. The same sort of maths that gives us Harp = Rock, really. Luckily, Sami eats three whole cows a day, so there was plenty of hide to go around to clothe all of the contestants. Craig begins his man song, Oasis’ Stop Crying Your Heart Out, and is immediately intimidating and simultaneously camp as tits. I don’t know how he does it. Maybe it’s the leather jacket. He snarls. He scrunches his face up. He sings the song as a ballad. He looks weird and vaguely scary. It’s Biscuitman by numbers. Rock week is turning out to be pretty fucking boring this year. Judges! Gary Barlow voids his bowels because his rectum is so bored of being attached to Gary Barlow.

Kitty is up next, and if anyone can save us from the tedium, it’s her. Her intro-video is only 90 seconds long and it’s easily the most interesting part of the show so far. It charts Kitty’s obsession with fame from the girlbands she was a member of until she slept with everyone else’s boyfriends and killed all the other members for not beng as amazing as she is to her theatre work and her thousands upon thousands of self-promotional Youtube videos. There’s even footage of Louis rejecting some of Kitty’s ideas for her performances such as swan-diving from the roof into a pot of molten gold. Kitty is singing Live and Let Die. There are jets of fire, high notes and genuine head-banging and hair-whippin’. Eat that, Sophie Habibas. Tulisa says it was actual rock. She is right. She lauds Kitty for being such a good performer and says some rubbish about her being a good person. Let’s not get too carried away, Tulisa, Kitty would still sell you into a sex-trafficking ring if she thought it would help her make an album. We’re now more than halfway through the show and Kelly Rowland has not once talked about puddin’ it dahn. I think she used up her entire pudding quota last week. Either that or she’s working on a new, even more exciting catchphrase. I can’t wait.

And now, it’s Frankie. The intro-video is... well, where to start. It’s a fucking mess. They’ve decided that whole cheeky chappie thing wasn’t working, so they’re reinventing Frankie as the next nearest archetype; the likeable bad boy. To this end, the video is all about how Frankie spent all week drinking shots and luvin’ it and pulling “birds” and not listening to Gary. He’s so young, he just wants to have fun and not listen to that old coot Gazza! He’s such a rebel! It’s absolutely the most contrived thing we’ve ever seen on this show in eight years and that is saying an awful lot. I guess it’s a different tactic to having Danyl Johnson or Katie Waissell shave their heads to show how they’ve been humbled and it’s time for a new start. Then again, if Frankie’s in the bottom two again tomorrow I wouldn’t bet against them doing that... Frankie’s performance continues the fakery with monochrome shots of him making his way from backstage as though he was some sort of rock legend. Eventually he swaggers on-stage to sing Primal Scream’s Get Your Rocks Off. They’ve turned the background music up to 11, to drown Frankie’s strangled-cat vocals out. He seems to have toned down the over-enunciation a little bit, or it could just be that his vocal cords are slowly rotting away as a consequence of being attached to such a toxic individual. JUDGES! Louis says he did the right thing in saving Frankie last week. Gary has an important announcement to make. He says he was lying last week when he said Frankie’s vocals were good. I take 5 minutes out to come to terms with this, while Gary goes on to explain that this week, he’s not lying and Frankie was everything he wanted him to be. You wanted him to be a hateable wanker? Mission accomplished.

Following that shit-storm is The Risk. As with Rhythmic Kandy Girl-Lash’s Intro video, this one is all about creating personas for the members. So there’s Charlie the rat-faced lead-singer; the cute one, the other one, and the black one. The video focuses on The Black One, to flesh him out as more than just The Black One but also as The Black One Who Is a Ladies Man. We’re shown footage of the boys on a night out; The Black Ladies Man is pleased when a girl gives him her number. I know, a young woman giving a z-list celebrity her phone number. What a shocker. We see The Risk in rehearsal, where they’re shit, which segues nicely into the performance, where they’re also shit. They sing Gnarls Barkley’s Crazy. It’s actually better than when Cee-Lo from Gnarls Barkley was on the results show the other night, but that’s because he basically vomited up his lungs on-stage. The judges chastise Tulisa again for taking a pop song and making it rock. Louis, in a moment that is absolutely not scripted, prompts the boys to reveal that one of them has AIDS in his tonsils, or something.

Brace yourselves for Johnny Robinson. Johnny had intended singing a ballad tonight in order to impress his boyfriend Gary Barlow, but then the producers changed the theme to Rock at the last minute to help Frankie, so that scuppered Johnny’s plans. Instead of My Heart Will Go On, he’ll be singing I Believe in a Thing Called Love. Given how completely not seriously the other judges have been taking the requirements of the theme, I’m pretty sure that Johnny could’ve gotten away with singing a I Believe in a Thing Called Love accompanied by a harpist. Or My Heart Will Go On with a 2-second guitar riff at the start. It is both ludicrous and brilliant at the same time. I think I genuinely like Johnny, if only because he makes Gary Barlow seem even more ridiculous every week. Judges! Kelly says that Johnny is her guilty pleasure. Barlow says he rather liked it, trying to emulate those moments where Cowell would cut the joke contestant some slack. Johnny gets the biggest reception of the night. Backstage, Kitty Brucknell strangles a puppy in disgust.

Ad breaks! Did you know, that Pampers are giving out tetanus injections to babies in third-world countires for every pack of environment-destroying shit-rags you buy? That’s right, every time you don’t buy Pampers, you are killing babies. You fucking monster.

Back to the X-Factuh, and Misha Barton is closing the show with Prince’s Purple Rain. She’s rocking a whole Tina Turner by way of Thunderdome look tonight. It’s a good performance but not particularly memorable. Or maybe that’s because Ruth Lorenzo will always be my favourite Purple Rainer. NEVER FORGET! What is memorable however, is the huge kerfuffle that erupts between the judges when Tulisa tries to diplomatically suggest that Misha might have a bad attitude back-stage and is possibly being mean to other contestants without realising. Kelly Rowland explodes and says that’s something that should be left back-stage, while Louis, like the little shit-stirrer he is, sticks his oar in and says that one of his acts is being bullied by Misha too. This makes me picture Misha back-stage throwing sugar cubes at Sami while shouting “Are you still with Martin, Sonia? Neigh! Neigh!”.  The show ends with Kelly Rowland roaming about on-stage looking for the prop that fired the jets of flame into the air during Kitty’s song, so that she can turn it on Louis and Tulisa.

The X-Factor 2011: Week Two - THE RESULTS

We open tonight, as ever, with a recap of yesterday’s show that goes on for about 3 hours, followed by the return of the horrendous group song! It is, of course, horrendous. Our heroes perform that Hello! song by Martin Solvig and Dragonette. As with all group songs, it is both lip-synced and auto-tuned. You’d imagine that auto-tune is meant to make someone sound better. Try telling that to Frankie, who still manages to sound like heroin needles being dragged across a chalkboard. They make the huge mistake of giving him one of the “Hello-oh-oh-oh-oh” parts, which results in patented Frankie vowel over-enunciation on each of the Oh sounds. Thanks for that.

Moving swiftly on, it’s time for our first time-wasting performance designed to pad out the show so that we can have extra time for voting money to come in and an additional ad break. Please welcome... The Wanted. Er... whatever. The Wanted sing and it’s all very bland and middle of the road. The judges respond with a standing ovation, because the Head Judge is Gary Barlow and if anyone embodies the qualities of bland and middle of the road, it is he. If you look closely during the standing ovation, you can see Kelly Rowland asking Gary who the hell The Wanted are. You can also see Louis asking which one is the inevitable gay one.

Katy Perry is up next. I love these intro videos. FIVE NUMBER ONES. FIFTY QUINTILLION ALBUMS SOLD ACROSS FOURTEEN PLANETS SPREAD ACROSS THREE GALAXIES. ONE ABSOLUTE PANCREAS OF A HUSBAND. Katy sings about the one who got away. “We made out in your Mustang and listened to Radiohead” she warbles. Katy Perry has never listened to Radiohead. “I was dreaming you were my Johnny Cash” she continues. Katy Perry has never listened to Johnny Cash. At no points do glitter, fireworks, cream or flames erupt from her tits, so I guess this makes it a subdued performance. Dermot and Katy chinwag and she tries to do a Liverpudlian accent. The impression is as bad as that impression of a singer she’s been doing for the past number of years. Confession time: I actually love her song ET. Fuck off.

Judges and Contestants line up for the verdict. I’m glad to see they’ve discontinued the stupid practice of having the contestants wear the same clothes they wore the night before. As usual, we get the contestants who are safe listed at a tediously slow pace and “in no particular order” except that designed to maximise shock. The Risk are safe. Tulisa’s risk paid off! She took a tisk on the risk and her risk was rewarded! Janet is dressed as though she’s in mourn... oh. Yeah. Janet is safe. Biscuitman is safe and contorts his face to indicate joy. It is frightening and I shall never sleep soundly again. Misha B and Sonia Fowler Horse are safe. Good, because Sonia looked like she was about to puke with worry. Rhythmic Kandy Girl-Lash are through, so I guess the curse of the girlband has been broken. Dull Sophie and Queen Kitty are safe, leaving us with Marcus, Frankie Headlouse and Nu Vibe. Marcus, who looks like he’s about to die, is safe. Nu Vibe and Frankie Skidmark are the bottom two! FRANKIE IS IN THE BOTTOM TWO. There is a god, and he did not vote for Frankie. Just like a significant portion of the public.

Ads and then we’re back for the sing-off. First up are Nu Vibe, “singing” Promise This. I’m told by a confirmed homosexual that tonight’s show is actually exactly one year since St Cheryl performed this tune herself on the results show. So let’s take a moment to remember Cheryl and everything she did for us during 3 years as a judge. Done. The first Nu Viber starts singing. Oh Jesus my ears. The second Nu Viber starts singing. Oh Jesus my ears. This is an insult to the memory of Cheryl Cole. It’s flat and horrible and out of tune and my brains are actually pouring out of my ears from listening to it. The audience applaud enthusiastically, because the audience are fucking morons.

Gary introduces Frankie Fleabag with “I can’t believe I’m saying this” as though Frankie were some world-class talent and this is a huge affront to music. This is the same Gary who last week was quite direct about the fact that Frankie CANNOT FUCKING SING. Tonight, Frankie will be slime-balling his way through Daniel Merriweather’s Red. You know how Daniel Merriweather has a pretty good voice, whatever about the quality of his songs? Well, Frankie doesn’t. He shuffles about on stage looking like someone who was on his way to a Noel Fielding cosplay convention and got lost. Words dribble out of Frankie, none of them particularly in tune, and then he concludes. Somewhere in the UK, Daniel Merriweather is suffering from a migraine and doesn’t know why.

Over to the judges so we can get to the foregone conclusion that they’re sending Nu Vibe home and saving Frankie Portacabin. Gary keeps going on about the shock that is Frankie’s placing in the bottom two. Fuck off, you plank. Unsurprisingly, Gary saves heroin-den-boy. Kelly Rowland doesn’t seem to realise that this part of the show is where Judges’ draw things out and spin things a certain way and instead just stammers variations on the words “Ah don’t know” and “Ah can’t” before eventually deciding the send Nu Vibe home. Tulisa obviously picks Frankie, and Louis, ever keen to make the most of his moment, eventually, after about 10 minutes of getting to the point, decides to send Nu Vibe home as well.

In discussion with Dermot, Nu Vibe don’t even try to pretend they’ll be sticking together after this, and save us all from experiencing that awkward moment where an eliminated X-Factor contestant says “this isn’t the last you’ll see of me!”.

The X-Factor 2011: Week Two

This week on the X-Factor, IT’S TIME to embrace your democratic rights, as the producers have deigned to give control of the show back to the public after successfully getting rid of the pregnant-contestant last week. That’s right, IT’S TIME to return to more traditional methods of manipulating the contest such as ramming Frankie down our throats, ensuring the results show goes to deadlock or changing the rules of the semi-final to favour the Chosen One. And also, as ever, IT’S TIME. TO FACE. THE MUSIC.

Dermot introduces us to tonight's theme – love and heartbreak. It’s a little less broad than last weekend’s History of Western Music theme, but it does mean we won’t be seeing Janet Devlin cover Motorhead this week. Oh well, we can only cross our fingers and hope that next week will be Metal Week.

First up is Nu Vibe... I guess that means they’re guaranteed to be in the bottom two tomorrow then. Tulisa explains in the intro video that she wasn’t happy when reviewing last week’s performance. She has something in common with the audience, then. She tries to make Nu Vibe interesting by playing up the tabloid rumours of vicious fights and ego-clashes. She fails. Nu Vibe have decided to deface U2’s With or Without You this week. Remember that awful club song that sampled With or Without You from the mid-noughties? Take Me to the Clouds Above? Remember that horror? Yeah, this is somehow worse than that. They’ve basically taken the concept of music and violently assaulted it down a dark alley. I don’t know if it’ll pull through. Judges! Louis says they’re less like Nu Vibe and more like No Vibe. Ho ho! That scamp. Kelly Rowland risks undermining the currency value of her new catchphrase when she accuses Nu Vibe of PUDDIN IT DAHN. No, Kelly. They did not. Shame on you. Gary Barlow is boring.

Next to perform is My Lovely Horse. This week, Sami’s done something to her hair that makes her look even more like Sonia From Eastenders. I keep expecting random images of Sonia and Martin to float by on-screen as she warbles along to My Heart Will Always Go On Loving You or whatever fucking ballad she’s singing that’s already been done to death fifty-three times over the eight years this show has been on-air. It isn’t exactly what you’d call Sami’s finest moment, which is a shame because she’s likeable in a young-Mary-Byrne crossed with a Shetland pony sort of way. She could be in trouble tomorrow. Judges! Kelly says Sami PUT IT DAHN. Ms K, I think your catchphrase might just be in danger of premature over-exposure. Tulisa says something inoffensive and Gary Barlow is boring.

Oh look, it’s Biscuitman and his face of emotion. This week, Biscuitman has decided to sing one of those limp Beyonce songs from her most recent album. As was the case last week, Biscuitman displays a variety of frightening and frankly bizarre facial expressions throughout the performance. I dread to think what he’s going to do to us at Halloween. The X-Factor “Style Team” have dressed Craig in a leather jacket and red trousers. Why would you do that to him, you evil fashion Nazis? Facial contortions concluded, Craig submits himself to the judges for appraisal. Louis jumps up onto the table and proceeds to do the chicken dance for 90 seconds. Or at least that’s what my brain told me happened in a bid to stop a total cerebral collapse brought on by the sound of Gary Barlow’s voice.

Next up is Janet Devlin. In her intro vid, Janet reveals she was a bit of a goth at school. Devlin does Black Sabbath could yet happen, folks. Just imagine her stomping on-stage and announcing, “I AM IRON MAN.” Janet’s intro-video also reveals that something terribly sad happened to her this week; Betty from Coronation Street died. Janet is understandably upset, but decided to perform anyway because the producers own her now. She’s just glad that Betty got to see her perform live last week during the first show. Janet sings I Can’t Help Falling In Love With You and it’s a bit cold and flat and lifeless. Dear reader, you thought I was going to use the words “cold and flat and lifeless” to segue into a joke about Betty, didn’t you? You heartless fucker. Judges! Remind us that Janet has had a tough week. Dermot! Reminds us that Janet has had a tough week. When that doesn’t reduce Janet to tears, a montage of images of Betty throughout the years flickers by on the giant screen, and the producers sit Janet into a contraption like the one from A Clockwork Orange to force her to take it all in. But she perseveres, and doesn’t cry. Exasperated, Dermot punches her in the vagina. Her eyes water, and the gods of public grief lap at the beautiful, salty tears.

Up next is Frankie, this year’s Chosen One and shit-stain on the toilet bowl of humanity. Frankie’s intro vide reveals that he’ll be singing a Colplay song but – shock – he forgot the words in rehearsals just today, and isn’t feeling confident. Yes, that’s old X-Factor chestnut of forgot-the-lyrics to create drama. In the intro-vid, we meet Frankie’ parents, H1 and N1, who are actually wearing t-shirts with Frankie’s obnoxious face and the words “Cheeky Chappie” printed on them. Proof that Frankie’s folks are as big a pair of fuckwits as their son. Frankie butchers The Scientist but doesn’t forget the words so... success? Judges! Louis thinks that Frankie has lost his swagger.Kelly Rowland balks at Louis’ use of that word and reminds him that only her people may use it, or something. I dunno, I was only half-paying attention. I was busy washing my eyes out; they start feeling a bit gritty every time Frankie’s on screen.

Johnny Robinson, the man who fell to Earth straight out of a Carry-On film, tells us all about Twitter and Kylie Minogue and how he’s going to be performing Can’t Get You Out of My Head and... words fail me. I mean... it’s just... look at the picture. LOOK AT IT. A middle-aged gay man dressed as a geisha singing Kylie Minogue ON THE MOST WATCHED SHOW IN BRITAIN. How is this happening? The entire spectacle makes last week’s performance of Cher’s Believe look like a state funeral. It is actually the campest thing to EVER happen on the X-Factor and that is saying quite a lot for a show that once had an entire episode devoted to Mariah Carey. And to top it all off, Johnny ends the performance by mouthing “VOGUE”. Utterly, utterly amazing. Judges! Crickets chirp and tumbleweed rolls by. Kelly Rowland attempts to speak several times and fails. Gary Barlow criticises the performance and says Johnny looks like something out of Aladdin. Johnny responds with “Oooh, you can rub my lamp any time, Gary”. This is actually amazing.

Back to the boys and Marcus the Gay Hairdresser, who seems like the personification of alpha male following J.Ro’s performance. Marcus will be performing Rihanna’s Russian Roulette, a song about her abusive relationship with Chris Brown. Following on from last week, I wonder can I work in a reference to Chris Brown the violent misogynist in every recap? Anyhow, Marcus is mostly good but there’s something un-engaging about him. Judges! Louis doesn’t think Marcus was very comfortable with Rihanna, like a Northern Irish farmer yelling “Cover up, you hussy” in a cold and lonely field.

Next up is Rhythmix, the girlband. Their intro-video is all about “the curse of the girlband” and the fact that all-female groups tend to do shit on the X-Factor. See last week’s recap ref: teenage girls, middle-aged mothers and gay men making up the voting demographic for this show. We get clips of Kandy Rain, Bad Lashes and Girlband, and I conclude that the only curse girlbands on this show suffer from is that they all have stupid names. Rhythmix perform reworked, urban version of Nelly Furtado’s Like a Bird. It’s surprisingly not terrible. Tulisa explains to the voters that Rythmic Kandy Girl-Lash don’t want to steal their boyfriends and that women need to stick together and stand united and deconstruct the meaning of neo-queer cisexuality in the context of ongoing attempts to broaden the contemporary scope of normative biological identities. Who knew the X-Factor would be dipping into third-wave feminism this season? A VOTE FOR RHYTHMIX IS A VOTE FOR ALL WOMEN.

Up next, is Misha Barton. You might remember Misha from being awesome last week. Misha’s intro-video is all about the “Style Team”, the horribly attired bastards responsible for dressing the contestants in the fashion excrement they’ll be wearing all season. They’re also the ones who have helped transform her from the waifish, pallid star of the OC into a fierce, strong, big-boned young black woman. It truly is the role of a lifetime, Misha reflects. This week, Misha is performing Would I Lie To You?, a song you don’t know that you know but you definitely know. It’s good but it isn’t as awesome as last week. Still, she’s probably the most watchable contestant. Not least because she’s dressed like a Quality Street this week.

Now it’s time for The Risk. In the intro video, we’re subjected to further terrible play on words that I refuse to legitimise by recapping. They’re pushing the whole “these boys are fit” angle, which seems a bit silly given only one of them is in any way shaggable. And that’s really only if you squint. They’re no Henry Cavills, anyway. Although I suppose if you put them standing on a stage with Frankie Coccozza they become the most attractive men in the country. The Risk sing Just the Way You Are, just the way Matt Cardle did last year, except not as competently. Though they’re better than Nu Vibe, obviously. Judges! Louis says that they’re a boyband, they’re all boys, and they’re in a band. Gary Barlow is fucking boring.

Following the Risk is someone called Sophie. Who? Habibis? Oh! Sophie Habibis! The one with the memorable surname and unforgettable everything else. Hilariously, in her intro-video Dull Sophie discusses the fact that no one knows who she is. Tonight, Dull Sophie will be singing the Twinings Advert version of Wherever You Will Go. Its such a word-for-word appropriation that Dull Sophie even pronounces her Rs oddly to better match Charlene Soraia’s “Whewevw you wiw go” inflections. This song is so re-entering the charts. What was I talking about? Sophie? Oh yeah. Sophie. Er, it’s pleasant enough I guess. Assuming it actually happened and I didn’t briefly fall asleep and imagine it.

Closing the show tonight is the modest and ever humble Kitty Brucknell. Kitty’s video is all about what a martyr Kitty is for bullied children everywhere, or something. Shut up, Kitty. When you talk you make people hate you and I need you to stay on this show for as long as possible. Just stay quiet when you’re not performing. Tonight, Kitty is performing an Alice-in-Wonderland themed version of It’s Oh So Quiet, complete with Mad Hatter and PERSON IN MAD MARCH HARE COSTUME. Let me just remind you, that on tonight’s X-Factor we’ve had a person dressed as a hare, an actress from The OC masquerading as a black girl, a gay-sha singing Kylie Minogue, a horse with a fringe singing Whitney Huston and a fat bloke from a biscuit factory making faces in red trousers. This is truly the greatest show on Earth. Anyhow, Kitty is amazing and the judges agree and she wins the show.

Join us tomorrow when Kitty is crowned the new Queen of England by the Pope, and special guests “The Wanted” and “Katy” “Perry” rape our ears. Fingers crossed for a horrendous group song, too. I felt robbed last week.

The X-Factor 2011: Week One - THE RESULTS

OH FORTUNA.

Dermot reminds us that last night, 16 acts sang to secure their places. I don’t need to be reminded, Dermot, my ears still haven’t stopped bleeding. Excited Voiceover Man outlines THE DRAMATIC TWIST which saw the X-Factor producers do away with the public vote to eliminate four contestants in one fell swoop, for nefarious reasons we’ll probably never understand. Or alternatively because they need to get rid of the pregnant contestant and will sacrifice 3 others to do it. The Machiavellian bastards. The judges plod on-stage. Kelly Rowland appears to be wearing several emus. Tulisa Athena Parathenaikos appears to have her own version of Our Cheryl’s famous salute wherein she raises her arm to show off her tats, or something. We’re forced to ensure a recap af yeaterday’s aural abuse. Hearing Frankie once was bad enough; I really didn’t need to listen to the cunt again, even if it was only for 8 seconds. Tulisa reminds us that The Risk are her risk. She’s very proud of that pathetic piece of shite word-play. Craig Colton and his EMOTIONS. Janet and her woodland animals. So many highlights! Louis tells us that he doesn’t know how the judges are going to choose an act to lose. Don’t worry Louis, I’m sure the producers will help.

It’s the first live show and that can only mean one thing – it’s time for the winner of last year’s final to come on and promote the timely release of their second single. So welcome back Matt Cardle, who’s here to sing a song written by Gary Barlow, apparently. It’s shit. You know you’re in trouble when both One Dimension and Cher Lloyd’s musical abortions are better than yours. Matt plays a guitar to prove to us all that he’s a credible musician and isn’t going to be dropped by SyCo in about two months, after his third single charts in the upper 30s. Song finished, Matt tells us that he’s spent the time since winning CO-WRITING HIS ALBUM. See? Credible musicians write their own music! Adverts!

Dermot chit-chats with the judges, and asks them how hard it was to make their decisions. Not hard at all, Dermot, they just learned some names from slips of paper handed to them by the production team. Dermot welcomes Cee Lo Green as tonight’s second performer. I think it’s meant to fit in with this yesterday’s UK (Cardle) vs US (Cee Lo) song-choice theme. You know, the theme that limited the contestants to only songs from the entire history of western music. Cee Lo comes and does his thing and is generally like a little Lenny Henry. Cee Lo’s thing consists of badly pronouncing his words, barely in time to the music. In the vein of little Paije Richardson from last year, Cee Lo runs out of breath about halfway through the performance, which doesn’t really help the difficulty I’m having in understanding a single word he’s saying. I recommend he take some classes with Frankie’s elocution instructor – he’ll be enunciating in no time. I think they booked Cee Lo in order to make Matt Cardle seem good. More adverts!

What? We’re going right into the results? WHERE’S MY LIP-SYNCED GROUP NUMBER, YOU FUCKERS? I feel robbed. Anyway, Louis is first up, and they’re really going to draw this out because we’re getting the names of the contestants who are safe first. Sami is through! Kitty is safe! And gets booed. Fuck you audience, she was ten times better than Jonjo the plank. Speaking of, femme fatale Johnny Robinson is safe, which means Jonjo the soldier is going back to the Eastern Front, to protect the realm from the marauding Moors. Jonjo’s a soldier, you know. Jonjo mumbles a bit and then shuffles off back to the Crimean, as Dermot O’Leary ACTUALLY says, “He has to go back to the army now” to Louis Walsh.

Next up is Barlow and the boys, including everybody’s favourite junkie-chic spastic wankstain Frankie. I hate you. Gary says it was terribly difficult to decide whom to axe cruelly, with all the emotional conviction of an autistic person. Marcus the gay hairdresser is the first to be saved. Gary announces that Biscuitman is also safe, with all the enthusiasm of a stone. Finally, Gary monotones that he’s saving Frankie and sending James home. What a fucking shock right there – they saved the contestant they’ve been ramming down our throats since he first dropped his underpants to expose his diseased arse on the first show of the series. James sobs and tells us how he’s going to carry on with his music, just like every losing X-Factor act ever. And look at them all now!

Next up is Tulisa, who does a very convincing job of looking like she hates having to do this. She’s like the opposite of Gary Barlow, in that she has emotions. First group saved are Rhythmix. They’re gone next week, then. Then she saves The Risk, because they’re her risk, and she wants to continue taking a risk on them, so she’s taken a risk and saved them. Tulisa struggles to justify saving Nu Vibe, because they’re fucking terrible, but the producers have concocted this whole judge’s elimination scheme to get rid of the pregnant contestant, so 2 Shoes are going home. Tulisa says she can’t find a reason to explain why she’s getting rid of 2 Shoes. Because she’s contractually forbidden to say that the producers told her to.

Finally, it is Ms K and the girls. Misha looks fucking amazing. It’s like bonbon packaging factory vomited on top of her. Janet looks like a Victorian schoolmarm. And is the first one to be saved. Janet skips off to frolic with deer and wolfhounds. The next girl saved is “Miss Misha B” because she is amazing. So, it’s between Sophie and Amelia Lily. And Kelly sends... Amelia? Home? I love Kelly even more now that she’s the only judge to deliver an actual shock tonight. Amelia is in bits, and doesn’t even look like she believes it when Kelly says “Y’all are going to see this girl everywhere”. If only James had some of Amelia’s common sense.

The X-Factor 2011: Week One

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Diary of a Queen: Berlin Pt2

Dear One’s Diary

Arrived safe and sound after a somewhat turbulent flight yesterday – I calmed my nerves by getting jolly on overpriced vodka. They’re fucking robbers, those Ryanair bastards. But I can’t stay angry at Michael O’Leary for long. I find him oddly alluring. Philip and I occasionally role-play; him as Michael, me as the anthropomorphic embodiment of the concept of profit. Oh, those are passionate nights. Checked into my hotel and in my drunken state almost gave the game away; momentarily forgetting that I’m here as Lois Carmen Denominator and not HRH Queen Elizabeth II. I covered my tracks by heavily tipping the young Aryan bell-hop who was taking my bags. I really shouldn’t have brought my tiara and sceptre with me, I suppose, but that’s what happens when you pack in a hurry, isn’t it?

I slept soundly, and arose early to see some sights on a walking tour. Well, I say walking, but I actually rented a Segway scooter. I’m not quite as young as I used to be and I don’t want to have my corns flare up at me on the first day of my holidays. We took in many a location; the Brandenburg Gates and the statue of Victory over Paris almost brought a tear to my eye – nothing touches me more than anti-French sentiment. Fucking frogs. We visited the largest stretch of Berlin Wall still standing – it’s surrounded by barriers to prevent people taking chunks as souvenirs but I reckon if I head back in the early hours of the night that I can hop the barrier, bash a chunk off with my sceptre and take cover in a nearby pub in no time at all, especially with the increased mobility and speed the Segway gives me. I think I’ll invest in one for home. Should make traversing Buckingham Palace a whole new experience. Among other locations, we also stopped by the site of Hitler’s death. Ah, diary, the nostalgia at revisiting the Fuhrerbunker brought me back to that glorious day in April 1945 when, incognito as Eva Braun, I surprised an amorous Adolf in the bunkerbedroom with a lady-magnum and brought his reign of terror to an end, single-handedly. Those were good times; I didn’t have as much fun after that until I brought the Cuban Missile Crisis to a close.

Following my walking tour, I visited the Zoo to lay a wreath for poor Knut, then made my way back to the hotel for a rest. Night fell, and I spent the evening whizzing about on the scooter visiting various pubs and clubs. I berated some ladies of the night who approached me offering their services; asking them what their mothers would think in perfect Deutsche. Things got heated and I gave one of them a whack with my handbag. Alas, I forgot my sceptre was in there and fell to the ground like a sack of herpes-riddled potatoes. I made a speedy getaway and settled in for the night at a pleasant little bar. I may have gotten slightly tipsy, as I awoke this morning back in my hotel room with no recollection of the journey back, no sceptre and no sign of my scooter. I think I’ll miss that more than the sceptre, which was getting a little bit worn looking. And there's plenty more where it came from, anyway.

I have lots of plans for the remainder of my holiday, however I see things are quite fraught back home in London. If that twit Cameron and bumbling oaf Boris can’t set things straight I’ll have to head back and sort it out myself.

Ich Bin Ein Lizzie

Diary of a Queen: Berlin Pt1

Dear One’s Diary

The flight and hotel have been booked – I’m heading to Berlin for my Summer sojourn. It’s always nice to visit the motherland, and to do so in disguise, as one of the common people, affords a wonderful opportunity to experience a different side to a place; one that normally eludes me as I am forced to march through a procession of formal events, pomp and pageantry. I first hit upon the notion of using a disguise back in 1998, when I desperately wished to visit Brazil during Carnival but couldn’t afford to be discovered parting hard in the streets of Rio given that I was meant to be showing restraint following the death of Diana. Ironic that I had to go to such lengths to avoid scandal given the amount of it she generated during her public life. And doubly ironic that her “death” should inconvenience me so at the time when I actually have her chained up in the Tower, alive and mostly well. But I digress. Over the years I have carefully refined my disguise into a distinct alter ego – Lois Carmen Denominator. Married seven times to various multi-millionaire hotel magnates and entrepreneurs who died suspiciously, Lois is an eccentric and profligate woman-of-means, a refined and sophisticated culture vulture and occasional party animal. She is an enigma, wrapped in a guessing game, stuffed into a blender full of questions and smeared all over the playing pieces of Cluedo. She has become a dear friend to me, this persona I adopt, and I slip into her as easily as I do a pair of scarlet crotch-less suspenders.

I plan to take in several sights, and I may perhaps slip out of the Lois Common Denominator disguise to share some tea with Angela and give her some more advice on how she could appear more feminine. Though she didn’t take kindly to my previous advice on hemlines and lipstick and promptly deleted it from her Wall. Perhaps I'll share with her my ideas on sorting out this European debt crisis instead, or have a laugh or two about that insecure toad Nicholas.

Ich Bin Ein Lizzie