X-Factor – the new Top of The Pops – lumbers on and the initial flash-mob of yodelers we began with has been narrowed down to small enough numbers for me to be arsed to write a post about it. Such is the nature of the show that when I tried to recall who has been evicted so far my mind went completely blank and I think I may need hypnotic suggestion (or Google) to remember who the hell they were.
But, alas, they are today’s chip wrappers and they’ll have to spend their own money to hire a PR company to get them onto Daybreak or Ready Steady Cook to promote their doomed new single. It will take luck, perseverance and lots of oil on the cogs of the media machine to achieve any form of notoriety and I admire any of them who manages to claw themselves out of the primordial soup of anonymity.
So, where we at? Who’s left, and what are their chances?
Matt Cardle (aka Jimmy Sommerville) Matt has slowly been mutating into Jimmy Sommerville; progressively trying to hit higher and higher notes and if he’s not careful his only audience will be dogs and bats. I do quite like him, though, he has that cheeky-chappie charm about him and you can tell he is itching to get that cap back on. FYI I know why he wears a cap: I painted and decorated for a couple of summers with my dad and you always wear a hat otherwise your hair gets speckled with paint and you look like an extra from the Thriller video. Final 4 or 5 I reckon.
Treyc Cohen (aka…umm…nobody?) Again, someone’s been swapping the keys on the keyboard! Treyc? Really? Treyc? Treyc keeps chugging on, belting out the songs, like a walking, talking karaoke machine. As Louie would say ‘she’s got everything!’ She does. She’s pretty, she’s got a belting voice but she has zero x-factor. She is gonna go. Soon.
One Direction (aka The Goonies) Everytime One Direction mount the stage Our Cheryl says – like a religious mantra – ‘you’re so adorable, you’re my guilty pleasure…’ They are very, very young and I don’t know about you but as far as I know half-term is coming to an end and I just don’t know where they found the time to practice their routines between visits to Giraffe, The Natural History Museum and Alton Towers. They’ll make it to the final three, easy.
Aidan Grimshaw (aka Carrie) Someone I follow on Twitter tweeted (I cannot remember who, so fess up if it were you) that everytime Aidan sings he looks as if he is trying to move objects with his mind. Now, I cannot watch him without thinking he is going to throw a stool at Simon or move disco balls to an irie beat. Unfortunately he is not that interesting and just looks like the kind of lad you see at parties having intense conversations with girls on the stairs…then the girls look at you with an expression that says: Save me. I have been here for hours and I have a sore arse, tired ears and need to go somewhere and have fun. Please. He’ll get knocked out soon because his ironic scepticism is starting to grate.
Paije Richardson (aka Gary Coleman*) I don’t what happened this year, but someone has swapped the keys out of the caption machine keyboard again – the jakes! What’s wrong with the spelling: Paije? Why? Phonics? Is Paije worried about the literacy of pre-schoolers? I dunno…but the guy can sing and he is ripe for a bit of a radical makeover, but…I reckon he won’t last because he is just too nice and a tiny bit bland. Which is a shame. *NOT TO SCALE
Cher Lloyd (aka Tin-Tin Kyrano) If Cher can resist having a mental breakdown, crying every time she sings or continue to rap like John Barnes she should progress quite far. The judges keep telling us that she is like nothing we’ve ever seen before, that she is somehow going to be the saviour of British pop occupying the neverworld of the avant-garde and the new musical zeitgeist. Yeah right, this is X-Factor, remember? Get a grip. Final 3 if her animatronics hold out.
Rebecca Ferguson (aka Sasha) Rebecca has probably the best voice of all the contenders but I reckon that Simon and his ‘musical’ cronies are looking at her and thinking: Alexandra Burke…Leona Lewis… we need another type of product to promote. This is her only minus and if she holds her nerve she will go all the way.
Katie Wassell (aka David Coultard) Biggus Chinnus has made kooky a dirty word. Kooky is Goldie Hawn. Kooky is Sandie Shaw. Kooky is cute, and weird and somehow great at the same time. Katie just comes across as annoying like that kid you went to college with who decided to do a performing arts NVQ and were never the same again. She’s gonna get the chop sharpish, I reckon. Thank god.
Mary Byrne (aka Tesco) Like Tesco, Mary is big, tremendously effective at what they do and extremely popular. Mary has got a great voice, but one wonders how utilitarian it is. It’s like Thor’s hammer; which is great at knocking down walls and causing impact related mayhem but not much cop at putting up picture hooks. She has got the popular vote – mainly because she works, in shackles, with the UK antichrist, sorrow factory that is Tesco – and will go far. I reckon that final 4 or 5.
Wagner (aka Robert Downey Jr‘s Dad) Wagner is here because he is funny, but for the me the joke is wearing thin. At least with Jedward there was a genuine sense of morbid anticipation at what crazed production they’d be involved in to mask their feeble singing ability. But I think Wagner is not as interesting as those two and is starting to annoy me a bit. He won’t last much longer, I don’t think.