X-Factor

So, the yearly circus that is The X-Factor is over and was won unsurprisingly by the looming ginger ogre that is James Arthur. I can’t deny it, the boy can sing, but he’s only as original as his first song. He delivers every song exactly the same; starts of slow, build up to a crescendo then screams while shaking his head at the disbelief he’s still on stage. I liked him for about 2 weeks when I thought, if he gets kicked out the show he won’t have to help undo Mr Cowell’s lofty belt pre-fellatio and may be picked up by a label that will market him well and hone his original songs. Instead he’s been originality emasculated; they even tried to pretty him up. All I’m saying is if my daughter brought him home I’d say ‘take him back!’ and ‘who are you?! I don’t even have a daughter!’

Anyway, we all know who the real winner was: Tulisa’s boobs.

Poor buggers were squeezed into every shape imaginable, like meaty dodecahedrons! Her opinion was about as coveted as her oral skills. The week she sang live on the show she was far outshone by the pop veteran Pink, I’m no Pink fan but there was no contest. She only stood out in N-Dubz because she was the only female of the 4 tits on show (two of which were hers.)

I couldn’t take Barlow seriously without the beard (he needs it, it’s so slimming) and he sounds like Ringo Starr narrating Thomas the Tank Engine and Friends. If power ballad maestro Christopher ‘I love me Nan’ Maloney wasn’t his act, I reckon he’d have slammed him when they give out their comments. He already tried to bin him once.

Nicole Scherzeminimerler was supposed to be this year’s feather rustler but failed to impress. She was wearing this ridiculous dress with a chest plate on akin to the ones that adorn coffins or the outside of listed buildings. There was a beautiful moment of live show mishap when they cut to her when she was polishing it with a handkerchief like the vacuous waste of skin she is. Contracting a name and an expressive word doesn’t make anything particularly Jahmazing, just makes you come across as a Nicunt!

Louis is the only judge I can stomach, and that’s only because you have to be nice to pensioners and I don’t want anyone thinking I’m a homophobe.

Another crap outing for a routinely crap show, but I watched it because I’m the lemming following the sheep.