After the Olympics tears, dama and talent the X Factor is disqualified
IS the X Factor suffering from the Olympics, where real jaw-dropping talent, high drama, great backstories and tears were in abundance? What can the X Factor do to make itself relevant? How can the scrap for phone votes and a contract to wipe your arse on Simon Cowell’s black toilet roll be portrayed as struggle when you’ve just a man with no legs run around an athletics track?
Well, this year wannabes can sing their own songs and even – get his – play instruments. Not autotune. Instruments. Things made from wood and brass. No, not Gary Barlow. Although if you blow into his left nostril while holding your thumb over his right ear he sounds like Kenneth Williams spotting Barbara Windsor’s washing line.
The producers could portray judge Mel B as a nasty cow, encouraging her to dish our pre-arranged Scary comments.
Or they try laughing. Harry Hill is writing a musical based on the show. It will have to be heavy on the funny, lampooning the self-serving, self-aggrandising, selfish judges and their pompous looks of cod shock and amazement.
He might find a spot for a FIGHT sequence between a happy-slapping Tulisa and Pink impersonator Zoe Alexander, who opened the season by taking rejection in a way that you’d expect a pop star raised on hype to. Alexander sang a version of Pink’s So What in the manner of someone explaining the lyrics to a foreign language student. Word delivery was was good but feeling, tunefulness, interest and melody were somewhere in central Romania. Alexander followed rejection by throwing a tantrum. She was later arrested for hitting an X Factor producer. She received a caution after admitting assault.
And then comes the entirely unsympathetic backstory. Maybe the X Factor aims to be anti-Olympics. a journey into bad sports, worse losers and unbearable winners. Alexanders tells the press:
“They set out to make a total and utter fool of me. Even though this audition was in June, I’m still struggling to come to terms with what happened. I used to be so confident and I trusted people. Now I just don’t trust anyone. I can hardly sleep – I’m basically a nervous wreck.”
Who better to tell of your distrust of mankind to than the Daily Mirror? Well, the News of the World is closed down. You make do.
Here’s Alexander’s meltdown. (Nicola Adams she ain’t.)