Sunday, 6 September 2009

Uncle Dick Makes Crusty Think.

Crusty had a comment left on one's last posting from that monument of magnificent manliness, Uncle Dick Madeley. He had expressed subdued Grrrrrr-iness at the whole X-Factor experience we are all to be subjected to over - what will seem like - the next year and a half. Though its format may have changed slightly with a live audience, we will no doubt still have to endure an appalling selection of hits from the judges - from a huge back catalogue of infinitely better ones available -for the final selection of contestants to sing each week. Also, to further endure the grand final when some international turns will appear and be fawned over and have smoke blown up their downstairs areas.

In particular, one recalls when Mariah Scarey graced the set to meet the remaining contestants and give them advice on their performances for that weeks show. How odd to have an artist who, at the start of her career, had the voice of an angel and after far too much Divary-pokery now sounds more like a deflating vintage Hoover bag. Her general attire leaves a lot to be desired too; everytime one sees one of her music videos it usually includes shots of her in skirts which are outrageously short and could quite easily run the risk of foof exposure.

Still, Uncle Dick got one thinking and it was then, after a delicous sip of chilled Pere Ventura Brut Nature Tresor, that one had the wonderful idea of a televisual ointment that could remedy the pain of a lengthy X-Factor run ... 'The Y Factor'.

This thought sprung into one's mind when I saw one auditionee sing her little heart out to the Dreamgirls classic 'And I Am Telling You (I'm Not Goin')' and I saw Cheryl y'nailed-it Cole looking at her thinking, 'God! That's what it's like to be able to sing?' (incidentally, funny how everyone associates Jennifer Hudson with that song when it was sung far better in the original stage performance by the fabulous Jennifer Holliday)

The Y Factor would be a program on which Crusty and a panel of judges (perhaps Crusty could become the next - and infinitely more elegant -Simon Cowell) would sit with a live audience and have existing pop singers etc. sing to them without the aid of hidden auto tuning equipment and technological wizardry supporting them. The nation, audience and judges could then ask themselves 'why?'; why did this person ever get a recording contract?; why did anyone ever open the recording studio door and let this one in?. Imagine it poppet, "Thank you for attending, Cheryl dear! You certainly have the Y factor!...NEXT!"

Anyhoo ... one has emailed the suggestion to the relevant television channels and I shall notify one's family of poppets should a reply be forthcoming.


  1. Only two things are known by a single letter: TV talent shows and atomic weapons. I can't say which I find the more frightening, the X Factor or the H Bomb.

  2. Each causing equal amounts of devastation when dropped on the nation, poppet! xx