Saturday, 21 November 2009

X Factor (Week 6) - Crusty's Interest Returns?

Having regained a very slight interest in the shenanigans of X Factor following the vicar’s wise words one decided to proceed cautiously and watch Week 6's stage from the comfort of one’s Drawing Room. There was to be no nibbles, Chu Me was in his quarters, watching one of his specialist nature videos and one only had a bottle of the finest Pere Ventura Brut Nature Tresor Cava in an ice-bucket by one’s side for company.

Though Chu Me was not to enjoy the evening with his mistress, he had asked earlier in the day what the theme de jour was. “Queen night.” One had said.

His eyebrows raised as he pointed out that even though controversy reigned, at least there would be an overwhelming feeling of glamour, colour co-ordination, well manicured nails and a delicate hint of Kouros in the air. It was at this juncture that one had to clarify that the evening was actually surrounding a legendary pop group called Queen.

Anyhoo … the show finally started and one forced one’s self to be interested. Queen’s ‘Flash’ blasted out and our judges appeared. Simon comfortably wearing the same outfit he had been wearing the week before, Louise accessorising with a narrow black tie (almost as if he was in mourning for the death of the show’s integrity). Danniiiii Minge (sorry, my keyboard’s sticking) was, for once, dressed quite pleasantly and there were definitely no signs of moth holes in the glittering fabric.

Cheryl y’-nailed-it Cole had clearly confused ‘Flash’ with domestic cleaning duties and had draped a sequined bin bag around her spindles and buffed up her legs to a shimmering shine.

Simon gave a patronising and worthless apology at the storm he had caused the week before, then threw down his gauntlet to Sting after his comments on the karaoke style feel of the show.

Anyhoo … act one was Jamie Aerosmith Archer. Dressed smartly in shiny pantloons, with no sign of table cloths hanging from his rear buttocks and his afro treated to the Cleo Lane treatment, one expected a lot from his performance of ‘Radio Ga Ga’. Sadly, it was not to be and perhaps it was over-confidence but in the quieter moments of the song, hitting the right notes was not something he managed to achieve.

Our little Welsh poppet, Lloyd no-relation-to-Paul Daniels, was to follow Jamie. Yoda Friendman had managed to find a way to get everything inside of him and it certainly made something wonderful happen, as Lloyd’s lungs produced a little extra umph throughout his rendition of ‘Crazy Little Thing Called Love’. Simon wasn’t too impressed and suggested he was like “a puppy in the Grand National” (where as Simon is a knackered old mare in a paddock of young equestrian wonderment).

An injury had occurred during the week for our next turn. It was Oily Mares. He had apparently been fooling around in the gym at the house the contestants share and managed to break a bone in his hand. Though he acted as the perfect gentleman and didn’t say it himself, Crusty knew it was because he had punched the Brothers Grime. As one took a sip of one’s Pere Ventura, one raised one's glass and whispered, “Good show, dear!"

His version of ‘Don't Stop Me Now’ was quite acceptable and even Dannniiiii said it “brought a smoil to moi fice.” (and with the botox involved, dears, that’s quite an accomplishment).

Delicious Dermott (so much more that just a presenter, Ms Walsh!!) then introduced the heavenly Joe McElderry. One grabbed the arm of the sofa with one’s right hand, bit the index finger on one’s left and squealed with excitement as he took to the stage with ‘Somebody to Love’. It was as if he was singing it directly to Crusty and one’s heart was all a pitter-patter.

Louise for some reason was not happy with the choir that was behind Joe, but considering his remaining ‘act’ (though one prefers ‘travesty’) has been drowned out by the volume of their backing singers since the start, everyone else brushed off the old, grey-haired man in the corner and gave more enlightened comments.

Coincidentally, after Ms Walsh’s comments about the choir behind juicy Joe, Satan’s children took to the stage with an entourage of backing singers performing a Vanilla Ice number. Poor Louise confused Movie week with ‘Movies that Louis Walsh Has Seen” and this week he confused Queen week with “Sampled Queen Songs Within Other Artist's Songs”. Sufficed to say the performance was appalling and the only joy one obtained from it was when one of the little dears nearly tripped arse-over-tit when he ripped through the paper back drop at the start.

The fabulous Stacey Solomon glided on to centre stage after our visit to the depths of Hell. This week performing ‘Who Want To Live Forever’ (a personal favourite of Crusty’s). Dressed in a stunning copper coloured dress, she certainly was a conductor of vocal power and as the sparkling light cascaded, like a diamond curtain, behind her one almost thought one’s knicker elastic was about to snap. A triumph!

Smoulderingly, sexy Danyl Johnson was our next course (he who has a penchant for the man-biscuit as well as the lady-trifle) and the song of choice? ‘We Are The Champions’. One must say one enjoyed his performance and certainly the crowd seemed to also.

Though one had watched the evenings proceedings, one still wasn’t back to 100% interested but when the results show came on Sunday one felt stirrings. The final two were Lloyd and Jamie.

For their sing-off songs, Lloyd sang something awful and Jamie gave us ‘The Show Must Go On’ (well, not for you, dear!) for as the show went to deadlock, Jamie was ejected from the competition.

As Simon Cowell’s jaw dropped to the floor like a cowpat splatting to a farmyard floor from its orifice of origin, one squealed with delight and applauded loudly, and do you know poppets, one thinks one has gained one’s interest back again. Quite the result!

As Dermott closed the show, he broke the news that the hideous Mariah Scarey is returning next week. Still, one's interest has been rejuvenated, so let's not allow that to spoil things. There is the blessing that the lovely Susan Boyle is also performing, so maybe she can teach Mariah a little humility.

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