Monday, 30 November 2009

X Factor (Week 8) - Take That Elton John!

This week the long running saga of X Factor had a refreshing difference to the normal format. Week 8 was to challenge our popstar hopefuls by performing two songs each; one was from the successful catalogue of those talented towers of tottyness, Take That and a second song from the monumental list of hits of Her Serene Majesty (and Godmother to us all) Sir Elton John.

Chef had finished early and had raced out for a game of bingo in the back room of The Badger’s Snatch, so Chu Me took charge of nibbles for the evening and, One must say, he did us proud; a mouth-watering selection of dishes (inspired from his village in a land far, far away) were spread the full length of the large table set in the corner of the Ballroom. The screen on the giant Bang & Olufsen - hanging above the fireplace - had been cleaned beautifully and he had positioned seats, for both he and I, next to the back wall, leaving more than adequate floor space at one’s disposal should the contestants compel one to shake a tail feather or two.

The show began … and the delicious Dermott O’Leary took to the stage. The crowd erupted in frenzied screaming. He strutted to the side of the set and introduced the X Factor judges.

Simon and Louise, again, opted for black attire and maintained their dapper appearance.

Danniiiii Minge (sorry my keyboard’s sticking) was – though it chokes one to admit it – dressed in a rather elegant flowing number, and just as one thought she had finally cracked it, one noticed one minor problem. It appeared that while sitting in makeup, the applicator had put on the usual Alice band to lift her hair from her face but had completely forgotten to remove it before Dannnniiii took to the stage; so we can only guess what the intended hairstyle should have looked like?

Cheryl y’-nailed-it Cole stood alongside Danniiiiiiii in an explosion of gold and black … and, believe me poppets, when one says ‘explosion’, one quite literally means ‘explosion’.

It is rumoured that there is a rivalry between Cheryl and Victoria Beckham in the fashion stakes. However, where vivacious Victoria would adorn herself in magnificence and say, “I just got this from the latest Gucci collection”, one feels the example slung on by Cheryl would suggest, “I found this in a heap, like, under the 95% Off rail in Primark and, like, stuck a bow on it.” (Ever the resourceful one).

One was always led to believe the term W.A.G. was associated with being the wife or girlfriend of a famous footballer. Clearly, in Mrs Coles’ case it simply means Wears Attrocious Garments.

Anyhoo … Back to the competition and first to sing this week was puppy-eyed Danyl Johnson (He who has a penchant for the man-biscuit as well as the lady-trifle). His first song was the huge Take That hit ‘Relight My Fire’. A wonderful performance, save for the rather camp top. Nevertheless, Yoda Friedman did an adequate job of the dance routine and as the natural heat of Danyl’s smouldering features seeped out of ever inch of one’s equipment, one was convinced the antique wall panelling of the Ballroom was about to ignite. As an aside, he may not have thought anyone noticed, but one particularly liked his little Lulu in the middle.

Our Welsh heartthrob, Lloyd no-relation-to-Paul Daniels was second on stage and this week he was given ‘A Million Love Songs’. A fairly straight forward song to sing but sadly one feels the Greyhound bus to Pitchville suffered a puncture and never quite reached its destination (One feels that Lloyd’s time is drawing rapidly to a close).

The first of Simon’s flock was up next. Oily Mares, singing a simple ballad; ‘Love Ain’t Here Anymore’. An altogether wonderful performance with some lucky little nymphette in the front row being sung to directly by our waist-coated warbler. (One suspects a little seepage of excitement occurred).

As Cheryl revealed to us the next act, one jumped to one’s feet applauding rapidly and squealing with excitement. It was our South Shields stud-muffin, Joe McElderry. His first song was ‘Could It Be Magic’.

His performance was knicker-wettingly good and it would seem all four judges were equally as moist. Do you know, poppets, if Crusty was of adequate years, one is quite convinced one would like to bear his children. By the end of the performance one was on the cusp of hysterics. Thankfully, a member of kitchen staff entered with a replacement tray of nibbles. As one grabbed her by her apron and slapped her face, one managed to return to a state of calm.

Dolly Dagenham – was the last in the Take That line up, with her cover of ‘Rule the World’. Quite frankly, with a set of lungs like that, I dare say she could, poppets. She made the song her own and Chu Me, a rather bruised member of kitchen staff and I swayed in unison with flickering candles in our right hands.

A short break from the proceedings and it was time for the Sir Elton John songs (One bows in the shadow of his fabulousness).

Lloyd was first in this section and his rendition of ‘I’m Still Standing’. As we witnessed a glimpse of the dance training at Yoda’s School of Dance, Lloyd revealed a little something to the viewer; he was not looking forward to the climax of the routine because he was afraid of heights. What death defying feat was our little poppet going to attempt? Is it really worth risking life and limb for a talent show?

As one sat with one’s twinkling blue eyes fixed to the screen, the moment came. One gasped and clenched Chu Me’s wrist firmly …another gasp … and then ……oh! … he sat on the shoulders of a couple of dancers! … Hmmm! … hardly the same as abseiling Big Ben but, thankfully, he managed to finish the performance without a nosebleed.

The second song on Danyl’s playlist was ‘Your Song’. Now, normally one does like his performances but one found oneself humming along until one line in particular where one felt compelled to join in, ‘…and you can tell everybody, this ain’t your song; It may be quite simple but, you’re getting it wrong”. Enough said!

Oily Mares’ second piece was a butching up of ‘Saturday Night’s (Alright for Fighting)’, though one could still see an element of campness sneaking back in. Cheryl couldn’t believe that Oily had managed to concentrate ‘with all those beautiful, sexy girls around you’ (one suspects he used Cheryl as an antidote to help keep it real).

One’s Geordie Jewel was to perform next with ‘Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word’. AN ABSOLUTE TRIUMPH! As one started to shake with excitement, the bruised member of kitchen staff sensed danger and shot out into the main hall, Chu Me whipped his arms behind him and locked them in place. With no other options available, one ran to the doors, flung them open and screamed across one’s grounds.

Limp as ten day old asparagus from all the excitement, one couldn’t even concentrate on the lovely Stacey singing the ultimate song; ‘Something About The Way You Look Tonight’. She was, however, a powerhouse of vocal dreaminess.

The following night – Sunday – was results night. No interference from our judges (one wishes it could always be like that), just the public vote. The person with the least votes? …get your hat and coat, dear!

The special guests were introduced; Alicia Keys screeched like a mating vixen rummaging through overturned bins in a suburban alleyway and as for Rihanna … there was something about her performance that one simply adored… the chair that was revolving centre stage. Other than that, highly repetitive nonsense.

Needless to say, one’s mystical powers had proved themselves once more and poor Lloyd was no more. He was given the ceremonial clap and shown his video montage.

The end is in sight, poppets and one is looking forward to what is in store next week


  1. You almost make me want to watch it, but I can't stand any of the judges, and I hate karaoke even more.

    When someone tells me they are going to sing something original then I might watch it (as well as the flying pigs!)

  2. Ian Dear,

    One swears it is the height of entertainment, if not only to see what monstrosities the lady-judges have been wrapped in.

    Though one must confess – with those four sitting there looking completely disinterested as the acts sings, one feels it is like a community youth club trying to entertain their local pensioners care home. The youths wishing they hadn’t bothered; the pensioners wondering what time ‘Frost’ was on.

    As for the Flying Pigs, one thought they had disbanded in the 80s. Just as well really, the one that looked like Uncle Fester from the Addams Family used to give one nightmares and the one with the overgrown hairy sideburns just looked like soap products weren’t a priority in life. Or is one thinking of something entirely different?

    One looks forward to our South Shields star winning the competition. One is quite sure he will be a cascading waterfall of originality.

    Love, joy and laughter,

  3. I have been forced to endure X-factor this year, but after reading this I see it in a different light. I shall be glued to the TV this Saturday and will await your glorious review of the procedings. Oh and you nmade me splurt coffee out of my nose, normally a bad thing, but it is cold today.