It was a quiet affair for the X Factor extravaganza at Crusty Hall this week. It was all becoming just too exciting and one did not want to appear in a public state of distress if one’s little South Shields stud-muffin was unsuccessful on his journey to super-stardom. As a result, one give all household staff the night off and Chu Me and I sat in the Drawing Room with a small, flavourful array of nibbles and a sufficient supply of gin, tonic and Pere Ventura Cava to last the evening.
The show began and deliriously delicious Dermott took to the stage to set the ball rolling. The judges were introduced.
The boys were smoothly dressed, as they have been most weeks.
Dannniiii Minge (sorry, my keyboard’s sticking) appeared from the back doors like a Roman empress in her flowing dark coloured toga, with her complementary potato waffle earrings and tatty hair.
Cheryl y’-nailed-it Cole scuttled out in an apparent mermaid’s costume, made from the skin of very large silver fish. The poor creature had obviously been caught very recently as it still appeared to have an array of little, black, parasitic tiddlers attached along its length; the majority of them had settled around the bustal expanse (they are unlikely to find much to feed on there, one fears).
Eventually, the final was underway and - as we learned later in the show - this evening, we were going to have the pleasure of three songs from our popstar hopefuls.
First on stage was the lovely Dolly Dagenham. Her first choice of song was one of Crusty’s all time favourites, ‘What a Wonderful World’. One has always thought no one could match the great Louis Armstrong, but one must say one adored the version she gave the viewing public.
Next up, Oily Mares. During the video clip before the performance, we saw Oily going back to his hometown with Simon. They decadently travelled in a big, black chopper. One watched with playful glee as the aircraft tilted to the side for a turn. One smiled at the unlikely event of Oily releasing his mentor’s safety belt and pushing him out of the door (purely for entertainment purposes, you understand!).
His song of choice was the Stevie Wonder classic, ‘Superstition’. A pleasant enough performance and he certainly had a lucky escape at the start of his song when he nearly crashed to the floor as he slipped during his strutting (One thinks a little more oil next time, Chu Me).
Then, one’s heart began pounding underneath one’s bosom as Chu Me poured an ice cold gin and tonic. There could be only one more contestant and indeed, Joe McElderry was next.
One’s little poppet, returned home to our breathtaking region, unfortunately bringing Cheryl back with him. However, this didn’t have an adverse affect and the welcome he received from the waiting crowds was overwhelming. One must admit, even Crusty had tears in her eyes as his grandmother told him how proud she was of him. Even Cheryl was close to tears as she stood in the McElderry kitchen (admittedly one was quite impressed to see her progression from a can and straw to being able to drink from a glass … the only way is up now, dear!)
The lighting was perfect and a dreamy dribble of dry ice rippled over the stage as he chose to sing another of Crusty’s all time favourites; this time from the colossal catalogue of the late, great Luther Vandross, ‘Dance With My Father Again’. An absolutely sublime performance; a mixture of maturity, emotion and crystal clear vocals. ¡Bravísimo cariño!
One was quite undone and feeling very limp by this stage, after such a trilogy of performances, however several olives and a couple of blinis with smoked salmon, sour cream and chives later and one found the strength to continue.
Part two arrived and Cheryl’s aquatic apparel clearly still had a yearning to be near water. As the delicious Dermott got the show underway, she scuttled back to her chair having satisfied her garments need to dangle it’s scaly fins over the water in the toilet bowl.
The order of performance was to be maintained throughout, so first to perform with the secret list of singing superstars (that had already been revealed in the week’s press) was Dolly. With an incredible back drop of throbbing bulbs she began the Nina Simone classic, ‘I’m Feeling Good’. Her performance was quite wonderful and when joined in the middle of the song by the gorgeous Michael Bublé, the end of the song built to a wonderful crescendo and the song was simply electric.
Next, Oily Mares. One must confess he did look rather nice in his dark suit and his turkey legs were certainly concealed by well cut fabric. A happy go lucky performance of that irritating Robbie Williams song, ‘Angels’, with the relaunching superstar in duet mode along side him. Despite having sung the song 9223 times and once in the bath, he managed to miss his cue for entry, but when he corrected himself a adequate karaoke-esque performance was provided (similar to two half-cut friends on a night out on the town and having a bit of a laugh to impress the laydeeeeeez).
One’s stunning little poppet, Joe, was centre stage next and his glorious version of ‘Don’t Let The Sun Go Down On Me’. A lava-licious background on the screens and the golden glow of the lighting only highlighted him as the ingot of precious matter he truly is. Half way through, and time for his superstar introduction … the legend that is George Michael (One squealed at his iconic magnificence). It was as if Crusty was watching a pornographic film without the sex; two delicious specimens of manhood performing in the most thrilling way and almost making one reach for a cigarette afterwards. An utterly fabulous performance!
At this point, one felt one could not take anymore. Chu Me was having to fan one briskly while replenishing one’s beverages and nibbles at the same time (A marvel at multitasking, is he not?). As one began to cool down during the commercial break, part three arrived. Could one take any more?
Stacey appeared at the back of the stage in a short bejewel outfit with short skirt and flared out train. Looking absolutely enchanting, she belted out her Queen homage, ‘Who Wants To Live Forever’. The power from her lungs was such that the resulting blast of air almost caused Dannniiiiii and Simon’s foreheads to wrinkle.
Oily repeated his Tina Turner inspired ‘Fool In Love’. Certainly better than his previous performance, though his vocals at the start were a little shaky. His now seemingly personal dance troupe – the Oily Rags – helped give a tassle-tastic last performance.
After the shaking of an Oily tail-feather, things were brought down to end on a stunning ballad sung by juicy Joe McElderry; ‘Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word’. It was an outstanding vocal interpretation, again packed with emotion and soul, so rare in one so young and gorgeous. Three songs delivered with utter perfection.
As the nation reached for the telephone, it was time for a ‘musical’ interlude with the return to stage of Robbie Williams (This time, starting on cue). Then it was results time!
Who was going to be the person to be taken from the competition on this thrilling night?
First through … Oily Mares. One’s heart was pounding as one grasped the well filled drawers of the bow-legged tall boy for support. Then … tick, tick, tick ... Joe!!!! (Good show!!!).
As we said goodbye to the lovely Stacey, Chu Me and I raised a glass of Pere Ventura Cava and toasted her fabulousness. One thinks Dermott said it best, “You’re a proper lady, Stacey!”
She most certainly is, dear! The question is, however, who will be our X Factor King on Sunday night?
Showing posts with label Dannii Minogue. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Dannii Minogue. Show all posts
Sunday, 13 December 2009
Sunday, 22 November 2009
X Factor (Week 7) - Joe McElderry Goes Supernova
With one's renewed interest in the X Factor competition, one was quite looking forward to this week’s musical mêlée. Fanny and Willy O’Dour had a night off from the Badger’s Snatch and one asked them if they would like to join Chu Me and I at Crusty Hall. They agreed.
One asked Chu Me to arrange for the Ballroom to be opened and prepared for our guests and he and chef prepared a mouth-watering selection.
Indeed, one’s mouth was drooling with anticipation at what was to come; tonight was George Michael night. When one was a young Damelette one always dreamt of sharing a cottage with the incredibly talented and handsome George … but sadly a Los Angeles police officer beat one to it and let’s be honest, a Dame of distinction is no match to a well equipped man with a handcuffs and an extending truncheon.
Anyhoo … As one’s guests and I gathered around the buffet table for some pre-competition nibbles, the delicious Dermott O’Leary took to the stage to get things underway. The doors at the rear of the stage opened and our four judges entered. Simon chose to keep his hairy cleavage and medallion covered and wore a tie; Louise gleamed as he faced the audience with a spotted dick lodged under his chin.
Danniiii wore a patchwork ensemble and Cheryl selected, what looked like, a crepe (although one is quite sure the word only has four letters … and there has never been an ‘e’ in it either) pink dress, a pair of shoes that Eliza Doolittle would have plied her trade in before meeting Professor ‘iggins and a headband resembling dear Mickey Mouse’s ears.
As we munched on our buckwheat blinis with smoked salmon and crème fraiche the contest began and first to sing to us this evening was Lloyd no-relation-to-Paul Daniels. His new hairstyle was beautifully crafted and it only helped accentuate his boyish good looks and, quite frankly, he looked lovely as he performed ‘Faith’.
One did get a shock at one point when the camera panned to Simon Cowell and he had his hand over his mouth as if he was going to vomit. Then, of course, one realised that the stage was highly polished and he had clearly caught his reflection and suffered an adverse reaction.
The delightful Stacey Solomon was to follow with her interpretation of ‘Make You Love Me’. Flanked by swaying musicians, plucking their instruments she produced a wonderful performance. She certainly had a blend of a young Babs Streisand and Celine Dion about her.
We were all enjoying the evening and one had briefly wondered why one had turned one’s back on the show … then one remembered … the Brothers Grime!
As Chu Me turned to bang his head against the wall in disbelief, Willy shouted,” Look at the pair of them! They look as camp as tits in those outfits!”
“Willy! Language!” Fanny shouted.
Looking at them in their little, tight, white suits with frigate sized sneakers, one could quite understand where Willy was coming from and told Fanny not to concern herself.
This week the twins were singing a Wham medley … badly … and in true Jedward style, the backing vocals were at such a level that they could have been singing like Dame Edna Everage and it would have sounded acceptable. One would have received more pleasure having one's fingernails ripped out without anaesthetic than one did from their performance.
After a rather fraught week, our next potential pop poppet, Danyl Johnson stood centre stage (he who has a penchant for the man-biscuit as well as the lady-trifle). No backing singers, no theatricals and no nonsense, just him and his voice. Though his earpiece forced him off tune at the start of the song, he pulled it out of his aural canal and pitch was resumed, providing a lovely few minutes in our lives.
The penultimate act of the night was Oily Mares. This week he was excited that the performance was to be “more sexy, more modern and more current”. Certainly as he stood on stage in his black jeans and black shirt there was a resemblance to a shrivelled small baking ingredient but sadly there was no more fruitiness he could muster for his version of ‘Fast Love’. At times he was as flat as a witch’s tit and - all in all - a mediocre performance was unleashed.
One had enjoyed the acts so far but there was something missing … but what was it? Then as one’s heart began pounding more rapidly beneath one’s bosom and Fanny announced, “Crusty, your cheeks are very flushed! Are you not feeling well?” It was then that one realised the last act of the night must be our South Shields stud-muffin Joe McElderry.
He took to the stage for ‘Don’t Let The Sun Go Down On Me’. Fanny and I looked at each other and screamed. Chu Me and Willy tutted and walked back to the buffet table. Juicy Joe’s interpretation of the song was incredible and he had the entire audience spellbound. As he let rip on his finale, one was over come and one’s legs buckled causing Crusty to drop towards the floor. Luckily, Fanny was there to catch me as all four judges were getting to their feet for an ovation.
As one’s dear friend cooled me with her flapping fan, all I could say in weak, whispered tones was, “oh Fanny, wasn’t he a-b-s-o-l-u-t-e-l-y awe-inspiring?”
The results show and our treat was the adorable Susan Boyle and the foof-flashing, hooter-hoisting Harpy, Mariah Scarey. The latter sang her latest over-worked offering of a Foreigner song with a million golden sperm flying around on the screen behind her … what Chu Me? … Butterflies? … Then it’s a long time since you’ve seen a butterfly, dear; one knows sperm when one sees it and trust your mistress, she was surrounded in it.”
After her high pitched whining it was down to the result and our bottom two were The Brothers Grime (hooorah!!) and Oily Mares (¡Joder! y ¡Qué sorpresa!).
Thankfully, this week there was no spineless nonsense from the judges and one must say Danniii Minge (sorry, my keyboard’s sticking) is ascending to new heights in Crusty’s estimation … she’s certainly proving to be a young woman with a lot of spunk.
Anyhoo ... The Twins were out!!!!! (Get your hat and coat’s, dears, the exit’s at the back of the stage. Don't talk to anyone and leave your dressing room key at the stage door).
One asked Chu Me to arrange for the Ballroom to be opened and prepared for our guests and he and chef prepared a mouth-watering selection.
Indeed, one’s mouth was drooling with anticipation at what was to come; tonight was George Michael night. When one was a young Damelette one always dreamt of sharing a cottage with the incredibly talented and handsome George … but sadly a Los Angeles police officer beat one to it and let’s be honest, a Dame of distinction is no match to a well equipped man with a handcuffs and an extending truncheon.
Anyhoo … As one’s guests and I gathered around the buffet table for some pre-competition nibbles, the delicious Dermott O’Leary took to the stage to get things underway. The doors at the rear of the stage opened and our four judges entered. Simon chose to keep his hairy cleavage and medallion covered and wore a tie; Louise gleamed as he faced the audience with a spotted dick lodged under his chin.
Danniiii wore a patchwork ensemble and Cheryl selected, what looked like, a crepe (although one is quite sure the word only has four letters … and there has never been an ‘e’ in it either) pink dress, a pair of shoes that Eliza Doolittle would have plied her trade in before meeting Professor ‘iggins and a headband resembling dear Mickey Mouse’s ears.
As we munched on our buckwheat blinis with smoked salmon and crème fraiche the contest began and first to sing to us this evening was Lloyd no-relation-to-Paul Daniels. His new hairstyle was beautifully crafted and it only helped accentuate his boyish good looks and, quite frankly, he looked lovely as he performed ‘Faith’.
One did get a shock at one point when the camera panned to Simon Cowell and he had his hand over his mouth as if he was going to vomit. Then, of course, one realised that the stage was highly polished and he had clearly caught his reflection and suffered an adverse reaction.
The delightful Stacey Solomon was to follow with her interpretation of ‘Make You Love Me’. Flanked by swaying musicians, plucking their instruments she produced a wonderful performance. She certainly had a blend of a young Babs Streisand and Celine Dion about her.
We were all enjoying the evening and one had briefly wondered why one had turned one’s back on the show … then one remembered … the Brothers Grime!
As Chu Me turned to bang his head against the wall in disbelief, Willy shouted,” Look at the pair of them! They look as camp as tits in those outfits!”
“Willy! Language!” Fanny shouted.
Looking at them in their little, tight, white suits with frigate sized sneakers, one could quite understand where Willy was coming from and told Fanny not to concern herself.
This week the twins were singing a Wham medley … badly … and in true Jedward style, the backing vocals were at such a level that they could have been singing like Dame Edna Everage and it would have sounded acceptable. One would have received more pleasure having one's fingernails ripped out without anaesthetic than one did from their performance.
After a rather fraught week, our next potential pop poppet, Danyl Johnson stood centre stage (he who has a penchant for the man-biscuit as well as the lady-trifle). No backing singers, no theatricals and no nonsense, just him and his voice. Though his earpiece forced him off tune at the start of the song, he pulled it out of his aural canal and pitch was resumed, providing a lovely few minutes in our lives.
The penultimate act of the night was Oily Mares. This week he was excited that the performance was to be “more sexy, more modern and more current”. Certainly as he stood on stage in his black jeans and black shirt there was a resemblance to a shrivelled small baking ingredient but sadly there was no more fruitiness he could muster for his version of ‘Fast Love’. At times he was as flat as a witch’s tit and - all in all - a mediocre performance was unleashed.
One had enjoyed the acts so far but there was something missing … but what was it? Then as one’s heart began pounding more rapidly beneath one’s bosom and Fanny announced, “Crusty, your cheeks are very flushed! Are you not feeling well?” It was then that one realised the last act of the night must be our South Shields stud-muffin Joe McElderry.
He took to the stage for ‘Don’t Let The Sun Go Down On Me’. Fanny and I looked at each other and screamed. Chu Me and Willy tutted and walked back to the buffet table. Juicy Joe’s interpretation of the song was incredible and he had the entire audience spellbound. As he let rip on his finale, one was over come and one’s legs buckled causing Crusty to drop towards the floor. Luckily, Fanny was there to catch me as all four judges were getting to their feet for an ovation.
As one’s dear friend cooled me with her flapping fan, all I could say in weak, whispered tones was, “oh Fanny, wasn’t he a-b-s-o-l-u-t-e-l-y awe-inspiring?”
The results show and our treat was the adorable Susan Boyle and the foof-flashing, hooter-hoisting Harpy, Mariah Scarey. The latter sang her latest over-worked offering of a Foreigner song with a million golden sperm flying around on the screen behind her … what Chu Me? … Butterflies? … Then it’s a long time since you’ve seen a butterfly, dear; one knows sperm when one sees it and trust your mistress, she was surrounded in it.”
After her high pitched whining it was down to the result and our bottom two were The Brothers Grime (hooorah!!) and Oily Mares (¡Joder! y ¡Qué sorpresa!).
Thankfully, this week there was no spineless nonsense from the judges and one must say Danniii Minge (sorry, my keyboard’s sticking) is ascending to new heights in Crusty’s estimation … she’s certainly proving to be a young woman with a lot of spunk.
Anyhoo ... The Twins were out!!!!! (Get your hat and coat’s, dears, the exit’s at the back of the stage. Don't talk to anyone and leave your dressing room key at the stage door).
Monday, 19 October 2009
X Factor (Week 2) - Whitney the Poo and Cheryl Too
Week 2 of the nail-biting competition exploded onto our screens on Saturday night. This week was Diva week and there were only three judges in attendance. Dear Louise was attending the funeral of his close friend, pop star Stephen Gately, so understandably he had more important things on his mind. Simon, Danniiiii Minge (sorry my keyboard’s sticking) and Cheryl y’nailed-it Cole were introduced by the delicious Dermott and took to the stage.
Dannniiiiii, dressed in a velvet curtain with a dead dragonfly squashed to side panel and Cheryl – clearly without mirror in her dressing room and dressed like a tomato - stood alongside Simon as the audience cheered to the point of seepage.
Before the battle commenced, Simon took a moment to gush with excitement (though one has no idea why) to the world that Whitney the Poo would be singing on stage in the results show. Then continuing to gush, he introduce his mentor, the man who discovered Whitney and was the most successful man in the music industry. As the camera moved right, it rested on the person in question and one was shocked … Mike Reid?? First of all, one didn’t know how he found the time to discover anyone, what with Runaround and Eastenders but one also thought he had passed away! People kept mentioning someone called Clive, but as yet one has not managed to establish who they were referring too.
First up, Lucie Jones, singing the Whitney hit, ‘How Will I Know?’
She absorbed advice from Whitney and Mike Reid and then underwent a rigorous dance routine from Yoda Friedman. The result was a marvellous performance from our little Welsh poppet.
Next on stage … Oily Mares. This week a song by the utterly uber-delicious Tina Turner: one began to get excited: ’Proud Mary’ perhaps and Ohhhhh, what a proud Mary he would make … but no! The chosen song, poppets was ‘Fool in Love’ and Crusty approved. As he sang his little heart out, Chu Me and I shook a tail-feather around the ballroom. However, one must confess one was distracted somewhat by those legs in the ill-fitting silver suit trousers; all one could think of was the legs of a Christmas turkey wrapped tightly in foil.
Miss Frank were given ‘All The Man I need’, again by Whitney the Poo although, personally, one prefers the Luther Vandross version. The performance started with all three singing a solo section as an introduction. Sadly during their journey on the train tracks of harmony, their tickets seemed to be for different destinations when they met on the centre of the platform. In the last seconds of the song, one thought for one moment one had trodden on Crotchet’s tail; there was a terrible wail, then Chu Me pointed to the screen and advised me it was one of the singers attempting the money shot. Soon after an argument erupted over the comments, between Cheryl and Simon.
“Y’ know what, Simon, It took us [Girls Aloud], like, nearly two years before we’d connected with harmonies.” Simon quickly replied with, “I’d say three!” (I’d say they’re still working at it, dear or given up trying!)
The choice for the utterly gorgeous Rachel Adedeji was a strange one; ‘If I Were A Boy’ by Beyoncé. If our bootilicious superstar couldn’t pull off this appalling song, how was sweet Rachel to manage it; yet, manage it she did and the result was certainly acceptable.
Refreshingly, our little North East angel, Joe was up on the stage next and one knew that at least one act of the evening would be worth listening to and certainly Whitney and Mike Reid were impressed. His performance was gorgisimus and his gleaming, satisfied smile lit up the whole studio. As Chu Me and I waltzed around the ballroom, one swears our feet left the floor and we were suspended only by the vibrations of his heavenly voice.
Floating back to the parquet flooring, Danyl Johnson (he who has a penchant for the man-biscuit as well as lady-trifle) was next. Simon had made special arrangements for him to sing a Whitney song that no one had ever heard of (and having heard it, I doubt whether we’ll be hearing it again, dear!)
Dannniiiii Minge (sorry, my keyboard’s sticking) thought Danyl’s performance was flawless (One won’t be sending her out to buy one’s diamonds); Cheryl agreed and Simon thought the performance was incredible (were we watching the same act, one wonders). But Mike Reid certainly enjoyed it, as he clapped enthusiastically above his shiny head as the programme went to the adverts.
Something more mellow to follow: Lloyd no-relation-to-Paul Daniels. This week his Mentor, Cheryl, gave him Leona Lewis’ biggest hit, ‘Keep Bleeding’. The tone of his voice and delivery were delightful and despite Simon Cowell’s comments, one preferred young Lloyd’s version; all that screeching and multiple key changes Miss Lewis did made one think she had a compressor attached to her rectal region.
During the judges comments, when the penny dropped inside Cheryl’s head and the echo eventually subsided some time after, she realised the song was poo. Mrs y’nailed-it Cole felt completely and totally – in her own words – “rizponscybil” . But what an absolute hero Lloyd was as he braved a hug with his mentor as the droplets of tears forced their way from her tearducts. An absolute gentleman … and there aren’t many of them about these days, poppets.
Things settled down and it was the turn of Bill and Ben (the annoying twin men) – John and Edward. This week singing the Brittle Spears hit “Oops I Did it Again”. Yoda Friedman gave them the exact same dance routine he had given Brittle in the original video (although, after several replays one was unable to find any similarity). The vocals were terrible and the bright red shiny suits...well!! During the performance the landlord of the Badger’s Snatch – Willy O’Dour – popped his head through the ballroom door and shouted through his hysterical laughter, ” The time I saw a pair of tits that red was when Fanny sunbathed topless and fell asleep in the sun for 5 hours in Benalmadena!” One thought the comment was a little crude, but on reflection chuckled at his comparison.
The dance routine was quite painful to watch, though it was nice to see the girl from the Zovirax adverts find some part time work, despite her cold sore flaring up again (but is a motorcycle helmet really an acceptable concealer?)
Anyhoo … the routine began and ended with the twins on, and grabbing hold of, one of those trolley-type-fancies made for bell ends … or is it bell boys? … well, both are equally applicable after that performance.
After Simon’s comments last week, Cannelloni had his work cut out for him and the song choice from Cheryl could not have been worse. It certainly didn’t help his “karaoke” image as one could imagine him standing in his front room with his friends lying drunk beside him, and him singing the words from his television screen. Still it was nice that the production team managed to replicate the sound of an in-home Karaoke machine for the occasion. Dannniiiii apparently saw a little of Will Young in him … but that’s really not the sort of thing we want to see on Saturday night television when there could be children watching.
Jamie Archer completely ruined the only song I have ever liked from Miss Tarty-pants, Christina Aguilera, despite attempting to heighten the sense of emotion by choosing a 12 place table cloth to hang out of his buttock pocket. As a result the CA CD (the anagram speaks volumes) was handed to Chu Me and one ordered him to shred it immediately. Why must everything the man sings be a tribute to Aerosmith?
Finally, Dolly Dagenham and what a performance! Who would have known there was a set of lungs in someone so scatter brained? Fabulous start, endurable middle and an end that nearly blew one’s tights off.
The results show arrived the following evening and Cheryl was to perform ‘live’. Enveloped in sell of clothes from 5-Star’s wardrobe, she took to the stage and screeched her little lungs out. Whether ‘live’, pre-recorded, a little of both (Down, Danyl!!) she certainly achieved the affect one had expected; indeed, one’s ears have only stopped bleeding this morning. One searched all available sources to find the telephone number one had to call to have her voted off but to no avail. Instead, one sent a quick email to the television company.
After the tortuous foreplay, the real agony followed. Whitney the Poo, complete with sequinned frock that had not had time to be taken up, precariously clattered down the stairs at the rear of the stage to sing her repetitive new release. A little dancing, a little strutting, dress straps exploding from the bodice, a little crack in her voice and it was over. Crusty got the impression that the production company were thinking the same as her, when one saw the dollar bills flying all over the stage; as if someone in authority had said, “just throw the fee at her and hopefully she’ll go home.” As delicious Dermott approached her she turned and took a step back as if to question who this person was that dared walk towards her (someone who has sustained a successful career, dear! Pull up a chair and take notes).
Then the results ... and Cannelloni was on his way back over the border; the twins had been saved again … oh joy! That aside one cannot understand why the gorgeous British public are putting the stunning Rachel in the bottom each week; a sentiment that was echoed in the follow up show when Holly Wobbley and guests were equally perplexed.
Dannniiiiii, dressed in a velvet curtain with a dead dragonfly squashed to side panel and Cheryl – clearly without mirror in her dressing room and dressed like a tomato - stood alongside Simon as the audience cheered to the point of seepage.
Before the battle commenced, Simon took a moment to gush with excitement (though one has no idea why) to the world that Whitney the Poo would be singing on stage in the results show. Then continuing to gush, he introduce his mentor, the man who discovered Whitney and was the most successful man in the music industry. As the camera moved right, it rested on the person in question and one was shocked … Mike Reid?? First of all, one didn’t know how he found the time to discover anyone, what with Runaround and Eastenders but one also thought he had passed away! People kept mentioning someone called Clive, but as yet one has not managed to establish who they were referring too.
First up, Lucie Jones, singing the Whitney hit, ‘How Will I Know?’
She absorbed advice from Whitney and Mike Reid and then underwent a rigorous dance routine from Yoda Friedman. The result was a marvellous performance from our little Welsh poppet.
Next on stage … Oily Mares. This week a song by the utterly uber-delicious Tina Turner: one began to get excited: ’Proud Mary’ perhaps and Ohhhhh, what a proud Mary he would make … but no! The chosen song, poppets was ‘Fool in Love’ and Crusty approved. As he sang his little heart out, Chu Me and I shook a tail-feather around the ballroom. However, one must confess one was distracted somewhat by those legs in the ill-fitting silver suit trousers; all one could think of was the legs of a Christmas turkey wrapped tightly in foil.
Miss Frank were given ‘All The Man I need’, again by Whitney the Poo although, personally, one prefers the Luther Vandross version. The performance started with all three singing a solo section as an introduction. Sadly during their journey on the train tracks of harmony, their tickets seemed to be for different destinations when they met on the centre of the platform. In the last seconds of the song, one thought for one moment one had trodden on Crotchet’s tail; there was a terrible wail, then Chu Me pointed to the screen and advised me it was one of the singers attempting the money shot. Soon after an argument erupted over the comments, between Cheryl and Simon.
“Y’ know what, Simon, It took us [Girls Aloud], like, nearly two years before we’d connected with harmonies.” Simon quickly replied with, “I’d say three!” (I’d say they’re still working at it, dear or given up trying!)
The choice for the utterly gorgeous Rachel Adedeji was a strange one; ‘If I Were A Boy’ by Beyoncé. If our bootilicious superstar couldn’t pull off this appalling song, how was sweet Rachel to manage it; yet, manage it she did and the result was certainly acceptable.
Refreshingly, our little North East angel, Joe was up on the stage next and one knew that at least one act of the evening would be worth listening to and certainly Whitney and Mike Reid were impressed. His performance was gorgisimus and his gleaming, satisfied smile lit up the whole studio. As Chu Me and I waltzed around the ballroom, one swears our feet left the floor and we were suspended only by the vibrations of his heavenly voice.
Floating back to the parquet flooring, Danyl Johnson (he who has a penchant for the man-biscuit as well as lady-trifle) was next. Simon had made special arrangements for him to sing a Whitney song that no one had ever heard of (and having heard it, I doubt whether we’ll be hearing it again, dear!)
Dannniiiii Minge (sorry, my keyboard’s sticking) thought Danyl’s performance was flawless (One won’t be sending her out to buy one’s diamonds); Cheryl agreed and Simon thought the performance was incredible (were we watching the same act, one wonders). But Mike Reid certainly enjoyed it, as he clapped enthusiastically above his shiny head as the programme went to the adverts.
Something more mellow to follow: Lloyd no-relation-to-Paul Daniels. This week his Mentor, Cheryl, gave him Leona Lewis’ biggest hit, ‘Keep Bleeding’. The tone of his voice and delivery were delightful and despite Simon Cowell’s comments, one preferred young Lloyd’s version; all that screeching and multiple key changes Miss Lewis did made one think she had a compressor attached to her rectal region.
During the judges comments, when the penny dropped inside Cheryl’s head and the echo eventually subsided some time after, she realised the song was poo. Mrs y’nailed-it Cole felt completely and totally – in her own words – “rizponscybil” . But what an absolute hero Lloyd was as he braved a hug with his mentor as the droplets of tears forced their way from her tearducts. An absolute gentleman … and there aren’t many of them about these days, poppets.
Things settled down and it was the turn of Bill and Ben (the annoying twin men) – John and Edward. This week singing the Brittle Spears hit “Oops I Did it Again”. Yoda Friedman gave them the exact same dance routine he had given Brittle in the original video (although, after several replays one was unable to find any similarity). The vocals were terrible and the bright red shiny suits...well!! During the performance the landlord of the Badger’s Snatch – Willy O’Dour – popped his head through the ballroom door and shouted through his hysterical laughter, ” The time I saw a pair of tits that red was when Fanny sunbathed topless and fell asleep in the sun for 5 hours in Benalmadena!” One thought the comment was a little crude, but on reflection chuckled at his comparison.
The dance routine was quite painful to watch, though it was nice to see the girl from the Zovirax adverts find some part time work, despite her cold sore flaring up again (but is a motorcycle helmet really an acceptable concealer?)
Anyhoo … the routine began and ended with the twins on, and grabbing hold of, one of those trolley-type-fancies made for bell ends … or is it bell boys? … well, both are equally applicable after that performance.
After Simon’s comments last week, Cannelloni had his work cut out for him and the song choice from Cheryl could not have been worse. It certainly didn’t help his “karaoke” image as one could imagine him standing in his front room with his friends lying drunk beside him, and him singing the words from his television screen. Still it was nice that the production team managed to replicate the sound of an in-home Karaoke machine for the occasion. Dannniiiii apparently saw a little of Will Young in him … but that’s really not the sort of thing we want to see on Saturday night television when there could be children watching.
Jamie Archer completely ruined the only song I have ever liked from Miss Tarty-pants, Christina Aguilera, despite attempting to heighten the sense of emotion by choosing a 12 place table cloth to hang out of his buttock pocket. As a result the CA CD (the anagram speaks volumes) was handed to Chu Me and one ordered him to shred it immediately. Why must everything the man sings be a tribute to Aerosmith?
Finally, Dolly Dagenham and what a performance! Who would have known there was a set of lungs in someone so scatter brained? Fabulous start, endurable middle and an end that nearly blew one’s tights off.
The results show arrived the following evening and Cheryl was to perform ‘live’. Enveloped in sell of clothes from 5-Star’s wardrobe, she took to the stage and screeched her little lungs out. Whether ‘live’, pre-recorded, a little of both (Down, Danyl!!) she certainly achieved the affect one had expected; indeed, one’s ears have only stopped bleeding this morning. One searched all available sources to find the telephone number one had to call to have her voted off but to no avail. Instead, one sent a quick email to the television company.
After the tortuous foreplay, the real agony followed. Whitney the Poo, complete with sequinned frock that had not had time to be taken up, precariously clattered down the stairs at the rear of the stage to sing her repetitive new release. A little dancing, a little strutting, dress straps exploding from the bodice, a little crack in her voice and it was over. Crusty got the impression that the production company were thinking the same as her, when one saw the dollar bills flying all over the stage; as if someone in authority had said, “just throw the fee at her and hopefully she’ll go home.” As delicious Dermott approached her she turned and took a step back as if to question who this person was that dared walk towards her (someone who has sustained a successful career, dear! Pull up a chair and take notes).
Then the results ... and Cannelloni was on his way back over the border; the twins had been saved again … oh joy! That aside one cannot understand why the gorgeous British public are putting the stunning Rachel in the bottom each week; a sentiment that was echoed in the follow up show when Holly Wobbley and guests were equally perplexed.
Saturday, 31 January 2009
Is the Party Over For Danniiiiiii?
It was late last night and Crusty was sitting in the bar, adjacent to the ballroom, flitting through the cyber pages of the internet on one's laptop.I had a jug full of Gin, a bowl full of olives, a roaring fire and my usual newsreader nightwear on...all the things a girl needs for a lazy night in.
My faithful houseboy, Chu Me, had retired to his quarters early to watch one of his specialist nature programs on Sky; this time Dirty Vixens - somethings about foxes one would imagine.
Suddenly in the silence of Crusty Hall my fingers landed on something that made me let out a joyous squeal; reports have suggested that Dannnniiiiiii Minge (sorry my keyboard's sticking) may be fired from the next series of X-Factor. It would appear Miss Tupperware-face herself is getting on other peoples nerves, as well as Crusty's.
It all hinges on whether the lovely Simon Cowell can find someone suitable to replace her before the next auditions start.
Mr. Cowell, Dame Crusty has cleared her diary and is at your disposal, dear!
Sunday, 21 December 2008
Dannii - Fan of Formula One
I noticed those lovely people at my new bible for gossip, Closer, have given Danniiiiii Minge (sorry, my keyboard's sticking) her very own column - actually, it's a full page in this issue but in fairness the majority of the page is covered by pictures.
One of those pictures is of Danniiiii sitting on the side of a Formula 1 racing car, quite animate from the top lip down, and a small piece to the side, telling us what a fan of the sport she is.
Show Crusty a picture of you flying over the bonnet, dear, then you will have grabbed my interest!
One of those pictures is of Danniiiii sitting on the side of a Formula 1 racing car, quite animate from the top lip down, and a small piece to the side, telling us what a fan of the sport she is.
Show Crusty a picture of you flying over the bonnet, dear, then you will have grabbed my interest!
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