Simon Cowell Takes The Pith Over Cheryl

One was reclining elegantly on the leather sofa in Litten’s – the oak panelled bar at Crusty Hall – perusing the interwebular, while Chu Me prepared a rather delightful gin at the bar.

By chance, one came across an article by Jack White on the Closeronline site, which provided very little interest but, nevertheless, one read the words within. The story related to the relationship between Simon when-I-walk-I-can’t-move-my-arms Cowell and Cheryl y’nailed-it Cole.

One must admit one’s interest was poked, a smidgen, when one got past the rather poor grammar of the article and discovered that ageing mogul had taken Cheryl out to dinner before “offering her a chance to appear on the X Factor judge again”. Good Lord! It’s one thing for her to appear on the judging panel but we don’t want to see her on top of him, riding him like sweaty cowboy on prime time television!

Simon praised Cheryl’s ability to stay in the public eye (while the rest of a nation, one suspects, condemned and cursed her ability to do the very same thing).

“She’s still in the papers …”(so’s the piece of cod I bought from the fish shop next to the Badger’s Snatch last Tuesday, dear) … “that’s the interesting thing about her”  …(like the cod, it’s probably the only interesting thing).

He also claims that, having not been on our screen for three years if she so much as peels an orange, she’s in the papers. (Now that is just taking the pith!).

Anyhoo … Simon makes it quite clear that their relationship is strong (should anyone out there be shallow enough to care)

Simon says, “We need each other.” (Isn't it normally, “… put your right hand on your head”?)

One must say that brings one question into one’s own mind … “Yes, dear, but do we need either of you?” One fears not.

X-Factor (week 10) – The Final part 1.

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?

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.

X Factor (Week 4) - What a Malarkey!

This week the nation was to be subjected to Rock Week. Due to the very nature of the genre, Crusty opted not to use the Ballroom to enjoy this stage of the competition. Naturally, one didn’t want such powerful vibrations rattling though one’s crystal chandeliers. So, instead, one settled oneself in the Drawing Room.

Simon and Louise were – as always – dapperly dressed in black suits with their poppies poignantly placed in their button holes.

Dannnniiiiiii Minge (sorry my keyboard’s sticking) opted for a full length gown with an over-locked slit up the side of the skirtal area and a bare shoulder brazenly being displayed. Sadly, she appeared not to have hung her balls in the closet and, as a result, a flutter of moths had stopped off to feast on the glittering fabric; there were holes munched out of the entire area located north of the waistline.

Cheryl – by no means an icon of fashion – chose an utterly ridiculous black mini affair accessorised with a pair of Simon’s thigh length, poly-blend winter socks. The garment was extremely tight and highly inappropriate but – whether by luck or by good management – she managed to find time to stop by a Spanish funeral and pinch two of the lady-mourner’s abanicos (fans) and glue them to her hooters in order to finish the ensemble.

Just as one thought one wouldn’t enjoy an hour and three quarters of ‘Rock’, one’s heart was lifted above the clouds when one’s South Shields Sexpot, Joe McElderry was introduced. One dug one’s fingernails into Chu Me’s arms and screamed until the Royal Worcester collection rattled in its display cabinet. As one saw him gyrating away on one’s 32 incher, he certainly managed to rock one’s box, I can tell you, despite a pair of lead-hoofed dancers flinging themselves around behind him.

Lucie Jones metamorphosised into a vixen from the valleys this week, to give us Guns ‘n’ Roses ‘Sweet Child of Mine’. She stormed around the glitterlicious stage like a true rock princess. Cheryl was certainly impressed and as she gave her comments her voice reached harpy-esque levels only the canine world could hear.

The third rocker of the night was Danyl Johnson (he who has a penchant for man-biscuit as well as lady-trifle). Danyl had a bit of a blow last week (but not in that way) after finding himself in the bottom two. Crusty was outraged, however, that our gorgeous puppy-eyed pop-hopeful had been branded more hated than Hitler by our nation’s media. This is absolute nonsense when there are people like Jan Moir (the manly-shouldered Daily Mail ‘journalist’ with the broad facial expanse of a Bull Mastiff), Peter Peggy-on-a-Sunday Mandelson and Nick Griffin.

Yoda Friedman offered Danyl his support during the week of rehearsals – for what that was worth - and as Danyl took to centre stage it was as if he had walked into the newsagents of music but all his notes were placed on the top shelf and, despite valiant efforts, he was just a little too short to reach them. All in all, he seemed lost. One feels we need a Hi-NRG week: get Danyl to sing an Eartha Kitt number in a pair of sequined black budgie-smugglers and one is quite sure his popularity would be resurrected.

Next we saw Lloyd no-relation-to-Paul Daniels sitting centre stage on a golden throne, singing Kate Perry’s ‘I Kissed A Girl’. As he performed it, it seemed his entire epidermal expanse was covered with lipstick kisses and at one point a cheeky little dancing minx appeared to grab his crotchal area. Thankfully the protection of his denimwear protected him and a shocked slip into a high C was avoided.

Danniiiii thought his voice was drowned out by the track and one thought what a shame the track wasn’t playing when she was giving us her opinion. What a boon that would have been!

Dolly Dagenham was contestant number 5; This week Yoda used his creative skills to give Stacey a choreographed routine to satisfy Simon. However, as her glorious voice pierced the aural canals of the audience, we discovered Yoda’s routine comprised of her putting one foot in front of the other … walking, in actual fact!

Jamie Archer wanted to give something a little special and not the normal pub-rocker performance. At the last minute, however, nerves must have got the better of him and it was the latter that he delivered. As he ‘got his rocks off’ in front of the audience, one noticed the return of the table cloth hanging from his buttock pocket and wondered how many more he could possibly have to display from his rectal region.

For some inexplicable reason Dannnniiiiiiiiii decided to bring the tempo down for the delicious Rachel Adedeji this week. A dreadful song choice – U2’s ‘One Love’ – which Rachel managed to salvage with her fabulous vocal interpretation; a soulful sea of sumptuousness, one must say.

Then, one was troubled as one prepared oneself for the next act. One could hear the music but for some reason – as one banged the remote control against one’s bow-legged tall boy – one appeared to be watching David Attenborough’s ‘Life’ and footage of two Giant Pandas. As one wondered where they had hidden their bamboo canes, Chu Me informed me it was, in reality, the Brothers Grime on screen.

As the leather-clad Pop-Pandas stomped around the stage, frantically grasping for a note they could hit, one noticed the arc of flames at the back of the stage and the bursts of fire shooting out from the front. It was then one realised one was in Hell.

During her comments, Danniiiiii revealed she looked forward to seeing the twins each week (try carrying a photo, dear!) and when the delicious Dermott asked how they were coping with the bad press, they told us they just took it on the chin (Chu Me! One’s boxing gloves and a horseshoe, if you please!).

Our final performance of the evening was the broad-shouldered Oily Mares. Yoda had concerns about his timidity, but as he took to the stage, with his muscular, manly shoulders straining against his denim shirt and his legs flapping about in his Marcel Marceau tribute pants, his performance of a Beatles classic was quite superb. Though, one doesn’t know if Oily has the X Factor, when he ripped open his shirt to expose his pectoral plane, he certainly developed the Oooohhh Factor here at Crusty Hall.

The result on the following day surely came as a blow to the entire nation. Chi Chi and Chan Chan got through and it was the lovely Lloyd and raunchy Rachel who were to face the judges decision to eliminate. Lloyd tried his best during the sing-off, despite a sore throat and croaking in the middle of his lines, while Rachel sang sublimely. However, although Simon had the deciding vote and had not been greatly impressed with Lloyd since the start, he put the vote to the public and it was good-bye Rachel!! What on earth is going on?!

One is now of the opinion the whole malarkey is becoming ridiculous and is proving to be only on our screen to generate money for the Cowell empire and not to give Her Majesty’s realm a true talent to proudly hold to its bosom.

This is a talent competition ! We are to find someone who can blow one’s tights off ! Trust Crusty's wisdom when one tells you the Dung Poo Pandas do not fall into that category.

X Factor (Week 3) - Westlife and Big Band Bublé

Last Saturday night, Chu Me and the household staff made the preparations in the ballroom for the 3rd instalment of X-Factor; nibbles were placed in the bar adjoining the ballroom and the glitter ball was twisting at a satisfactory velocity.

Tonight, the lovely Louise was returning after his two week absence following the tragic and untimely death of little pop poppet, Stephen Gately. And what a miss he was.

The theme for this week was Big Band. Songs from the glittering showrooms of Las Vegas and the vocal chords of greats such as Dean Martin, Frank Sinatra, Ella Fitzgerald and Sammy Davis Jr. The gorgisimus Michael Bublé was holding the master classes for week 3, so our hopefuls were in very safe hands.

The judges were well turned out. In particular Simon and Louise. Cheryl y’nailed-it Cole - for once - wore an outfit that looked like a dress and not the pieces of fruit and lampwear she had opted for in previous weeks; sadly, the effect was spoilt by rather scraggy hair. The hairstylist behind the scenes, clearly giving up at the very last minute, simply placed a giant glittering clamp to the side of her head.

Dannniiii Minge (sorry, my keyboard’s sticking) went for a costume appropriate for Big Band night and successfully managed to look like someone born in the 1930s, though one feels the dress was surplus to requirements.

First to entertain the nation ... Oily Mares. 'Bewitched' was a wonderful song choice to start off the evening. Two witches moved in time to the music, but thankfully managed to get their breaths back before giving their comments. Oily certainly had a ball and relaxed totally throughout his performance.

Lloyd no-relation-to-Paul Daniels followed on with one of Crusty’s all time favourites; 'Fly Me To The Moon'. His soothing tones were quite wonderful and as he performed a back flip - like a well dressed Ninja – one squealed with delight and applauded his athletic prowess.

Louise wasn’t at all impress with the back flip but on a positive note, began with, “If I was doing a boy band in the morning I’d sign you up…”, (If you were ‘doing’ a boy band in the morning, dear, one suspects you’d need plenty of stamina, a party pack of condoms and a bottle of mouthwash!).

Miss Frank gave us their modernised attitude-filled version of 'That’s Life' and for the first time in the competition their voices were as harmonious as a Chav with a Burberry baseball cap. One was put off slightly when Graziella started rapping, but a few lines in and one was quite taken with the addition to the arrangement.

After having to suffer the first two weeks in the bottom two, one was concerned about Rachel Adedeji. The poor poppet had been devastated. However, one thinks a lot of her problems were down to poor song choice from her mentor, Dannniiiiii Minge (sorry, my keyboard’s sticking). One needn’t have worried; she took to the stage with her hair down and adorned in sparkling glitterati and began to trumpet out 'Proud Mary'. As Crusty reproduced the famous Tina Turner dance routine in the ballroom – kitchen staff as one’s dance troupe – one marvelled at the power of Miss Adedeji’s voice. Quite outstanding!

Jamie Aerosmith Archer followed with an outrageous U2 song!! U2?!! One would support Louise one hundred percent; it was Big Band week and a time to let rip with some of the classics of yesteryear, not to pick a song and simply stick a big band behind it.

Was it Sinatra? No: was it Vegas? No: as for swinging … what our internationally famous anti-poverty popsters get up to in their personal lives is not of one’s concern. On a positive note there was no sign of table cloths or over sized handkerchiefs hanging from his buttocks, so that was a boon.

A lively debate erupted between Louise and Simon, which ended with Simon jibing,”I don’t think you’re in a position to say anything with the two little horrors that are coming up next.” A shiver went down one’s spine and dispersed through one’s downstairs area as one thought Dannniiiiiii and Cheryl were to perform a duet, but then realised Simon was referring to the Brothers Grime.

With Dolly Dagenham, one had thought a Barbara Streisand number would be appropriate; a nice show tune. However, her mentor thought something different and we were given 'When You Wish Upon a Star'. Looking utterly gorgeous in her full length frock and advertising a figure any woman would stop eating chips for, she sang her little heart out to her son – Zach - across the televisual waves. Generally, her remarks were good, however Simon began on a negative note, “You looked better than you sounded, tonight.” (Mirror for Mr Cowell!).

Danyl Johnson (he who has a penchant for man-biscuit as well as lady-trifle) overdid his performance somewhat. One gets the impression he knows he had the X-Factor some years ago and is merely going through the motion until he gets his lapel badge and gilded certificate

Then delicious Dermott introduced the next contestant and one clapped one’s hands rapidly and squealed with excitement. Indeed, one found it quite a holy moment; as if a musical Moses had come to a sea of melodic mediocrity and moved his hands to part its waves to reveal? … One’s little Geordie poppet …Joe McElderry. Enveloped in a gorgeous double-breasted suit, he performed the classic 'Sway' superbly. His vocal vibrations rippled across one’s velvety flesh like iced water and one was forced to sit down during the audience’s ecstatic applause and grab hold of one's fan.

Lucie Jones was our penultimate act and deliciously sang 'My Funny Valentine' in a striking red dress. Her emotion, for one so young, was simply exquisite.

Then, the moment the nation had been dreading. It was the Brothers Grime; John and Edward. This week singing the Big Band (?) number 'She Bangs'. Sadly their pre-pubescent maturity, or lack thereof, did not allow them to comprehend the meaning of the song fully. However, that didn’t seem to matter as they gave a totally inexcusable performance anyway. One suspects the uberlicious Ricki Martin was selling the rights to the song as the performance stretched out. It is quite clear that these two do not even have Max Factor, let alone the X Factor!

Needless to say, the following night – on the results show – the British public voted for Bill and Ben (the annoying twin men) to go through to the following week. Corseted Miss Frank and overdone Danyl were subjected to the public vote and it was good-bye Miss Frank.

Heaven only knows what will happen next week!

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.

X Factor 2009 - Week 1; The Competition is Afoot.

Well, the X Factor competition for 2009 has finally got under way; On Saturday 10th October the stage was set and was festooned with illuminata; lots of flashing lights and such fancy and the 12 finalists were, I’m quite sure, waiting nervously behind the scenes preparing themselves to come out and perform to the nation. Week one was evidently a cloaked homage to Robbie I’m-a-Cheeky-Chappy Williams and why not … he managed to turn up after all, so why not churn out a few of his ditties as if they were classics.

The four judges made a special effort for the first show, although one feels the ladies slightly over did things. Danniiiiii Minge (sorry my keyboard’s sticking) was wrapped in a relatively sobre number for her, though her hair seemed to possess a pair of handles for some reason; one certainly noticed more animation in the upper quadrant of her eyebrow expanse so perhaps these handles were a safety device should facial droopage occur; one quick hoist and normality would be restored.

Cheryl y’-nailed-it Cole decided on something gold with an opened umbrella merged into the skirtal section. At first, one thought she had raided the front lavatory at Crusty Hall - where one has an equally plastic doll dressed in something similar covering the spare roll of toilet paper - however, having sent Chu Me immediately to check, one found she must have actually bought it herself.

There were brief words uttered from the long running Creative Director of the show, Brian Friedman; one is rather mystified by this creative little poppet; with each new series the man looks more like the Star Wars character Yoda - particularly when dressed in a hoody and a pair of leg warmers.

Anyhoo … the finalists’ time had come.

First to take the stage, the ravishingly gorgeous Rachel Adedeji. Like a 21st Century Adeva she took to a Perspex-staired box in vertigolicious heels and belted out the Robbie Williams “classic” Let Me Entertain You and entertain us she did. A delightful performance with only one criticism from Simon Cowell; “Your makeup is horrible”. Constructive criticism indeed for such a talent show; one never knew the contestants had to have a year’s work experience on the makeup counter at Boots before auditioning.

Kandy Rain followed with Addicted to Love and one has to say, one has a bit of a soft spot for this spirited foursome. However, comments of rancid poison spouted forth from Danniiiiii Minge (sorry my keyboard’s sticking) and Cheryl y’nailed it Cole; “Y’ say yus are tryin t’ leeev y’ past b’hind yus- like - then y’s come oot heea dressin’- like - al prov-oc-a-tive-ly!” (one could almost see her little fingers counting the syllables under the table). One found it all quite ironic in a way; here we had two judges who had no talent but managed to look like strippers and then four actual strippers who managed to have talent … it really is quite ying and yang, is it not?

Never mind, as one sat back and lifted one's glass of gin from the bow-legged tallboy by one’s side it was time for the next act. This time Oily Mares, singing She’s the One; another ££Ching! for Mr. Williams. A very acceptable delivery, in his own style. He’s such a warm and friendly person, Robbie took to Oily immediately and a coffee was to be shared after the show (time to buy a new hat, me thinks!).

Cannelloni – our little persistent Scot made a valiant effort singing Amy Winehouse’s Back to Black but as he stood in front of the judges with the silly Bill-and-Ben-esque hat on his oversized cranium, one thought one was going to be sold a second hand car so lost one's interest.

Stacey Solomon did Dagenham proud and though she may be able to talk the hind legs off a donkey she still has an utterly fabulous voice despite singing a Coldplay song.

Miss Frank – three little poppets flung together in the name of creativity – were next with the Michael Jackson song Who’s loving You and were rather splendid. As he lay back in his chair, Simon was very rude and called the two taller ladies ‘bookends’; well, I suppose his experience of bookends would be infinite having spent so much time with Sinitta (she apparently has a big red GTO … quite frankly, it wouldn’t surprise me with that one!).

Jamie Archer performed adequately although one is tiring slightly of the rather long handkerchief hanging out of his back pocket.

Lloyd no-relation-to-Paul Daniels sang Cry Me A River. When one heard it one thought, “That sounds nothing like Dinah Washington!”, but Chu Me advised me that it was the Justin Timberlake song. Dear, sweet, gorgeous Lloyd was afraid about hitting the high notes but one thinks he managed quite admirably bearing in mind he’s at that age where the bean bags of youth will no doubt have started to drop in his downstairs area. North East intellectual Cheryl y’nailed-it Cole exclaimed over a screaming studio audience, “ Y’ ganna have a lot o’ girls cryin’ a lotta rivas owa yee” (well one suspects there will be an element of over moistness from fan's smitten apertures)

Lucie Jones – recently descended from the hills of Wales - sang a “great pop song” by Leona Lewis; in actual fact it was a mediocre pop song by one of Simon’s signings. Cheryl gave the benefit of her musical wisdom, “Y’ have t' be really brayuv t’ tackle Leona.” (Give Crusty a pair of rugby boots, dear and she’ll give it a try!). Needless to say, fabulous voice although the “great song” was slightly poo.

John & Edward provided an ideal opportunity for a visit to the lavatory. Really! The gorgeous Gok Wan can carry off a saggy crotched pair of trousers, but really on ones so young and annoying it will surely only lead to ASBOs.

The North East’s little Cherub, Joe McElderry, was sublime. Gorgeous teeth, delightfully attired, skin as soft as a velvet mitten and the effortless voice of an angel; quite the little stud-muffin who caused immensely pleasurably tingles in one’s downstairs area throughout his entire performance.

Danyl Johnson ended the show and was practically outed by Dannnniiiiii Minge (sorry my keyboard is sticking). This vile attack was following a story in the News of the World where Danyl had admitted his liked a munch of the heavenly man-biscuit as well a little lady-trifle. Well, he looks the type … with those smouldering looks and puppy eyes, he could take his pick, I’m sure.

Despite everyone thinking the Devil’s children would be voted off first, the British public voted off Kandy Rain; now, we have to endure the duo all over again next week.

To make matter worse, Delicious Dermott announced Cheryl will be singing live on week 2’s show (err, let’s wait and see, shall we?); Also, Whitney-the-Poo will be singing her latest offering… honestly, if the producers don't want one to watch, all they have to do is say!

Let the battle continue ...

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.

X Factor Returns - The Competition is Afoot!

Well, my poppets, the contest is afoot and the X Factor has returned to our screens! Despite pleas from many quarters, it appears there is to be no change in the tired old judging panel (excluding the lovely Louise Walsh, of course).

In our second instalment, we saw a medley of outfits being worn by the female judges. One in particular caught Crusty’s eye. A creation flung on by Cheryl y’nailed-it Cole, which resembled something she could have ripped off an 86 year old pensioner as she was leaving her Tuesday night Bingo meet (the pensioner, not Mrs Cole); a paisley type affair with burgundy ruffles around neck and arm apertures. Quite bizarre, I can tell you! One has read articles written about our Geordie clotheshorse – by those who know no better - telling us how she dresses in a very ‘chic’ style; on scanning one’s keyboard, one can see how easily this typo can occur when the ‘C’ is so very close to the ‘S’ and the ‘T’.

Louise, thankfully looked very relaxed – one worries about him, you know? Simon, was…well … Simon and I do believe Dannniiiii Minge (sorry, my keyboard’s sticking) was leaking bollocks ….(thank you, Chu Me!) …. B-o-t-o-x!

I know, one could hardly believe one’s eyes; one is convinced that at some stage of the proceedings two wrinkle lines appeared above her right eye brow as she attempted some unrecognisable facial expression.

Anyhoo … there have been some very interesting contestants so far. In particular, the trio of beauties known as Misfits singing their version of Brittle Spears’ ‘Toxic’; Having seen poor Brittle in live performances of the song, I had always had a desire to see lyrics and lips synchronize in harmony but never quite managed it with Brittle. Misfits satisfied one’s curiosity and their audition was magnificent. Crusty would not be at all surprised if they go all the way.

We shall see how the rest of the auditions go but one has to say, one is quite excited about this years competition.