October 9, 2010 § Leave a comment
I dip in and out of ‘the modern dance’ and I don’t mean Pere Ubu’s debut EP. I mean general pop-culture, the conveyer belt culture of talent; plastic and fraudulent faces gawping back at me from the television screen. Home Grown Talent, thank heavens!
The demented people who watch this show are fucking idiots, the people involved with this monstrosity are fucking idiots and the four, thick talent-less judges are cunt’s who don’t deserve oxygen never mind wealth. Each deserves to be dragged into a filthy toilet cubicle and beaten a-la Cheryl Cole style (more about that Geordie lout later).
There is no redemption, at least from my eye-level, for those who are willing to jump through Cowell’s haemorrhoidal ring. Especially considering that prostitution is a far more noble profession and doesn’t involve guzzling down a twat’s worm-like secretions (mostly anyway). It also has the added bonus of longevity, outlasting the toxic twelve week period in which aborted X-Factor foetuses survive away from their glass-jar and Simon Cowell’s 2-inch feeding tube.
I didn’t know any of their names before a google search, but that doesn’t matter… As long as the typical categories have been constructed for our supposed amusement;
There’s the fat woman, Mary Bryne, who looks like a Gregg’s shop assistant. I feel quite mean about typing that… But I am listening to Van Morrison, Astral Weeks, that’s my excuse.
The dim middleclass girl, Katie Waissel (exotic!), whose jaw seems to betray her gender and who seems to be posing as Mr Cowell’s personal and unaffected transvestite.
The cold face of desperation, Storm Lee (need I say more?) the American equivalent of a Butlin’s redcoat without the refined acting skills (see Alfie Moon). We all like to see an ironic American laughed at though…
A teasing teenage jailbait character, Cher Lloyd (17-years-old); an expert at mangling moronic American ‘gangsta’ culture with her own mild Worcestershire upbringing. Her forehead resembles the crinkled scrotum of a middle-aged man; her consistently shifting frown-lines are used tactically to distract us from her alarmingly pug-like features. Special Move: Reminding me of the shaky feline I see sipping Red Bull from discarded cans on my estate (council, not country).
The egregious but excitable, Wagner (pronounced “vag-ner”), resembles a hyperactive pirate turned Kebab shop owner… My personal favourite because I can blame mental illness for his involvement and maybe get a veggie kebab combo in the same transaction. Exudes happiness & warmth.
Belle Amie (Oooh La La! GCSE French at play). Reminds me of the proper irritating girls that you’d still sleep with. Y’see them about town all the time, short skirts, peroxide hair, Topman attire and a perfected pubic region (I think it’s called pubic topiary).
Nicolo Festa, professional TWAT. Johnny Foreigner. In my experience most X-Factor watchers are Daily Mail readers. This explains intelligence levels, but what’s most intriguing about this is that if this male was a hard-working builder he’d be an enemy of this fraternity, but set upon a shit ‘reality’ tv show and he’s James Dean reincarnate. Odd. Let’s all hope this ends in a car-crash. And I don’t mean that figuratively.
Some might say my pondering is AD HOMINEM and therefore useless (click for definition, see I’m helpful ‘n’ not condesending). But if you hold the belief, as I, that music is an important self-expression then ad hominem is of paramount importance. Simply put. If an idiot sings then he/she is expressing and emitting rays of idiocy and when these idiotic rays exude it usually ends up smothered in Cowell bodily fluid. Juicy.