The X-Factor final was a mess of epic proportions.
So if you are one of the unlucky ones who happened to tune in the finale of the X-Factor without a bottle of wine in hand then you have my sincere sympathy, because the only thing that could have made that fucked up mess watchable was the pleasure of intoxication and the subsequent fantasies of chucking the empty bottle at Gary Barlow on stage and seeing him fall off his piano at the end.
Another year, another series of tragic nobodies who for three months, believe they are the hottest shit in the universe, and in two weeks, will learn what happens when you flush a hot shit down the pan when you’re done.
The saddest part of the X-Factor is that contestants Sam and Nicholas were basically lost in a turbulent cyclone of fuckery that upstaged them at every juncture. A pub singer and a schoolboy didn’t stand a chance from the towering clusterfuck of egos spinning around them throughout.
Where to start with this absolute catastrophe? Well let’s start with the duration….
IT WAS FUCKING LONG AS FUCK.
This shit was longer than all of the Lord of the Rings Extended Edition’s played together in slow motion. At this rate the next finale will be held over the period of 2 weeks. I literally stopped counting ad breaks at #13.
To the producer who thinks that we really need to see a re-cap of the story of Sam Bailey (Chubby Prison Officer Mum comes good, loses weight, has an old gran.) and Nicholas McDonald (Scottish boy with some kind of syndrome) – WE HAVE SEEN SO MANY RECAPS OF THEIR SOB STORIES OVER THE PAST THREE MONTHS THAT I KNOW THEIR LIVES BETTER THAN MY FUCKING OWN. STOP THAT NOW.
Dermot O’Leary is a pretty winning presenter, but I wanted to rip his balls off by the end of the night. You have to feel bad for a guy who single handedly has to try and prop up the weight of a bloated cashgrab that goes on forever, like an upmarket GEMS TV salesman in a skinny suit.
ONE DIRECTION, AGAIN.
So 1Ds joyless performance may have seemed familiar, because we’ve already had a One Direction appearance this year. And a Katy Perry appearance too. Which is a whole other story which we’ll get to, but seriously is no one else sick as shit of one direction being EVERYWHERE yet? Producers obviously struggling to get stars in when they have to re-use a Simon Cowell inhouse band.
KATY PERRY’S LIVE SINGING.
Katy Perry did her part for the viewers who hate their fucking ears on Sunday night.
I guess Katy believes that in this current day musicscape that live performances are the most important thing in an artists appearance on a singing show. Katy is totally 100% right, but as Britney Spears so eloquently demonstrates – when you have the voice of a dying tone deaf frog, live performances without any live vocals are totally acceptable and in some cultures, actively encouraged.
Katy opened her performance of “Unconditionally” flatter than a model during fashion week. Being the vocal acrobat that she is, Katy mixed it up a bit and then went sharp as shit, and then alternated between flat and sharp throughout. There was some weird bird shit going on around her that didn’t make any sense, but you didn’t really pay any attention to that anyway because you were so truly stunned by her amazing range of awful vocals.
Truly a talented deaf person.
GARY BARLOW and ELTON JOHN
Typically, the X-Factor treated an Elton John appearance as the second coming of Jesus himself. British rock and pop has an amazing self-congratulatory ability which was totally encapsulated in the circle jerk that was a duet between Gary Barlow and Elton John. I feel like at the end of every muscial fundraising stadium concert / royal event / national musical event there is a tustle between closing with Elton or closing with Paul McCartney – both equally irrelelvant to the target demographic of the X-Factor whilst both having failed to release anything relevant and interesting in over 15 years now. So this duet was the one that no-one but Gary Barlow asked for, and i’m sure mums across the land will be indifferent to the dated beats and bland structure of their performance.
SHARON FUCKING OSBOURNE AND HER FUCKING FACE.
So Sharon Osbourne’s face then. She cried on Sunday. She cried a lot. It kind of looked like someone had turned a tap in the back of her head to encourage fluid seepage. Sharon’s face was the true star of the show last night.
Sharon’s face has over the years turned into one of the great plastic surgery gone wrong stories. E! should do a True Hollywood Story on Sharon’s face. Sharon’s face should negotiate independently from Sharon for it’s own terms for next year’s show, because without Sharon’s fucked up surgery face, the X-Factor panel may as well be four vibrators sitting infront of microphones and Coke glasses.
When Sharon cried, everyone around her was unsure quite what was happening, because she looked lie a series of squashed sausages dipped in olive oil all making a break in different directions.
THE ULTIMATE PREDICTABILITY OF THE VIEWING AUDIENCE.
The worst worst worst part of watching the X-Factor is not the obvious VTs that drive viewers to sympathise and loathe contestants in different alternations, it’s not the constant spoon-feeding of sob stories to try and make you buy the contestants singles on iTunes. It’s not even the saccharine and increasingly ridiculous live performances of the contestant’s pre-selected songs, more and more selected to support Simon Cowell Enterprises.
No, the worst part of the entire show is the gulability and predictability of the viewing audience, whom ultimately hit the vote buttons based on cuteness, age, sob story, ability to hold a note for the longest duration and number of key changes within the selected ballad.
Sam Bailey winning the X-Factor was a foregone conclusion months ago, the only surprise is the number of talentless hacks who made it further than they deserved running alongside her. And how many times poor Nicholas McDonald said “amazin” in response to every and any question.
Just to highlight, it has been over three years since One Direction categorically lost this competition, and seven years since Leona Lewis won. That’s a very long time to be suffering Nicole Scherzinger trying to seem ghetto.