So the X Factory is back, churning out its battery farmed, de-beaked creatures by the dozen. This year saw the auditions take a new live arena format a la Britain’s Got Talent – living proof that you can’t polish a turd. Which is definitely true, you can’t. Not even with Pledge Lemon wipe.
Can we clarify right now that the X Factor was simply on in t’background, care of house mate number a. We were too busy cooking food and sending dirty texts for all that nonsense, but what we did catch between the filth was the kind of bile that made us want to strangulate ourselves with our spaghetti right there and then.
The drama was intenserer, the tantrums cornier and the hair larger and more Romanian than ever before. Simon Cowell had his inevitable ‘This is the worst series ever’ tantrum – he gets fractious if his vagina hair is on its monthlies – before the ‘best audition ever’ walks through the door in the rather do-able form of Danyl Johnson. A teacher – bi of the sex by the by – who skipped out, wibbled his notes, pulled some squatty ‘I’m so into this’ movements, pointed at the audience, and then came across all coy and ‘Oh, this old thing’ when the judges spunked their praise in his pretty face. Yes, twas a plant if ever we saw one.
You can watch Danyl (which reminds us of Pterodactyl in a really tenuous way) in his panto performance over the jump, which we took from the X Factor’s official YouTube group – the comments upon which greatly amused us. We thought this was a family show! Toodleoo.