Honking Box Review: The X Factor

The X Factor has fallen off the radar a bit recently, hasn’t it? Not that we’ve stopped watching it, we’re just talking about it considerably less, plus we were gutted that the clumsy Macdonald Brothers playing the bagpipes live onstage turned out to be hearsay. But all of sudden, the show has taken a turn for the better. A BIG turn....

Our uncontrollable delight at the exit of arrogant woollen mongoloid Ashley could be heard for miles – quite possibly the greatest decision Louis Walsh has made throughout his career, although the look of downright hatred on Simon Cowell’s face was genuinely chilling. Still, more fool Simon for betting so much on a stroppy oik that claimed “it’s not my type of music, d’ja get me?” about every single genre presented to him, let alone the fact that he looks like a Highland cow and sings like a sheep. Seriously, we haven’t detested a complete stranger this much since Horseface Grace.

So with supposed frontrunner Trashley out on his whiny arse, the competition has been given a brief burst of fresh air. For those of you (and feedback suggests there are many) that have switched off over the past week or two, The Sloppy Dog presents a concise X Factor finalists refresher...

Leona
Initially we dismissed Leona as being a bit generic and Javinesque, but we’ve quickly come to realise she’s actually rather fucking ace. Perhaps a wee bit dull as far as personality goes, but potentially nothing a drink or seven before next week’s show wouldn’t aid – she looks like she’d be fantastic at vodka-sodden tragedy. Knock ‘em back, love.

Ray
Perma-grinning ratpack chimp whose face and hair are constructed from the same recovered plastic, we much preferred him as Bernie Nolan’s littlest in Brookie. Sure, he’s likeable. Sure, he’s marketable. But Christ on a bike, if this lad hasn’t prompted a nationwide abhorrence of swing music, Panic At The Disco are a serious band with an important message.

The Macdonald Brothers
The most sexless siblings to bother TV screens since, well, The Conway Sisters. How they even got through Boot Camp is wholly unfathomable, although they’re flogging the Scottish card so heavily there’s only a matter of time before they do Letter From America. Also, four weeks in and they still haven’t mustered up even one lousy comeback for Simon’s ever-flowing bile? Do you actually have testicles under those kilts, lads?

Ben
AKA The 1993 Man. The voice, the styling, the horrendous barnet – it’s all very, very dated and very, very wrong. Not to mention the fact that he seems to believe he has some sort of superpower that enables him to turn any song into bona fide rock music. Sling him an S Club 7 track, Mrs O, see how he handles THAT.

Robert
Not a lot to report on Robert – essentially Andy from last year’s series, except he looks less like a Malteser. Nice guy, good voice, and that’s pretty much your lot. Which doesn’t bode too well for him in the competition. Next!

Nikitta
We actually began to consciously mull over Nikitta’s talent in the competition during Saturday’s show, it being the first occasion that her USP of having a dead mother wasn’t rinsed to bejesus. It would turn out she’s not all that great, bless her. Quick, get the solemn ballad playing again, Nikitta needs votes!

Eton Road
Looking and sounding like Shirley Bassey backed by 911, Eton Road are arguably the most interesting act in the competition. It’s undetermined whether we love or hate Mini-Molko’s flat-out refusal to correspond with his bandmates’ vocals, dance moves and... well, gender. But it’s fair to assume hate is more likely. All the same, Eton Road make for incredibly watchable television.

So who’s got The Sloppy Dog vote? Well, it wouldn’t be right to say – partly because we don’t want to influence your ballot, partly because we could well change our opinion in the coming weeks, and mainly (approximately 98%) because we’re hoping for Jonathan to return in a wild card twist.