Friday, March 23, 2007

Honking Box Feature: The X Factor

Weeks after the announcement that Louis Walsh and Kate Thornton had been exiled from The X Factor, and still no decision has been made (or at the very least, announced) relating to the new judges. And with speculation still as plentiful as Angelina Jolie is publicity-hungry maternal, we’ve booked us a seat aboard the bandwagon.

That said, the sole reason the showbiz columns are chucking names every which way is to do with the vain hope that when the judge selections are announced, either Newton or Mott will have touched upon the idea at some point, and can therefore claim it as an exclusive.

So, in the interests of hard-hitting journalism, we’ve chosen to provide a round-up of the industry luminaries currently being bandied about, along with a few choices of our own...

Chris Moyles
Widely touted as both a host and a judge, but for a man whose once-sizeable talent was messily gorged by his ever-swelling ego, he’s perhaps not best placed to be criticising the ability of others. That and the fact you’d need to fashion a new desk to accommodate his team of ingratiating arse-lickers.

Jackiey Budden
We’d bet one of our kidneys that Shilpa’s name has been thrown into the hat by ITV1, but we’re can’t help think it would be far funnier if the name Sho-pal was thrown in instead. Jackiey judging The X Factor would be the perfect opportunity for some PC backpeddling (“yup, I propah liked ya singin’, coz yer braaaaahn.”), and Lord knows you can’t hear enough of that silky voice...

Richard Park
“That was a terribly pitchy version of a song by Dolly Parton, who I often shared a tasty Greek platter with in the 70’s.” “Now, that track was written by John Lennon, who was a close personal friend of mine for many, many years.” “I much preferred Madonna’s interpretation, for which I was actually solely responsible.” “I truly hated your version of Think Twice, as does Jesus, who I am a direct descendant of”. If the contestants don’t kill him, Simon Cowell will.

Victoria Beckham
Geri took one hell of a condemnation when she opted to rate vocal performances on Popstars: The Rivals. Sadly, we fear ol’ Posh would suffer the same fate. Nonetheless, it would be a perfect opportunity for that sardonic wit we so rarely see showcased nowadays – incessant pap snaps aren’t the best vehicle to broadcast sarky brilliance to the masses. FYI, we also wish to voice our desire for a Spice Girls Week during the live stages. Just think, Ray Quinn doing Lady Is A Vamp would have been a definite expulsion.

Jake Shears, Ana Matronic or Babydaddy
Should Jake have had a hand in Eton Road (innuendo? Us?) last year, we’re sure the industry would, by now, have been bestowed with an intergalactic digi-boyband ready to conquer the globe. We’re filled with evil glee at the thought of a shaky, underconfident 16-year-old from Skelmersdale being told he’s a hot little bastard followed by some finger-clicks.

Jeremy Kyle
Let the record show that we completely, absolutely, unequivocally loathe the smug bastard, but no-one has more experience in dealing with hair-raising pikeys in search of their 15 minutes. Just picture a bubble-permed mum-of-nine painfully shrieking out a shambolic rendition of Can’t Fight The Moonlight. “You need to accept FULL RESPONSIBILITY for your COMPLETE lack of talent! You need to get ON YOUR KNEES and APOLOGISE to LeAnn Rimes! GO ON!! KNEEL!!”

Never mind the fact she’s already heavily involved with The X Factor, who else on God’s green Earth would be likely to rock up at Teddington Studios in a bikini and a MASSIVE STRAW HAT?

David Gest
Remember that Northern rapper who we all thought crossed the line when he asked Sharon if her kids wanted to get out of rehab (yet also made us snigger our cuppas out our nostrils)? Just imagine the possible insults unsuccessful auditionees could muster for this bizarre character. Even if his musical know-how didn’t cut it, the schadenfreude aspect is reason enough to plonk him behind that desk.

Roseann McBride
We’re putting our (feather)weight behind the Popjustice campaign to get Roseann working with people who may actually shift units in triple figures. After our own plea last year to get this woman on primetime, the idea of inter-judge bitchery between dual harpies Sharon and Roseann ups the potential greatness ten-fold. In fact, those two in a ring sounds like a show in itself. *Fires off email to ITV2 entertainment commissioner*

If you’re interested in placing a bet on who’ll scoop the two judge spots vacant, pop into your nearest branch of William Hill quoting reference name The Sloppy Dog. You won’t actually be able to gamble on the above, but they will look at you like you’re a fucking loon.

Meanwhile, we understand that the top choices for replacement presenters – Dermot O’Leary and Steve Jones – have both declined the role, supposedly passing the opportunity onto self-satisfied, gormless rent-a-twat Vernon Kay and the equally vacuous, beak-faced, sycophantic turdgibbon Fearne Cotton. Yikes. Hey, why not just get Andi Peters in to give it the ultimate kiss of death?

Let’s hope whoever fills Louis’ position of chronic blinking and frantic flying of the green, white and gold is more capable of finding someone with a bit more flair than the current champion. Or, y’know, just provides some unmissable train-wreck telly. We know which of the two is more important to us...

1 comment:

al said...

Well how about that? Dermot nailed it after all.

In your beak-like, Cotton. Ha.

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