Saturday, November 21, 2009

The Sloppy Dog LiveBlog: The X Factor

Right, we've decided to take a break from sticking needles in our Simon Cowell effigy to appease the nagging of youse lot, and bring you another X Factor liveblog. Prepare yourself for a tidal wave of negativity, an unhealthy dose of cynicism, and a whole lotta bile. Keep hitting refresh if you're joining us live tonight, because, according to the dramatic voiceover which sounds unintentionally sarcastic, It's Time. To Face. The Music! Seriously, can they not just run the titles?

Last week! Lloyd sucked! The twins sucked less! Danyl was scum! Stacey was transformed into Fucking Leona! Jamie went home! It's funny - looking at the evicted six, and the remaining six, it's honestly hard to believe each of the two lots are not in the other's position. But hey, let's remind ourselves, this is not a talent show, it's a low-rent end-of-the-pier shitshower.

Dermot reminds us the final is just around the corner. Who on Earth are they planning to rope in for the duets? Is there a single artist in the history of recorded sound that would happily perform with John & Edward? But that's a question we shall be tackling in a few weeks time - in the meantime, it's George Michael Week, which begins with a namecheck for Pepsi & Shirlie. This does not happen enough in prime time television.

Lloyd is up first, which is pretty much equates to a certainty for the bottom two. There's a REALLY SUBTLE shot of HMV along with a verbal mention, and if this is a taster of what's going to happen when the product placement rules are relaxed, television as we know it is royally fucked. "You know what I liked about that performance, Lloyd? It was almost like a rich buttery spread, low in cholesterol with a full creamy taste. The judges' critiques, in association with Utterly Butterly."

Lloyd is making a right faecal sandwich of Faith. Caucasian, please - as if The Boy Least Likely To's version can be matched.

Cheryl has a gigantic comedy bow in her hair, making her look like the Spitting Image take on the Duchess of York. Meanwhile, Dermot likens Louis to Professor Yaffle. If we're assigning 80s kids TV heroes to all the judges, Dannii is Aunt Sally, Simon is a mash-up of Krang and Evil Edna, and Cheryl is one of the Dobson sisters from Byker Grove.

Stacey is up next, and it seems Dannii is trying to give her the moniker of "The Voice". It's unlikely to stick, mind, given most people know her as "That Girl Wot Makes Me Press The Mute Button When She Talks."

Ugh. She's doing I Can't Make You Love Me, possibly the dreariest thing George Michael has ever put his name to. In fairness, she's doing a decent enough version of it, and she looks jolly nice too this evening. Stacey Solomon FTW, yo.

Oh for the love of fuck, will someone do something with that bastard audience? SHUT YOUR STINKING TRAPS, you sycophantic bunch of ingratiating arseholes. People who actually know about music - plus Louis Walsh and Simon Cowell - are trying to talk, and we'd much rather hear their thoughts than "WELOVEYOUSTACEEEEY!" bellowed from the back row. Can they not pipe some sort of sleeping gas into the studio? And if an excessive amount can also be piped into Danyl's dressing room, that wouldn't be the worst thing in the world.

Next up is John & Edward, whose VT is the same old montage of clumsy dancing, daffy chat and yapping about pressure. Incidentally, can we just point out how much we detest the nickname 'Jedward'? If they're going for a catchy portmanteau, surely 'Jodward' makes more sense? Jedward is far too Edward-heavy.

It's a MEDLEY! Oh yes. This is officially The Stuff. By which we mean, 'utter wank but quintessential Jodward'.

Simon Cowell is hating on Andrew Ridgeley. Shooting fish much? Let's remember - this is the same Simon Cowell who was responsible for Girl Thing.

Plug up your every orifice and run for a leadlined bunker, it's Fucking Danyl. Who, by the way, we've decided to call 'Dannle' from now on - if the gormless windowlicker can't even spell his own name, then we're going to go all phonetic on his arrogant ass. We meet Dannle's housemates, one of whom suffers from a severe case of gayvoice.

Simon's said it's a no-frills performance, which presumably means we can rule out our wish that he does Outside with an onstage urinal set? Mind you, it'd need to be an Ally McBeal style unisex toilet, given that HE ALSO LIKES WOMEN. No really, he absolutely loves women! He said so, y'know.

How disappointing. It's Careless Whisper, every bit as shouty and self-indulgent as you'd expect. And high notes are on the horizon, so it's time to play Count Dannle's Fillings.

Dermot questions Dannle's rather negative coverage this week, which, in a nutshell, was that he was a bratty little bitch stamping his feet and throwing his toys out of the pram about anything and everything. Dannle sidesteps the question, the sneaky little tart. Meanwhile, if Calvin Harris is so desperate for a bit of publicity to plug his Godawful raping of the dance genre, can't he come back every week and run on in front of the number to call to vote for Dannle? Surely he's got to be good for something.

Simon describes Olly as "incredible" - let's remember, this is the same Simon Cowell that gave the Mighty Morphin' Power Rangers a record deal. Olly is doing Fastlove, and not very well.

Yes Olly, you have a pelvic bone. We get it.

Again with the fucking audience. Belt up, for Christ's sake. Cheryl says lads want to knock about with Olly. No dear, lads want to knock him out.

Is anyone else getting a serious dose of that can't-be-bollocksed feeling, as previously seen in Series Four, and pretty much every series of Big Brother post-2006? It's all just so... meh. And, as if to prove the point, here's the supposed climax of the show, Joe McElderry. He wisely refers to his hometown as 'the North-East', ensuring he's not alienating either the Geordie or Mackem vote. Now that's why Bad Lashes fell down at the first hurdle.

Joe's doing a solo version of Don't Let The Sun Go Down On Me, which is entirely futile as everyone is fully aware that the greatest moment of that song is where Elton introduces George. Not when George comes on - just the intro. Hell, Joe should do it anyway. Instead, we're treated to a typically-Joe theatre catastrophe. Yes, he can sing, but he should be doing it in Billy Elliot. Or, y'know, in a local am-dram production of Great Balls of Fire at the village hall to raise enough money for a new weather vane. Simon seemed to enjoy it, but let's remember, this is the same Simon Cowell who keeps Sinitta in the media 20 years after her lone glimmer of relevance.

Recap! Lloyd sucked; Stacey is THE ONLY CHOICE; John & Edward were John & Edward; Dannle was the blueprint for all cuntery; Olly continued to look like Tim Lovejoy with mumps (© HRH Grace Dent); Joe could be Joseph. And to top it off, Simon shamelessly kisses up to George Michael, who is most likely setting light to his entire back catalogue as we speak, following that hideous display of butchery. And in spite of tonight providing us with a strong contender for the dullest episode of The X Factor to date, we'll be back tomorrow for the results show. Crack open a Red Bull, prop open your eyelids with matchsticks, and we'll see you then.


Blu said...

Bravo Bitch! How can you hate Danyl so much, you're just jealous coz you aint got no black in ya :o) I agree my love, STACEY
SO-LO-MAN is fantastic but I also look past the wart or the boil, or whatever it is that is twisting your lemon and I LOVE Danyl. Admitedly he is no Adictiv Ladies coz lets face it, no one could ever measure up to their...................................?..........................................?............................................?......................................................?................................... standards, but he rocks man, he totally rocks! Come on Danyl! Is a "comment" supposed to be this long? Oh well, anyway as for Johnward, why oh why oh why are they called "Jedward"?! That's exactly what I said, surely it should be Johnward but they are Irish, what d'you expect, oooh did I just say that? So what do you think will happen? If Lloyd doesn't go this week, I'll...... well lets face it, I won't do anything. I swore I wouldn't watch X factor after Lucie was voted out over Johnward (you Wanker Simon) but yes here I am still watching and bitching. I can't believe they were all up in Lloyd's bizniz, are they tone deaf? And another thing, I'm getting pretty freaking sick of Fucking Cheryl Cole. Oh yes I hear you all say, but she's the NATION'S SWEETHEART, well I'm sorry, she's a plain old jordie lass who was lucky enough to make it big through Girls Aloud (who I love btw) and now all of a sudden, she's the queen of Britan! Why is she judging people in a singing competition in when in fact she is fresh from a singing competition. Oh the injustice of this world. Anyway, I think I've yaffled enough. Great Blog Al, you didn't let me down, you're still the web's best bitch, hilarious bitch, but bitch all the same. Love ya Eddie. Your Blu xxxxxx

Blu said...

By the way, I meant Olly with the wart of the boil

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