The Sloppy Dog's Worst of 2012: TV

Our annual beady eye over the year’s pop culture offerings has come around again, and we’re kicking things off on a sour note – it’s time to reveal 2012’s worst television.

  

It’s worth pointing out that it’s far easier to avoid a bad TV show than it is to avoid bad music, so this list isn’t so much a definitive ‘most unforgivably awful things broadcast this year’ rundown – these ones were just unfortunate enough to have our gaze fall upon them. (And, as ever, assume Jeremy Kyle is a permanent Number One.)

10. Glee

Not too long ago, Glee was an exciting and entertaining show – albeit heavy on the cheese. But even the star turn from Jane Lynch can’t save it. The introduction of the atrocious Glee Project winner Damian McGinty didn’t help matters, but it was the dire Christmas episode that proved to be the true shark-jumper. RIP Glee.

9. Merlin

Perhaps Merlin’s inclusion on the list isn’t entirely fair – it’s significantly better than all other shows listed here, and in fact, better than a great deal else. But its slow-moving nature, its build-up to sweet FA and its premature axing before any kind of payoff made for a horribly frustrating show. It’s literally taken them five series to do absolutely nothing.

8. Cougar Town

What began life as a sharp, bold, semi-believable comedy soon melted down into a cosy, convenient family sitcom worryingly light on the laughs. A few constraints here and there might prompt writers to think outside the box. Alas, when your one punchline is ‘wine’, you’d need a few gallons yourself to enjoy this waste of airtime.

7. Question Time

Another show whose inclusion here might not be fully justified – it’s a simple yet effective format, which goes to great lengths to bridge the sizeable gap between politician and everyman. But the consistently cunt-packed panel, often trumped by hateful audience members airing some truly disgusting views, makes Question Time seriously uncomfortable viewing.

6 - 5. X Factor USA / The X Factor

The bubble had burst for The X Factor some time ago, but its continued existence is taking a mammoth dump on whatever good it once did as an entertainment show and/or talent search. The American version is painful to watch, the clearly-unwell Britney Spears wheeled out to read three syllables at a time. Meanwhile, the British version with its now-transparent flouting of the rules, entire lack of morals and largely loathsome talent somehow outdoes its transatlantic sister. Simon Cowell, you are a cunt. But, for your sake, give it up.

4. Hotel GB

Let’s round up all our talent! Except the ones with dignity! Let’s chuck ‘em all in a hotel, undertaking tasks with little or no relevance to their own skills! Let’s add in some unemployed folk to give it some heart! Let’s put cameras everywhere, like that show we gave to Channel 5! Let’s completely die on our arses!

3. The Midnight Beast

Apparently, this is funny to some people. Apparently, those people are missing at least two of their five senses. Fair play to The Midnight Beast for grafting their way to their own TV show, but the overplayed, smug knowingness of it all was fist-bitingly awkward to witness. (That, and the material absolutely stinks.)

2. Britain Unzipped

For all BBC Three’s foolish decisions (axing high-rating shows such as The Fades) and their sanctimonious spiel about making viewers ‘think’, they don’t half produce some shit. Britain Unzipped was approaching Eurotrash levels of tastelessness, a low being Holly Willoughby examining spunk stains in front of a live studio audience. License fee refund, please.

1. The Only Way Is Essex Live
The dreadfulness is baked right into the title, isn’t it? The show in its usual guise is an absolute abortion, so how they thought it would translate into a live special is a complete mystery. The plus side is that the missed cues, script cock-ups, and the most loathsome cuntrags on television finally put the nail in the bright orange, diamante-studded coffin.

Single Reviews 18/11/12

On this week’s Single Reviews (this ‘week’, eh regular readers? Hahaha, etc), we’ve got a returning girlband ready to make the most of Mutya Keisha Siobhan’s delay and Stooshe’s implosion; a mild metal band knocking out something different; Northern Ireland proving, post-Ash, they can produce something amazing; and a piano-bothering demi-diva being a tad beige. In fact, that pretty much covers it. No need to read on, really, is there?

Perhaps a little too much has been made of the Girls Aloud comeback – lofty expectations can only result in disappointment, and Something New certainly ticks that box on first listen. But once you get past the generic Calvin Harris-style McHouse parping, and actually determine where the chorus is, it’s all pretty good fun. It’s a shame it’s just to herald a superfluous greatest hits rather than a full album proper, but you’d be a fool to think this is anything other than a swansong.

Bedford’s finest Don Broco ease off on the thrashing ever so slightly to create a smooth, sardonic rock anthem, which may or may not be tongue-in-cheek. Either way, Hold On works – Rob Damiani’s downy vocals are delivered through a knowing smirk, laid nicely atop a vigorous foundation of drums ‘n’ riffs. With the indie genre still on life support, it’s nice to know the rock side of things is still doing its damndest to make things interesting.

That said, there remain a few brave bastions of the indie cause. Single of the Week is awarded to Two Door Cinema Club, who’ve already given our ears quite the treat this year via the mighty Beacon album (and indirectly, the Olympic brilliance of Caliban’s Dream – insert Siobhan Sharpe quote here). Sun’s simple, plod-along qualities prove hugely addictive in practice, and underline the band as a genuinely luminous prospect.

And last up, it’s Alicia Keys, who on one hand, proves she can do the kind of immense chorus Bjorn & Benny would be proud to create. But on the other hand, proves she’s a tad short of ideas – the parallels between Girl On Fire and previous material are just a tad too prevalent. The Inferno remix, which adds a Nicki Minaj rap to proceedings, makes things far more interesting, but on its own, has a distinct air of “oh, it’ll do” about it.

Honking Box Preview: The Great British Bake-Off

Just as a round-up of the hapless X Factor condemnees ahead of the Live Shows has become a yearly tradition, a spot of gushing ‘n’ guesswork prior to the final of The Great British Bake-Off is too becoming ritual. And with Series Three coming to an climax this week, it’s time to chew over (and swallow, cos only a complete fucking bonehead would spit out cake) this year’s platter of finalists.

From early shock evictees in the form of Victoria, to week-on-week skin-of-the-teeth survivors in the form of Ryan and Manisha, the selection of characters has once again been outstanding. But special mention must go to Cathryn, who began the competition as a trembling, don’t-look-at-me dormouse, before slowly morphing into some sort of apron-clad valkyrie, facing down Paul Hollywood’s judgements with egalitarian sass.

But, as ever, we’re left with three. However, whereas previous years have seen a general three-horse race for the prize, this year there’s been a clear leader from the outset. Perfect Brendan, whose lone hiccup throughout the series was during the semi-final, when one rogue strawberry half dared to droop out of its pristine custard gulag, is the obvious favourite, with an unyielding – almost robotic – determination to win. (And what Brendan did to the aforementioned strawberry’s family in cold vengeance for its foolish audacity cannot ever be uttered.)

Far more interesting finalists come in the form of John and James, interestingly the two youngest contestants, in contrast to Brendan being the oldest. Brendan’s precision and perfection and infallible skill come from years of flour-dusted trial-and-errors, a million miles away from James and his constant wing-it approach. But when his results are good, they’re very, very good indeed.

John, while likeable and a gifted baker, has perhaps had the least consistent performance across the series. But he’s entertained splendidly: calling John a wily minx; his cheeks acting as a redscale to indicate his level of flusteredness; attempting a gingerbread Coliseum AND PULLING IT OFF. He’s been good, but he’s most likely a bronze medallist.

It’s hard to see James, even with his inventiveness and quirkiness and knitted owl mascot, being picked over Brendan in black-and-white terms, but Paul Hollywood and Mary Berry can be hard to predict. And it makes for quite a final: a millimetre-precise, accomplished baker with throwback appeal; or a more haphazard, but hugely exciting, innovator.

Regardless, it’ll make for a fitting end to what’s been a gripping and entertaining series. And while, on paper, such words applied to a baking competition defies all kinds of logic, the execution has been truly brilliant. And to tide us over until the fourth series, we’ll amuse ourselves by playing YouTube clips of Mel and Sue saying the word “strudel” on repeat.

BIGkids - Never Grow Up (BIGkids Recordings)

Side projects are a funny old concept. Sometimes, they do great things, often outshining the day job: Codeine Velvet Club, The Last Shadow Puppets, Gorillaz. Other times, they pass without much noise, such as SuperHeavy. And then there’s the genuinely horrific offerings: Alex James and Betty Boo teaming up as Wigwam, anyone?

So as blue-eyed soul troubadour Mr Hudson sneaks out from under his urban credentials into candyfloss pop surroundings, it could be a recipe for disaster. But in practice, his partnership with singer Rosie Bones under the guise of BIGkids is nothing short of triumphant. Sugary and glittery and exuberant, sure, but definitely triumphant with it.

Never Grow Up is one big major key delight – traditional pop in the best possible sense, but fresh and flagrant with it. Even the more downbeat offerings fit into the overall tone – for instance, Good For You, whose simple earthiness is lifted by mischievous Tomy twiddlings. But amidst the day-glo friskiness, there’s taut, defined musicianship. Mr Hudson’s graceful tones and Rosie Bones’ rich, bluesy honk bring a real depth to proceedings.

The playful back-and-forths between the two is one of Never Grow Up’s key pleasures. But when they’re not engaging in a light-hearted lyrical duel, they’re equally as good when they form a team, purveying a genuine us-against-the-world, screw-the-rest-of-em attitude.

Never Grow Up recaptures some of the unashamed Englishness that made Mr Hudson & The Library’s debut album so effortlessly charming. His ditching of The Library and palling up with Kanye West inevitably drifted things Stateside, but he’s very much back to Blighty here, albeit with a very different tone. And as depressing as it is that Parklife and the Spice Girls now count as nostalgic references, it adds to the aforementioned Britishness whilst underlining the bouncy, light-hearted quality that makes Never Grow Up twinkle.

Business-wise, it’s probably not going to shift a squillion-odd copies. But Never Grow Up has a list of merits as long as Kanye’s rider demands. Above all else, it functions wonderfully as a good mood inducer, and displays a side to an artist most of us were completely unaware of. Possibly, even Mr Hudson himself.

Honking Box Preview: The X Factor

Welcome to the first blog post round these parts for some considerable time, and to our annual rundown of the X Factor live show fodder. You know the deal – work, summer, DIY, etc etc. Hell, if X Factor contestants are allowed to wheel out “this means everything to me” 16 times an episode, then we can regurgitate the same old excuses too.

So, aside from the presence of new judge Nicole Scherzinger on the panel (and deliciously, hated by the British public solely for not being Mel B), does this year’s X Factor have anything genuinely new to offer us? Read on...

Kye Sones

Who? Chimney sweep turned AOR busker type. Not a million miles from a certain Matt Cardle.

Ideal Theme Week: ‘Rock’ Week. While Tulisa gives her girls Ke$ha songs again, Kye will tackle a Train ‘classic’.

How will Syco bollocks up his career? A watered-down ballad as a debut single. Perhaps one penned by Gary Barlow.

Deserved placing: 5^th

Likely placing: 1^st. The White-Guy-With-Guitar epidemic that’s poisoned American Idol is heading thisaway.

Melanie Masson

Who? Vocally: absurdly noisy belter. Professionally: full-time fairy. Visually: Nicola Roberts’ reflection in a haunted mirror.

Ideal Theme Week: Rock Ballads. She’ll obliterate Bonnie Tyler’s back catalogue.

How will Syco bollocks up her career? Ill-selected PAs in chavvy nightclubs, album of covers for Mother’s Day, back to being a fairy within a year.

Deserved placing: 9^th

Likely placing: 9^th – that almighty holler will get pretty old pretty quick.

Carolynne Poole

Who? Fame Academy finalist, but for X Factor purposes, she didn’t actually exist prior to last year’s Judges Houses. Very, very good.

Ideal Theme Week: Shakira. No, wait, come back. Her Underneath Your Clothes back on Fame Academy was rather special indeed.

How will Syco bollocks up her career? No promotion beyond a performance Loose Women, on which she’ll eventually become a panellist.

Deserved placing: 1^st

Likely placing: 3^rd, if she’s lucky. There’s a touch of the Ruth Lorenzos about this one...

Lucy Spraggan

Who? One-trick Victoria-Wood-a-like, who’d have been far better suited to Britain’s Got Talent.

Ideal Theme Week: Self-Penned, Quasi-Touching-But-Mainly-Comedic Acousti-Wank Week.

How will Syco bollocks up their career? They won’t have a clue how to market her. In fairness, would anyone have a clue how to market her?

Deserved placing: 8^th

Likely placing: 6^th – it’ll be interesting to see how the public cope with hearing the same near-parody effect applied to every track, week in, week out.

Jade Ellis

Who? Single mum with half a head of hair, and a pleasant, low-key rasp.

Ideal Theme Week: Britpop Week. Not cos it’d suit her, just cos we’d quite like to see it.

How will Syco bollocks up their career? An album of dull-as-dishwater REAL JAZZ, as previously tackled by terminal dullard Rebecca Ferguson. Though, in fairness, it’s served her well...

Deserved placing: 3^rd

Likely placing: 10^th – not a whole lot of screen time + a unique quality = ITV1 VIEWERS DOEZ NOT WANTS.

 

Ella Henderson

Who? Likeable belter. In-show quirks include World War II hair, and the fact that she’s 16. The judges may have mentioned that once or twice.

Ideal Theme Week: Soul Classics. Inevitably, the closest X Factor will get is Songs That Have Been Played On American Radio At Some Point.

How will Syco bollocks up her career? By shoehorning her into a black frock and an Adele-by-numbers album. See also: Leanne Mitchell. (Y’know, her off The Voice. Look her up.)

Deserved placing: 2^nd

Likely placing: 2^nd – she’s good, but not White-Guy-With-Guitar good.

GMD3

Who? Horrendous, 1D-lite trio who claim to be all about the harmonies, yet sound like a dozen battery hens being ironed in unison. Fun fact: managed by Global Radio. Fixed? The X Factor?!

Ideal Theme Week: One Direction.

How will Syco bollocks up their career? By accidentally turning up their mics at T4 On The Beach, thus showing the world that a band full of Louis Tomlinsons is not a good idea.

Deserved placing: 11^th

Likely placing: 8^th – piggybacking on The Wanted’s fanbase can only get you so far.

Union J

Who? Horrendous, 1D-lite quartet, who represent the Frankenbands this year thanks to a fourth member squished in at the last second. Better than GMD3.

Ideal Theme Week: One Direction.

How will Syco bollocks up their career? It’ll be an intentional sabotage so as not to detract from One Direction. Or GMD3, whose uber-management will be having a quiet word with Syco.

Deserved placing: 10^th

Likely placing: 4^th, following the moment Louis gives up the ghost and just hands them You Raise Me Up.

MK1

Who? Boy-girl rap duo who brutally turfed out their founding member during their audition, then sabotaged the brilliantly-named Lightbulb Thieves at Boot Camp. Utterly ruthless.

Ideal Theme Week: Black Eyed Peas. Or, y’know, Love City Groove.

How will Syco bollocks up their career? Completely unaware of how to handle anyone who isn’t a throwaway boyband, Syco will force Labrinth to lay down one track with MK1, before forgetting about them altogether. Celebrity Big Brother for the white girl.

Deserved placing: 8^th

Likely placing: 11^th – that new-fangled rap music? On ITV? Oh goodness, no.

Jahmene Douglas

Who? Quite literally, Leighton from Trollied.

Ideal Theme Week: Anything prior to 1970. His At Last proved it nicely. His Moves Like Jagger proved it horribly.

How will Syco bollocks up his career? He’ll crumble into a quivering mess before he’s even reached his covers album. It’s unlikely they’ve learned from SuBo, and Jahmene might well be the proof of that.

Deserved placing: 4^th

Likely placing: 5^th, if his nerve and/or bladder holds out that long.

James Arthur

Who? Misshapen, soulful guitar-wielder with a distinctive voice and Deirdre Barlow’s glasses circa 1989.

Ideal Theme Week: Sting Week, or Damien Rice Week. He’ll have to make do with Big Band Week, when he rolls his eyes through Mack The Knife.

How will Syco bollocks up his career? They’ll do their damndest to emulate Ed Sheeran, note for note. James won’t play ball. He’ll cuss them out on Twitter, get dropped, and be back to playing the student union by 2014.

Deserved placing: 6^th

Likely placing: 7^th – it’ll be self-sabotage to get the hell out of the madhouse.

Rylan Clark

Who? Loathsome, fame-hungry mincefest. Most punchable contestant since Frankie Cocozza.

Ideal Theme Week: IBEEFA!! Innit! Oh my God!!!

How will Syco bollocks up his career? Rylan will do a fine job of that all by himself. Syco can put their feet up and watch him explode in a shower of glitter and complimentary lube.

Deserved placing: 12^th

Likely placing: 12^th – it’s hard to know what sort of moron Rylan will appeal to.

And let’s not forget that a 13^th spot is up for grabs in the live shows, meaning one judge will have one extra contestant. Fighting for the dubious honour of not being good enough to get through originally are simpering Scouse weepathon Christopher Maloney, passable Essex teen Amy Mottram, permatanned heavage-fest Times Red, and Matt Cardle 3.0 (or Kye Sones 2.0) Adam Burridge.

Times Red were by far the most impressive at Judges Houses with their beatbox-and-guitar interpretation of Ain’t No Sunshine/Let’s Get It Started, and far outshone the other three acts Louis selected. But Amy or Christopher will be a far more likely prospect. Not an interesting prospect, admittedly, but a far more likely one all the same.

For those of you asking about a liveblog this year, it’s probably not too likely – hell, it took a few months to even get a bogstandard blog post up and running again. However, we heartily endorse Jack Seale on the Radio Times, or Stuart Heritage on the Guardian. Or, if you’ve got a real boner for hyperbole, stating the bleeding obvious and general gutter-journalism, there’s always Digital Spy.

  

Still, no doubt we’ll be tweeting the bejesus out of it. After a horrific start to the series, with scripted conversations and contrived hashtags, it’s at least picked up as it’s progressed. But even then, it’s safe to say The X Factor has finally gone off the boil. Then again, in all fairness, how good can anything that’s not The Great British Bake-Off actually be?

Single Reviews 15/07/12

Sorry for the sparse updates these days – we’ve been so busy organising the London 2012 Olympic Games, coaching Andy Murray on how to express emotion in public, and masterminding Hard Rock Calling. By the way, Macca and The Boss, apologies for that thing with your mics the other day, but hey: when your phone needs charging, it doesn’t matter what’s plugged in. Anyway, Single Reviews, anyone?

First up, it’s Kasabian. For a band whose sound is so quickly-identifiable, it’s a surprise – and a good one, at that – to hear something that takes such a bold step away from the norm. Switchblade Smiles proves a much more desk-twiddled affair than previous material, understated and dark, with Tom Meighan’s vocals just sitting above the unremitting white noise. Somehow, it works. Whether it heralds a whole new direction is unknown, but it’s a pleasing departure all the same.

Daniel Powter – of all people – makes a comeback this week, with the inoffensive melodies and cheesy strum of Cupid. And yes, it inevitably does rhyme ‘Cupid’ with ‘stupid’. There’s very, very little to say about it. It’s every bit the hackneyed Jason Mraz sound you’d expect, and the few ears that might actually respond positively won’t even hear it, as you’d be hard pushed to find a single radio station that might consider it relevant. *disappears in puff of smoke*

Single of the Week is bestowed upon one of the few genuine talents in last year’s X Factor, the refreshing Misha B. Her debut release Home Run begins life as a gushy, soul-heavy Jennifer Hudson tribute, but kicks in after mere seconds with a fistful of pure attitude and an electro-dancehall backdrop. No wonder Tulisa turned to underhand tactics to deny Misha of viewer votes – Home Run absolutely tears the diabolical Young to shreds without even breaking a sweat.

And finally, an act who are about as country-and-western as the UK will allow, and even then, it takes a Gary Barlow/Cheryl Cole rendition to get noticed. Yes, it’s Lady Antebellum, who try to hurry things along from Need You Now’s resurgence with the AOR ballad Wanted You More. It’s hardly groundbreaking stuff, but a slightly rockier, larger sound, complete with grand strings and an engaging piano riff bring the whole thing to quite an impressive climax. Who saw that coming?!

Macy Gray - Covered (429 Records)

Rewind 13 years, and it was hard to picture Macy Gray achieving anything less than world domination. The acclaim flowed thick and fast, the sales figures rose quicker than river levels in a UK “drought” period, and her mantelpiece heaved under the weight of many an award.

But for whatever reason, things petered out for Macy Gray, and pretty quickly. So after a decade of non-starter albums and a ropey stint on Dancing With The Stars, she’s decided to return with what can either be described as a clever move or a desperate gimmick: a covers album.

A subdued start via Eurythmics’ Here Comes The Rain Again may not be the huge, audible bang needed to kickstart a record, but it’s a tender, affected and stirring rendition. There’s no overall theme on Covered; merely a selection of tracks given the once-over, and for the most part, successfully.

It’s a fairly predictable exercise on Radiohead’s Creep, but in all fairness, there’s little that can be done with Creep without it verging on sacrilege. Similarly, it’s no huge surprise on Metallica’s Nothing Else Matters.

However, her take on My Chemical Romance’s Teenagers is truly inspired. The melody is adhered to strictly, but a plinky, jazz-lite arrangement almost gives it a bizarre lullaby quality. And the frenetic, quickening race through Maps by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs is brimming with character.

I Try makes an appearance in the form of an ill-advised skit, in which the odious Nicole Scherzinger rips the piss out of Alanis Morissette, Shakira and Britney Spears. It’s hard not to wonder whether the latter comes from some X Factor-related sour grapes, but whatever the hell it is, Covered isn’t the place for it.

On the subject of I Try, it was a track which, in spite of its successes, proved to be quite the albatross. There were those who identified its classically-brilliant songwriting but didn’t take to the package Gray offered as a performer; and since, there’s been those who have stamped her with the one-hit wonder tag.

What Covered does is underline exactly what Gray can do as an artist. These are songs that are (largely) well-known and much-loved, and thus, the only scrutiny to apply to the project is based solely on the choices Macy Gray makes as a vocalist. And while the Marmite quality is still indubitably there, Covered is an album of personality, of intelligent choices, and of tracks which showcase a genuinely unique talent rather nicely indeed.

Single Reviews 17/06/12

Welcome to this week’s Single Reviews. And completely by accident, it’s a ballad special here on The Sloppy Dog. If this were a late-night radio station, we’d be introducing it as ‘back-to-back love songs’ in a deep, husky voice, inviting you to get squelchy with your significant other until a vulgar ad for 118 Maureen curtly interrupts proceedings.

We’ll ease you gently into the Single Reviews with Fiona Apple, whose comeback starts with the hushed, fluffy Every Single Night. In fact, it’s barely even there. Obviously, this is Fiona Apple – no Dr Luke production or Flo Rida cameos here, but even within the sphere of what she can do, it’s hard not to be perplexed by the melody-lite stillness. And it doesn’t say much about her musical legacy when the first thing that comes to mind is an Officer Barbrady quote.

Stooshe’s second single (or fourth, depending on your perspective) comes in the form of Black Heart, a Shaznay Lewis-penned ballad with Motown leanings and huge vocals. After the noise made by Love Me, it does well to show a different side to them, but ultimately, isn’t quite up to the same quality. Still, in a world where The Saturdays are the UK’s biggest girlband, a group like Stooshe are a very welcome proposition.

From an exciting, ballsy pop group to... well, One Direction. Aside from What Makes You Beautiful, you’d be hard pushed to recall anything else they’ve done. Unless you’re a rabid 14-year-old Twitter-hijacker, that is. They’ve not done a bad job on More Than This, a melodious ballad precision-engineered to induce tears in females under a certain age. And hey, releasing a slowie gives them an excuse to not dance. Y’know, aside from the fact they CAN’T dance.

And off the back of that, it’s ironic that an indie band can do vocal harmonies better than a boyband. Case in point: The Futureheads, with their frankly peculiar acapella single Beeswing. Save for the occasional finger-snap, it’s nothing but voices, as is the case with the entire Rant album. It’s a strange move, but Beeswing is blokey, full of character, and unashamedly Geordie. And bravery deserves rewarding, so it’s a well-warranted Single of the Week.

Honking Box Preview: The Voice Final

Amidst all the fanfare about the Diamond Jubilee, the onslaught of the Olympics, and the impending European Championships, the fast-approaching final of the inaugural series of The Voice UK hasn’t quite grabbed the attention of the nation. But is it that it’s gotten lost amongst the numerous other events, or has the show itself gotten it all wrong?

When the series was first announced, our main worry was that the BBC wouldn’t give it the budget or the hype that it required, following in the limping footsteps of So You Think You Can Dance. But, in fairness to Auntie, the show has been gifted a healthy, impact-making budget, and a real sense of event.

So where exactly has it failed? Or has it even failed at all? Of course, detractors (and rabid Will Young devotees) are quick to call it a flop, and the ratings do give that theory some credibility, but it’s certainly got the nation talking, and numbers-wise, has hardly plummeted in a pattern emulating Celebrity Wrestling.

The main problem seems to be that the series is back-to-front – it begins with the most exciting component, and goes downhill from there. The blind auditions caught everyone’s attention, and wiped the floor with Britain’s Got Talent. The battle rounds were pretty clumsy, but still made for an interesting twist. Then we come to the live shows, and it’s pretty much Fame Academy all over again.

Quite how we’d do Series Two differently, it’s hard to say. Where it’d take all of 20 minutes to come up with a lengthy and detailed list of how to improve The X Factor, it’s difficult to determine exactly what needs to happen to The Voice. It’s entertaining, it’s found some great talent, but it’s lacking that certain something you can’t quite put your finger on... that ‘x’ factor. Cripes.

Back to Series One, and the final is looking fairly interesting, in that at least 75% of the acts have a decent shot at an actual music career. It’s a shame the exceptional Ruth Brown fell at the last hurdle, but it was hard to overlook her shambolic version of Emeli Sande’s Next To Me the previous week, in which she contorted her face into that of Pumbaa whilst taking a massive dump all over the concept of enunciation.

So, who are we left with?

Tyler James

Heading up Team Will – and far more deserving of a place in the final than Jaz Ellington, whose backdrop of his wife’s 15-foot-high face was irrevocably tasteless – is nu-blues proto-crooner Tyler. The most we know about Tyler as far as the show’s official storyline goes is that he was mates with Amy Winehouse. They’ve failed to mention he supported her on tour numerous times, and has a selection of Top 40 hits under his belt. But he’s got something fairly special, and The Voice might just give him the break he very nearly had six years ago.

Likely position: 2nd

Leanne Mitchell

Team Tom was never the most contemporary line-up, a point proven by its last hope, Leanne. She boasts some impressive pipes, but everything about her screams cruise ship. The best she can hope for beyond The Voice is a half-decent stage career – a touring production of Blood Brothers, perhaps? Or, more realistically, the Fairy Godmother in Cinderella at the Stockport Garrick opposite Gary Lucy and Siren from Gladiators?

Likely position: 4th

Vince Kidd

...Or, to go by the name on his birth certificate, the little one from Futureproof. But Vince has been proof of just how stifling The X Factor is, unleashing an outlandish, gritty, shamelessly camp musician. A good representative for Team Jessie, Vince probably offers the most unique qualities of all the remaining acts, but that could well go against him. Come on – do you really see Middle England voting for the peroxide dwarf in the wife-beater and the vinyl leggings?

Likely position: 3rd

Bo Bruce

Maybe Danny O’Donoghue had the right idea filling his team with interchangeable pubescent white boys – it only served to highlight the brilliance of Bo Bruce. She’s been likened to Diana Vickers, Dolores O’Riordan and Alex Parks – all of which are fair comparisons – but there’s a real sense of quiet artistry about Baroness Bo that should see her crowned the winner, and a deserving one at that.

Likely position: 1st

But where Bo will go from here is the real acid test. Will she rush-release a clunky covers album to cash in on the series, or take her time to cultivate her sound until the public have forgotten her altogether? Presumably, they can’t get it as catastrophically wrong as Syco manage to get it, year in, year out, but it’s worth noting that, as far as the public are concerned, the mark of a talent show’s success isn’t ratings or column inches. It’s talent. And if The Voice can handle that talent correctly, it should set itself up pretty nicely for Series Two, and beyond.