The time has come again, X-Factor has invaded my living room. From the off, we see a gloriously dramatic introduction of the judges, nothing short of a Roman triumph. Does this program reflect our society? Do we all live to be judged by ‘peers’ in hope of obtaining stardom, a short road to ri-ches and fame. Or do we just love to watch others succeed, to see ‘real’ people flourish with a naturally obtained gift. 

 

I decided to sit and watch an episode. 

Why not? It's sure to be entertaining, at least.

 

I begin to struggle, at first with the concept (and Gary-fucking-Barlow), and then the execution. This is a program that amplifies success; adoration is poured over the celebrity judges, individuals who are mutually accepted to be 'experts' in the world of singing. But are they really? No, is the simple answer. What they are, in reality, are reality stars. Yeah, Gary and Louie fucked in some boy-band back when boy bands were still not cool and the hot one from Pussy Dolls can certainly sing. But so can some of these teary eyed worker bees from the colony, so why are they even there? 

 

I began to not give a shit. My temper was quickly overruled when the first comedy acts were put on, the usual high-squawking outcasts who's dreams are so similar to the faces behind the desk, they must be mentally impaired. Dismissed under the heckling of Ozzy's wife and and the unimpressed, boring gaze of  Gary-fucking-Barlow, they are met by, what I like to call, 'The Bridge'. 'The Bridge', AKA, Dermot O' Leary, likes to pat the fools on the back and call them 'mate', because he is their friend. Dermot represents the friendly, cheerful yet cheeky side to the program, he bridges the gap between judge and mob. Dermot is Ant and Dec rolled into one, with a prettier face and without a supermarket contract. He still has to work for his money. Dermot is their bitch. Talking to the failures, he asks them why it went wrong, because the obvious answer is just too easy. "I just didn't feel myself in there, I was nervous" is a common excuse, or: "Bleerghh". Denial is something we all love to witness, it empowers us, gives us an equal footing with the judges, who only 20 minutes earlier were being shown on a red carpet and exiting large, luxurious boats on wheels. We feel connected with them, because we shared a joke. Fuck you Dermot. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Enter the Justin Bieber tribute act. This soppy eyed, soft cheeked git with a guitar has 'covered' a Bieber song. How on earth you take something so artificially manufactured as a Bieber song and 'make it your own' is only comparable to the Horse Meat Scandal. Bieber is the cheap meat of the music industry, the 3-minute-dinner packed full of artificial happiness that kids just can't get enough of, because they know it's bad. This guy just cheated everyone by doing it slower and with a guitar. He is horse meat. This is where I found myself visualising evil and 

terrible ways to dispose of contestants. Images of a stunned hall packed with hopeful auditionees as a deafening gun shot echos from the judges room, followed by a stern "next!" and a casual shake of the head from Dermot, his arms folded. The X-Factor is bad for me. 

 

Unfortunately to me, shows like the X-Factor simply reflect a desperate and miserable avoidance of reality. This type of cheap entertainment is the reason why page 3 girls are referred to as 'page 3 models', because we refuse to accept the reality of what we are witnessing. Like the carrot on the stick, 'success' is only a bite away for the donkey carrying the load. But with shows like this, the carrot seems even easier to obtain. A fast track to riches, a chance to share in the plunder, you are forced to look inward and compare yourself to everyone else. Do you have the X-Factor? Are you special? Are you good enough to impress us? The answer is absolutely, regardless of how hopeless you are. We should be judging them, why are they so worth it? Or maybe I'm just taking it all too seriously.