The X Factor – Week Three…

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September 2, 2012 by sshhoobbmmxxbblloogg

Another week, another gripping round of X Factor hopefuls parading in front of the judges, like sacrifical (and sometimes delusional) lambs.

Kicking things off was a motormouth magicians assistant / stripper / embarrassment to humanity  whose crotch thrusting and dubstep “re-imagining” left St Gary or Barlow and the Church of Take That (TM) nursing a quarter-chub and vomiting in his mouth. Just a little.

There was the usual gormless, generically handsome trainee estate agent / JD sports worker ambling through a passable cover version. All hair and pop star wannabe nonsense. Vile.

A Katy B/Cher Lloyd hybrid, all shit circus folk inkwork and big red hair (possibly not the model’s own) warbling like a cat being given SARS.

Extra special awesomeness goes to 51 year old “young-un-at-heart” Alison, who was a miniature version of Denise Welch crossed with a candle. She bragged of being a lot like Madonna, dragged her dough faced kids with home cut hair along for the excruciating rendition of Lady Gaga’s “Edge of Glory”, and generally made the case for psychiatric evaluations being a mandatory part of the application process.

Apparently hay-fever had made her sound like a blender being gang raped….

There was the now common place semi-pissed, half coherent types, the misfits, miscreants and occasional fool.

There was a pretty boy with dead eyes doing Seven Nation Army. On an acoustic guitar. The maverick!!

Only saving grace was some mad ass woman with scary looking kids (this episode was clearly to raise awareness for bad pre-school outfitters and home hairdressing) who was a fairy.

Not the full time kind of course, that’d be ludicrous.

But credit where credit is due, homegirl ripped a Janis Joplin song a new one and proved that you really can’t judge a book by it’s cover. Her book, of course, would be all about kittens and double rainbows…… yuck!

And then came the judges;

Mel “HRT Spice” B was on fine form, slagging everyone off, for increasingly bizarre reasons St Gary of Barlow was his usual vanilla M&S self (gotta love the middle of the road-ness GB), Louis was a full time bridesmaid-on-heat. And Tulisa, well…. it’s hard to take her seriously. Partly because her mentor status stems from being in N-Dubz, and partly because you just imagine her getting throat fucked every six seconds.

Roll on next week!

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