Did we like it?
No. Never have so many viewers been attracted to something so undeserving of any attention (what’s wrong with those seven million people who tuned in?) Never has so much flattery been lavished on people so undeserving of praise.
What was good about it?
• We’re pleased that Richard Fleeshman won the final against the hopeless Andy Whyment. Richard seems a nice guy, he has lovely hair and his mother used to be Rover’s Return barmaid Gloria and Brookie lesbo-lite Jackie. Richard’s version of Moondance was near faultless and his Fathers & Son was miles better than Ronan Keating ever managed.
• Seeing the jealous faces of other soap flotsam in the audience (such as Emmerdale’s Andy – lovely body, pity about the face), wishing they’d been able to get on to this escape route from all that sex, violence and shouting they have to endure in soapland.
What was bad about it?
• Having to see the rejects lined up in the audience. Beppe, the fat one off Corrie (not Fred Elliot), the one was was really boring as Albert Square’s doctor etc. Go home. You’re finished.
• The judges – creepy American, glib Geordie, Liverpudlian lass in need of a shag – piling mindless superlative upon mindless superlative as if we were watching genuine talent. Even winner Richard will struggle to string two Top 20 hits together.
• Fern Britton and Ben Shephard aren’t good enough for primetime and should never be allowed on air after dark again.
• Richard Fleeshman’s gasping-in-shock face as the stupid judges hopelessly overrated his singing ability.
• Andy Whyment’s hideous bash at The Kinks’ You Really Got Me.
• The nauseating pride as Fern announced 100k was raised for charity while failing to mention that the oh-so-needy ITV had raked in probably four or five times that amount from stupid voters.