Week Two

Once more we writers at Television @ The Digital Fix have chained ourselves to our sofas and our laptops in order to write gripping, informative and entertaining commentary on one of the UK's biggest televisual events. But occasionally we just rant. Don't judge us too harshly — it is The X Factor.

Garry Pinches — aka, The Professional Musician
To those of you who read my comments on last weeks show you’ll be pleased to hear that I’ve calmed down somewhat over the week. This week’s show got off to a good start by having someone who could actually sing — and, I imagine, do a bloody good Frank Spencer impression. I’m pretty sure the producers comb the queue looking for the weirdest looking people so they can parade them on our television screens and we can all sit at home open mouthed in shock that someone who doesn’t look like a supermodel can actually sing. As we all know this is extremely rare in the real world — you can’t have a talent of any kind if you look just normal, let alone like the result of mutant offspring of a warthog and his twin sister.

I’ll skip over the marriage proposal of an obviously tone deaf couple straight to the guy who looked like he was going to start humping Kelly’s leg after declaring his love for her. This guy had a pretty good voice too but by far the best thing in my opinion was when asked his occupation and he replied with ‘I work at Burger King”. The whole of the O2 roared in applause, truly a landmark achievement for those in the fast food industry. The best I got when I worked at a McBurger joint was spat at.

Next up we get our first sob story of the series. Every serious musician should have one! I lost a shoe when I was eight and never quite got over it. Despite the sob story the girl could really bloody sing although I may never forgive her for ruining Rhythm & Blues by slipping in some Rap & Bollocks.

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Carole Jones — aka, The Mum
As I waited for the show to start, I’ve got my feet up, drink to hand and I’m waiting to be entertained. Derry Mensah made it very obvious how much he fancied Kelly Rowland as soon as he came on stage. A good looking young man who left the stage more on a high from the kiss he got from Kelly than the four yeses from the judges for his performance.
 
But we knew the rubbish was coming and we weren’t disappointed. There was P Knowledge, whose abs were 100% better than his voice, Stephan Romer who was wasn’t even bad enough to be memorable, followed by Mark Byron who couldn’t get a single note in tune.
 
The show moved to Liverpool with hopes of finding a group to follow in the footsteps of the Beatles but what we got was a succession of rubbish groups, then The Keys who seemed to impress everyone both by singing a cappella and rapping .
 
For me, this was a more positive show than last week. With tonight’s mixture of positive and negative performances, it would seem that they’ve gone back to the format that has been successful year after year. Roll on next week!

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Nick Bryan — aka, Mister Sensible
Last year, unintentionally, I ignored X Factor until the auditions were over. This year, I've decided that my past self was an accidental genius. Is it always this boring? The samey cycle of the embarrassingly bad and the good ones who have already been filmed at home. If not for other people's sarcastic remarks on Twitter, I can't imagine I'd have made it through.

And the judging panel, after last episode tried desperately to make me like them by playing up their personalities, didn't seem much of anything this week. Did they ever have anything other than unanimous yays or nays? Worse still, have they created a show where Louis Walsh gets all the best moments?

Oh, yeah, the acts. Misha, the final contestant, will still be there at the end, which could be more than I can say for myself if this doesn’t pick up. The slow pace and self-repeating here makes Torchwood: Miracle Day look like a brisk sprint.

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And finally, Amy Jones — aka, The Reluctant Obsessive
After the fiasco that was last week's episode, they've obviously decided to try and be a bit nicer this week. But only a little. The groups were the real source of ridicule. Bromance and married couple The Duos got it worse, but we also got a nice dollop of spite from Louis Walsh, who decided to ask a female singer if she was male or female, even though he almost certainly has the information in front of him, because she had a shirt and short hair rather than tits pushed up to her chin and blonde highlights.

Highlights were: Johnny, the man who would be a perfect drag act (I'm not being nasty — he really would), the boy who worked in a biscuit factory, looked like someone who will play a bullied boy on an episode of Glee in the future and sounded like Damien Rice, and our first sob story this year. Misha is 19 and was brought up by her auntie, who she clearly adores because she started crying when she talked about her. Then, looking like a beautiful and upmarket Christmas bauble, she utterly rocked a version of Aretha Franklin's "Respect", ruined only slightly by her demonstrating her rapping skills halfway through. Everyone wants to be Cher Llyod.

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