It’s the weekend, it’s way past pay day, it’s snowing like a “muva fuker” outside (or so I am reliably informed by my brother’s facebook status.) the result of the aforementioned being that it has been a weekend of intense TV viewing. All those jolly festive songs fail to sum up how tedious this can be.
The weather outside is frightful,
The TV is so inviting,
And Since we’ve no place to go,
We can watch a drawn out results show.
This week someone sneezed in the direction of Casa de X-Factor causing all contestants to be struck down by what is known in the biz as the snivels. Boo Fucking Hoo! I’m not saying that people shouldn’t moan about getting a cold. It’s fucking awful and the only way to find happiness in such a situation is to spread your misery by telling people how shitty you feel. BUT there has to be a line drawn somewhere and using ITV as your germy, moaning, woe is me mouth piece has to be crossing that line.
One Direction (who must surely now be the favourites to win this year) performed chasing cars which was fitting for a band made up of five lads who look like puppies. But we all know what happens when you let puppies play on the road, accidents happen and this week’s accident happened over on the BBC where Ann Widdecombe (of backward bigotry fame) got voted off, meaning that the British viewing public will no longer have the option of seeing a graceless homophobe being dragged around a dance floor by a man with presumably enough gay friends to warrant dropping her on her noggin.
Sunday, that was cold. So cold that I watched countryfile. Which always reminds me of Sunday visits to my Gran's, where we would be shushed whilst the weather was on so she could concentrate on the taking of copious notes. She would then consult this book to check the weather for anyone professing an interest in visiting her during the next week. She is a bit of an odd lady but bloody organised, may I suggest a role for her in government, transport secretary perhaps or snow tsar.
This weeks countryfile consisted of twinkle toes Durham darling Matt Baker mating his sheep and spreading his hay. So far so countryside. Next was hunting with blood hounds, sounds controversial? yes? Well not to worry they dodged this bullet by hunting a woman. So, not controversial atall you see.
Next week will be the jumbo x-factor results post Ooo I bet you can hardly wait.
Showing posts with label X Factor. Show all posts
Showing posts with label X Factor. Show all posts
Tuesday, 7 December 2010
Tuesday, 23 November 2010
Take Away Those Children In Need
Children in Need, X Factor, The Trip
Children in Need (It’s Charity/10)
When I was wee my family always had a Children in Need/Red Nose Day tradition that I have carried on, but now that I am older and more cynical it really isn’t that nice and I don’t want you to judge me for it.
We order take away!
We sit in our warm house and gorge ourselves on the best of grease in a box and watch those hungry unfortunate blighters until we feel bloated and guilty enough to donate. Just a couple of quid mind, not the value of the take away we couldn’t possibly afford that.
But we shouldn’t let cynicism effect traditions, just ask the pope.
If it makes you think better of me this year’s takeaway was pretty poor. We were staying in the countryside you see and the problem with ordering ethnic food in the country side is that there is no one from a relevant ethnicity to cook it. The only Indian that I have seen in the town is an accountant and I am reliably informed it would be counter to good race relations to expect him to be able to cook a curry let alone deliver it. When I once raised the lack of ethnic diversity it was pointed out to me that a gentleman on a neighbouring farm had started breeding alpaca, so I guess things are improving.
Anyway back to the Idiot Box:
This year’s award for the most genuinely amusing skit goes to Coronation Street and Eastender’s who offered up not their usual tongue in cheek musical number but a mini sit-com which saw the inhabitants of aforementioned areas partaking in a cultural exchange. Highlights included an Asian off between the two soaps Indian families, (think goodness gracious me in reverse) and one up man ship between Gail ‘the Gerbil’ Platt and her Eastender’s counterpart on the subject of who married the biggest psychopath.
The news casters put in their usual amount of effort, but it was disappointing to see the male newsreaders take a backseat to the girls. Has Jeremy Paxman ever partaken in a musical number? I would personally donate very generously to see him singing a song of disproportionate joy to his personality.
X Factor 5/10
X-Factor exposed two things this week the first being the train of stupid that is Cheryl Cole and the genuine (as opposed to pantomime) nastiness of Simon Cowell.
Following Wagner’s performance Cheryl Cole decided to unleash some rehearsed fury on Wagner sighting some remarks that he had made to a journalist about her being from a council estate. Whilst this wasn’t the time and the place for grievance to be aired Wagner handled it brilliantly pointing out the unreliability of the British media and talking about her as a role model in glowing terms.
On a separate note they have obviously decided to continue to mispronounce Wagner’s name as some kind of joke, not only is this unbelievably rude it also makes them all look rather stupid as Wagner isn’t exactly an uncommon pronunciation. World famous composer, anyone? I don’t think that even the most ignorant of the panel isn’t aware of this.
Cheryl Cole, the ‘mentor’ of Cher Lloyd (you know the one who raps a bit and was looking slightly relevant at the start of the show). We were led to believe that this week John Lennon’s Imagine was chosen for her to sing by Cheryl, we were also led to believe that Cheryl (as we are with all the mentors) chose the cleaver spiral stair case staging. For those of you who didn’t know a spiral staircase was pertinent as it was modelled on that of the Bank St apartment shared by John and Yoko. Mr. Cowell clearly was aware of this and pressed Cheryl on her reasons for making the choice knowing full well that the choice hadn’t been hers and that she was clueless about its relevance but also knowing that she had to act as though the decision was entirely hers. For anyone still under any illusions that ‘mentors’ actually play much of a role I think this is some more evidence to contradict that script.
The Trip 4/10
I’ve decided. I don’t like it that much. The melancholy drama is genius but the improvised dialogue in the restaurants gets a little tedious.
I’m going to see Harry Potter tonight… Just so you know…
Children in Need (It’s Charity/10)
When I was wee my family always had a Children in Need/Red Nose Day tradition that I have carried on, but now that I am older and more cynical it really isn’t that nice and I don’t want you to judge me for it.
We order take away!
We sit in our warm house and gorge ourselves on the best of grease in a box and watch those hungry unfortunate blighters until we feel bloated and guilty enough to donate. Just a couple of quid mind, not the value of the take away we couldn’t possibly afford that.
But we shouldn’t let cynicism effect traditions, just ask the pope.
If it makes you think better of me this year’s takeaway was pretty poor. We were staying in the countryside you see and the problem with ordering ethnic food in the country side is that there is no one from a relevant ethnicity to cook it. The only Indian that I have seen in the town is an accountant and I am reliably informed it would be counter to good race relations to expect him to be able to cook a curry let alone deliver it. When I once raised the lack of ethnic diversity it was pointed out to me that a gentleman on a neighbouring farm had started breeding alpaca, so I guess things are improving.
Anyway back to the Idiot Box:
This year’s award for the most genuinely amusing skit goes to Coronation Street and Eastender’s who offered up not their usual tongue in cheek musical number but a mini sit-com which saw the inhabitants of aforementioned areas partaking in a cultural exchange. Highlights included an Asian off between the two soaps Indian families, (think goodness gracious me in reverse) and one up man ship between Gail ‘the Gerbil’ Platt and her Eastender’s counterpart on the subject of who married the biggest psychopath.
The news casters put in their usual amount of effort, but it was disappointing to see the male newsreaders take a backseat to the girls. Has Jeremy Paxman ever partaken in a musical number? I would personally donate very generously to see him singing a song of disproportionate joy to his personality.
X Factor 5/10
X-Factor exposed two things this week the first being the train of stupid that is Cheryl Cole and the genuine (as opposed to pantomime) nastiness of Simon Cowell.
Following Wagner’s performance Cheryl Cole decided to unleash some rehearsed fury on Wagner sighting some remarks that he had made to a journalist about her being from a council estate. Whilst this wasn’t the time and the place for grievance to be aired Wagner handled it brilliantly pointing out the unreliability of the British media and talking about her as a role model in glowing terms.
On a separate note they have obviously decided to continue to mispronounce Wagner’s name as some kind of joke, not only is this unbelievably rude it also makes them all look rather stupid as Wagner isn’t exactly an uncommon pronunciation. World famous composer, anyone? I don’t think that even the most ignorant of the panel isn’t aware of this.
Cheryl Cole, the ‘mentor’ of Cher Lloyd (you know the one who raps a bit and was looking slightly relevant at the start of the show). We were led to believe that this week John Lennon’s Imagine was chosen for her to sing by Cheryl, we were also led to believe that Cheryl (as we are with all the mentors) chose the cleaver spiral stair case staging. For those of you who didn’t know a spiral staircase was pertinent as it was modelled on that of the Bank St apartment shared by John and Yoko. Mr. Cowell clearly was aware of this and pressed Cheryl on her reasons for making the choice knowing full well that the choice hadn’t been hers and that she was clueless about its relevance but also knowing that she had to act as though the decision was entirely hers. For anyone still under any illusions that ‘mentors’ actually play much of a role I think this is some more evidence to contradict that script.
The Trip 4/10
I’ve decided. I don’t like it that much. The melancholy drama is genius but the improvised dialogue in the restaurants gets a little tedious.
I’m going to see Harry Potter tonight… Just so you know…
Monday, 15 November 2010
Like Chucklevision with swearing or The Taming of the Shrew with jokes about buzzing off caffeine
The Increasingly Poor Decisions of Todd Margaret (More4) 7/10
New Look, be the trend… Not from what I have seen of the place and put them clothes back on sharpish you nympho lynx shoppers and you Mr. Lenny Mole Face pick up the pace, play the song how we want to hear it and don’t try telling me you actually like the equivalent of Michael Bubble in French beverage form. I’m watching The Increasingly Poor Decisions of some bloke on 4od so have to sit through the adverts. Skip on through them you think, wield your mouse of power. Not on your nelly! The crafty buggers at channel four have put a stop to this flippant disrespect for the craft of the ad man unless of course you’re watching it on Virgin in which case please skip away. Richard Branson pays schools of African children to watch the ads so you don’t have to. Good to know your rocketing subscription fee is going somewhere, eh.
Anyway fuck up shut tard, here we go with the TV review.
The Increasingly Poor Decisions of Todd Margaret… Really already, fuck of Mr Cluny I don’t want one of your la de dar coffee’s nor do I require a monkey sim…At least I don’t think I do, though I’m not entirely sure what it is. It may be integral in some way not known to me, though I doubt it… … … Yes definitely not necessary…And the program is back on. Where was I? The increasingly poor decisions of Todd Margaret is a frolic of a sit-com starring and co-written by arrested development’s (which, by the way if you haven’t seen you should) David Cross.
The set-up is willingly and so obviously contrived but forgivably so in what is essentially a farce (think Chucklevision with swearing or The Taming of the Shrew with jokes about buzzing off caffeine). I will issue you a consumer warning at this point: If you see the first few minutes and think “er what the fuck! I’m not watching this shit,” then go with your instincts, this good sir isn’t going to be for you. What follows is twenty minutes of falling over, foot in your mouth humour and the building of a house of shit made with sloppy bricks of stinking lies that you know will tumble sometime soon.
Fish out of water humour along with some satirical elements are sprinkled like lucky charm’s marshmallows over the episode and clocking in at just over twenty minutes I won’t have a problem tuning in next week as for the rest of the series, we shall see.
As is de rigueur a quick opinion on the X Factor: This week I don’t even care enough to be snide about it. That is all, Au revoir.
New Look, be the trend… Not from what I have seen of the place and put them clothes back on sharpish you nympho lynx shoppers and you Mr. Lenny Mole Face pick up the pace, play the song how we want to hear it and don’t try telling me you actually like the equivalent of Michael Bubble in French beverage form. I’m watching The Increasingly Poor Decisions of some bloke on 4od so have to sit through the adverts. Skip on through them you think, wield your mouse of power. Not on your nelly! The crafty buggers at channel four have put a stop to this flippant disrespect for the craft of the ad man unless of course you’re watching it on Virgin in which case please skip away. Richard Branson pays schools of African children to watch the ads so you don’t have to. Good to know your rocketing subscription fee is going somewhere, eh.
Anyway fuck up shut tard, here we go with the TV review.
The Increasingly Poor Decisions of Todd Margaret… Really already, fuck of Mr Cluny I don’t want one of your la de dar coffee’s nor do I require a monkey sim…At least I don’t think I do, though I’m not entirely sure what it is. It may be integral in some way not known to me, though I doubt it… … … Yes definitely not necessary…And the program is back on. Where was I? The increasingly poor decisions of Todd Margaret is a frolic of a sit-com starring and co-written by arrested development’s (which, by the way if you haven’t seen you should) David Cross.
The set-up is willingly and so obviously contrived but forgivably so in what is essentially a farce (think Chucklevision with swearing or The Taming of the Shrew with jokes about buzzing off caffeine). I will issue you a consumer warning at this point: If you see the first few minutes and think “er what the fuck! I’m not watching this shit,” then go with your instincts, this good sir isn’t going to be for you. What follows is twenty minutes of falling over, foot in your mouth humour and the building of a house of shit made with sloppy bricks of stinking lies that you know will tumble sometime soon.
Fish out of water humour along with some satirical elements are sprinkled like lucky charm’s marshmallows over the episode and clocking in at just over twenty minutes I won’t have a problem tuning in next week as for the rest of the series, we shall see.
As is de rigueur a quick opinion on the X Factor: This week I don’t even care enough to be snide about it. That is all, Au revoir.
Tuesday, 2 November 2010
A Horror History X Factor Trip
X Factor 3/10
A History of Horror 9/10
The Trip ?/10
Simon Cowell’s personality is a vacuous cavern so deep that it is playing havoc with the studio’s acoustics. Either that or the sound engineers only previous experience working with microphones was at the karaoke night in a Mcloed Gauge, “More echo Frank, you really need it to create an atmosphere in here.” (Oh yes I did. That was a Joke that requires knowledge of historic lab equipment used in the study of Vacuums, big up to the chuckling geeks.) But really what the fuck is going on with that echo. This week there was only the one outstanding performance, that of Rebecca Fergusson who oozed class although the fawning over Cher Lloyds performance from Simon Cowell suggested that he has picked his winner. However, I believe that Satin’s geometric haired smug monkey was more pleased with the fact that Cher will toe the line than with anything relating to her stretched vocals.
A warning to those who found this review by googling something relating to the X-Factor I am now going to talk about a documentary shown on BBC4. If you are one of the aforementioned go on find BBC4 on your telly you might learn something… Mark Gatiss (of league of Gentlemen fame) has produced what can only be described as a wonderful three part documentary series in which he looks at the three golden ages of Horror cinema (Fuck off Eli Roth you’re not invited). All his enthusiasm for the subject comes across without him going all Louis Theroux with the interviews. If you are quick you can still catch it on iplayer along with a few of the films discussed in full. I wouldn’t usually advise such unwholesome viewing but watch the documentary first and it all the guts and gore seems somewhat justified.
Here’s one to watch. The Trip is a sit-com starring Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon. Playing themselves the pair go on a road trip together to review a restaurants in ‘The North.’ Just one episode into the series and I am withholding judgement until I have seen some more. I advise you tune in just in case you are missing something special, so far it could go either way.
A History of Horror 9/10
The Trip ?/10
Simon Cowell’s personality is a vacuous cavern so deep that it is playing havoc with the studio’s acoustics. Either that or the sound engineers only previous experience working with microphones was at the karaoke night in a Mcloed Gauge, “More echo Frank, you really need it to create an atmosphere in here.” (Oh yes I did. That was a Joke that requires knowledge of historic lab equipment used in the study of Vacuums, big up to the chuckling geeks.) But really what the fuck is going on with that echo. This week there was only the one outstanding performance, that of Rebecca Fergusson who oozed class although the fawning over Cher Lloyds performance from Simon Cowell suggested that he has picked his winner. However, I believe that Satin’s geometric haired smug monkey was more pleased with the fact that Cher will toe the line than with anything relating to her stretched vocals.
A warning to those who found this review by googling something relating to the X-Factor I am now going to talk about a documentary shown on BBC4. If you are one of the aforementioned go on find BBC4 on your telly you might learn something… Mark Gatiss (of league of Gentlemen fame) has produced what can only be described as a wonderful three part documentary series in which he looks at the three golden ages of Horror cinema (Fuck off Eli Roth you’re not invited). All his enthusiasm for the subject comes across without him going all Louis Theroux with the interviews. If you are quick you can still catch it on iplayer along with a few of the films discussed in full. I wouldn’t usually advise such unwholesome viewing but watch the documentary first and it all the guts and gore seems somewhat justified.
Here’s one to watch. The Trip is a sit-com starring Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon. Playing themselves the pair go on a road trip together to review a restaurants in ‘The North.’ Just one episode into the series and I am withholding judgement until I have seen some more. I advise you tune in just in case you are missing something special, so far it could go either way.
Monday, 1 November 2010
Joe McElderry: Ambitions 4/10
Oh dear a whole day late, but if you had set yourself the task of reviewing what I had committed myself to reviewing this week you would have changed your bed sheets, rearranged your wallet, washed the neighbour’s dog, driven your granny to the whist drive and cooked a fiendishly difficult dinner before getting round to pummelling this keyboard.
Seeing as you can’t turn a page at the moment without seeing the X-factor why should I be the one to buck this trend. This week I have been listening to the tones of Joe McElderry (very quietly in headphones, God help me if anyone overheard). For those of you who don’t know Joe was the winner of the X-factor 2009. After winning the competition he released a cover of ‘The Climb’ a song made famous by Smiley Virus with more plush production than misery in a job centre.
The album starts off with single ‘Ambitions.’ To say that a reality TV star’s album opening with its single is usually a bad sign is somewhat of an overstatement, but here we are. The single however deserves to be remarked upon as it sees Joe move away from the ballads that he made his brand during his weekly TV appearances. Ambitions, like the majority of this album is disco with a big pink D, I, S, C and yes even the O. I can’t imagine that the folks at Cowell Towers were too delighted when Joe was announced as their winner. Grannies loved him, kids loved him and Newcastle loved him but these aren’t exactly the most committed of record buyers (unless he had slipped a version of the Blaydon Races onto his debut.)
After the opening track the album moves through over produced rockier moments, sing a long choruses, cringe worthy ballads (Superman being the main protagonist in this assault on decency) and officially ends on the Disney saturated The Climb. Now this is where the album gets really interesting. Let the CD run for 5 minutes and in thumps the crushing guitars of a cover of Rage Against the Machine’s Killing in the Name of showing that Joe has put all the unpleasantness of last Christmas behind him. You don’t believe me do you? It’s really there I promise.
Joe comes across as being the classic nice guy so it is a shame for him that come next year he will be more than likely be forgotten about replaced by someone less likeable but with more interesting songs.
Listen if you like: George Michael , Scissor Sisters and South Shields.
Stand Out Tracks: Ambitions, Until the Stars Run Out, Fahrenheit
Monday, 25 October 2010
Do you have the X Factor? No but I do have a massive wang.
The Inbetweeners Series Three 8/10
The X Factor 6/10
This week’s TV digest will focus on some nobs acting like pricks and some dicks singing in front of a panel of golden wangs. In honour of one (or both) of these programs it may also contain one or two phallic references.
So let us get started with the Inbetweeners. For those of you who don’t know the Inbetweeners follows some ‘typical’ teenage boys (typical in that they are colossal wankers) and is written by at least one of the brains that brought us ‘Flight of the Conchords.’ Will, a socially awkward geek has to transfer from a private school to the local comprehensive to complete his A-levels. There he is befriended by three misfits: lovable but easily led Simon, brash and boastful Jay and Neil who is as thick as two short planktons. Series Three finds the quartet in the upper sixth and still pre-occupied by the holy trinity of booze, parties and ‘clunge’ (a new word for me but one that apparently refers to a vagina as in the phrase “Balls deep in clunge.”)
I am so ashamed that I like this program that was I to be watching it in your presence I wouldn’t laugh, quite the opposite. I would dig my nails (specially grown for the occasion, you didn’t just drop in) into my thighs and think of Gordon Brown speaking on fiscal prudence instead of letting you know which nob joke or teenage sexual fallacy I found so amusing. I have to admit that the show does parallel some of my school experience (although the characters do seem to be a little old for some of their behaviour) I certainly met a Neil and the Jay character can be found in all schools private or comprehensive. In honour of Jay I will leave this section with my top three sex boasts that I remember hearing at school:
3. “Yeah we do all sorts, last night she tit wanked in front of me.” It turned out he believed a ‘tit wank’ was when a girl QUOTE: “Wanks her nipple till milk comes out.”
2. I had sex at the top of the Eiffel Tower with a French girl I met in the lift. I don’t have her name or number because she didn’t speak English.
1. I broke my wrist when I was fingering a bird on the bus and it hit a bump.
Now that we have dealt with that filth let us move on to the glitter infused, self-congratulatory public stooge fest that is the X Factor.
The X Factor is currently in that awkward phase of the program where most of the nutters have been weeded out but the field still stinks of mediocrity. Few of us in the public have much invested in any of the acts and at this point we can all pick out at least five contestants who will be making their way to the openings of grim shopping centres over the next five weeks or so. Yet we watch. This weekend’s shows offered the following highlights:
• The Arctic Monkey’s arrangement of ‘Diamonds are Forever’ being dragged out from somewhere.
• Katie singing a song from the jungle book.
• Rebecca Fergusson appearing with what appeared to be her abscess twin attached to her hip.
I would like to comment on one final thing, the length of the program. Where the hell is all the extra content coming from? The format certainly hasn’t changed. I have a theory; let us look at the Cream egg: 1.They are definitely getting smaller each year. 2. You can’t destroy or create energy. Conclusion: that bastard Simon Cowell is shrinking our cream eggs and using the left over energy to make the X factor longer than ever.
Tut tut Simon Tut tut.
The X Factor 6/10
This week’s TV digest will focus on some nobs acting like pricks and some dicks singing in front of a panel of golden wangs. In honour of one (or both) of these programs it may also contain one or two phallic references.
So let us get started with the Inbetweeners. For those of you who don’t know the Inbetweeners follows some ‘typical’ teenage boys (typical in that they are colossal wankers) and is written by at least one of the brains that brought us ‘Flight of the Conchords.’ Will, a socially awkward geek has to transfer from a private school to the local comprehensive to complete his A-levels. There he is befriended by three misfits: lovable but easily led Simon, brash and boastful Jay and Neil who is as thick as two short planktons. Series Three finds the quartet in the upper sixth and still pre-occupied by the holy trinity of booze, parties and ‘clunge’ (a new word for me but one that apparently refers to a vagina as in the phrase “Balls deep in clunge.”)
I am so ashamed that I like this program that was I to be watching it in your presence I wouldn’t laugh, quite the opposite. I would dig my nails (specially grown for the occasion, you didn’t just drop in) into my thighs and think of Gordon Brown speaking on fiscal prudence instead of letting you know which nob joke or teenage sexual fallacy I found so amusing. I have to admit that the show does parallel some of my school experience (although the characters do seem to be a little old for some of their behaviour) I certainly met a Neil and the Jay character can be found in all schools private or comprehensive. In honour of Jay I will leave this section with my top three sex boasts that I remember hearing at school:
3. “Yeah we do all sorts, last night she tit wanked in front of me.” It turned out he believed a ‘tit wank’ was when a girl QUOTE: “Wanks her nipple till milk comes out.”
2. I had sex at the top of the Eiffel Tower with a French girl I met in the lift. I don’t have her name or number because she didn’t speak English.
1. I broke my wrist when I was fingering a bird on the bus and it hit a bump.
Now that we have dealt with that filth let us move on to the glitter infused, self-congratulatory public stooge fest that is the X Factor.
The X Factor is currently in that awkward phase of the program where most of the nutters have been weeded out but the field still stinks of mediocrity. Few of us in the public have much invested in any of the acts and at this point we can all pick out at least five contestants who will be making their way to the openings of grim shopping centres over the next five weeks or so. Yet we watch. This weekend’s shows offered the following highlights:
• The Arctic Monkey’s arrangement of ‘Diamonds are Forever’ being dragged out from somewhere.
• Katie singing a song from the jungle book.
• Rebecca Fergusson appearing with what appeared to be her abscess twin attached to her hip.
I would like to comment on one final thing, the length of the program. Where the hell is all the extra content coming from? The format certainly hasn’t changed. I have a theory; let us look at the Cream egg: 1.They are definitely getting smaller each year. 2. You can’t destroy or create energy. Conclusion: that bastard Simon Cowell is shrinking our cream eggs and using the left over energy to make the X factor longer than ever.
Tut tut Simon Tut tut.
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