From thanking sponsors to crowning professionals Rak-Su the winners… how X Factor has lost its edge
A TELLING moment at the end of Sunday’s X Factor final as Simon Cowell acknowledged those who really “made it all possible”.
Not the contestants, the judges, Dermot O’Leary, the viewers or even Nicole Scherzinger’s local off-licence. No, the people he most wanted to thank were . . . “Just Eat”, the Eamonn Holmes Post-it note who “paid for all this”.
So, yeah, thanks guys and, erm, well sponsored.
Everyone at Just Eat must be thrilled with the final of X Factor 2017, which, on the plus side, got the winner most people wanted and predicted, Rak-Su.
On the down side, however, it did seem to confirm the show’s over and devoid of all the fun, spontaneity, eccentricity, annual parade-of-the crazies and everything else that made it fun to watch in the first place.
Probably due to pressure from The Voice, you see, The X Factor now takes itself ridiculously seriously. In fact, it’s less a television show these days, more a marketing process, meaning there was a rigid no-risk structure to everything that happened over the weekend.
Rak-Su, Grace Davies and the French bloke they desperately wanted to come third would say how much it meant to have their family with them, or duet with Naughty Boy/Paloma Faith/someone else.
Their song would be followed by a compulsory standing ovation, one of the judges would then order everyone to “pick up their phones”, while Dermot insisted, “It’s the public calling the shots, this year”, without somehow curling up into a little ball of embarrassment and screaming: “What has become of my life?”
’Cos you can see for yourself the public really isn’t calling the shots on The X Factor. It’s the Ryanair of talent shows, all but tipping its customers upside down for their spare loose change as it takes them somewhere they really don’t need to go.
All of Simon’s usual cash cows were joining in on Saturday and Sunday, of course. James Arthur, Little Mix, Louis Tomlinson and George Shelley from Union J, among others.
And if any element of the show wasn’t contributing to Syco’s funds directly then, I’m guessing, like the Watford top Rak-Su gave Simon, it was up on eBay fairly sharpish.
The most important parts of the product, though, were undoubtedly Rak-Su and Grace, who were identified as the preferred two finalists months ago, hence the reason they weren’t allowed to compete against each other until the live shows reached the semi-final stage and it was unavoidable.
They’re both admirably talented, obviously. What they weren’t, however, were the wide-eyed newcomers The X Factor used to claim it wanted to transform into stars.
Rak-Su were recording professionally before the series started and Grace was first talent-scouted by Simon’s Syco label as long ago as 2014.
It makes a mockery of all those poor, innocent fools who queued up alongside them at the auditions in good faith, obviously.
But if you’re wondering why they took no chances this year, you must have missed the news about Matt Terry, last year’s winner, whose new album has just ram-raided the charts at No29, eight places below Anton Du Beke’s debut, From The Top.
If Matt’s struggling, then God knows what’s happening to 5 After Midnight.
It doesn’t look good, though.
As we learned on Saturday, Simon’s got a new boyband, who are the apple of his eye, for the next 15 minutes.
They’re called Pretty Much and they’ve got a new single called . . . called. Oh sod it, Simon couldn’t remember what it was called. Buy it anyway, folks. The man's gotta eat.
RANDOM TV IRRITATIONS
- Passive-aggressive Kezia Dugdale stereotyping Stanley Johnson as, “Old, white, male, pale and stale”, after boring the nation rigid on I’m A Celeb.
- Tamara “Like” Ecclestone upping this week’s “like” count to an astonishing 79 in one ITVBe hour.
- The BBC compliance unit lumbering Have I Got News For You with someone called Desiree Burch. All those hundreds of useless, state-approved comedians, like Adam Hills, who think it’s their duty to be political rather than funny.
- And radioactively smug Glaswegian stand-up Larry Dean opening his BBC2 Live At The Apollo set with: “If you’re trying to place my accent . . . it’s from The EU.” As in, eeh, you tosser.
'Borg to tears of sex bots
THE week’s most startling documentary was always going to be The Sex Robots Are Coming on Channel 4, which, sure enough, went off like a cross between Deliverance and the worst episode of Doctor Who you’ve never seen.
It also involved the almost compulsory journey to California, where an artificial intelligence company, Realbotix, is attempting to market the world’s first talking bonk-droid, called Harmony, who’s been programmed to have “realistic sex” and, to my slight astonishment, do it with a Scottish accent.
I dunno if this involves her barking, “Get aff, yer pished,” at about two in the morning but, apparently, you can change Harmony’s settings to your favoured “disposition”.
So she can be “talkative and moody” (standard Glaswegian), or “silently bloody furious”, the deluxe Dundonian version, I’m imagining.
If you were wondering what sort of socially inadequate misfit would actually spend £8,000 for the pleasure, though, Channel 4 had the answer.
And, I need hardly tell you, he was to be found in America’s Deep South.
Meet Georgian James, 58, who had a long-suffering wife, Tine, three sex dolls and a disclaimer: “Obviously, I’ll never be a Brad Pitt.”
His brother, Cess, maybe, but not Brad.
After an opening bombshell, however, where he admitted one of his dolls, Roxanne, was second-hand, there was only one place dark enough left for Sex Robots to go.
James met Harmony, Harmony met James. There was a discreet burst of Etta James’ At Last and a message from the “proud sponsor”.
Mitsubishi Mirage. Making you long for nuclear Armageddon, with documentaries on Four.
TV GOLD
- Lee Mack’s stuffed mouse fib on Would I Lie To You?.
- Prince Harry dodging fog-horning asteroid Alison Hammond live on This Morning.
- ITV’s Australian Wilderness with Ray Mears continuing to be television’s most beautifully relaxing half-hour of the week.
- Bushra’s toe-curling food box pitch on The Apprentice.
- And another unforgettable episode of Michael McIntyre’s Big Show, where the preamble to Celebrity Send-To-All found the host scrolling through page after page of alarm calls on Alan Shearer’s mobile.
“Alan. Are you a narcoleptic?”
Piers is no Prince
GOOD Morning Britain, Tuesday, Meghan Markle’s “friend” Piers Morgan asks: “What’s Prince Harry got that I haven’t?”
The public’s affection, a certain sense of humility, a distinguished military record, a degree of charisma, a body mass index lower than his age, the regulation number of chins, an unrestricted view of his genitals and a mouth that doesn’t twitch like Watership Down’s sphincter during a myxomatosis outbreak whenever someone else talks.
Among other things.
Lookalikes
- Sent in by Iain Milne, via email. Picture research: Alfie Snelling.
JP's here to help Phil time
THERE was the best pound-for-pound for soap substitution ever last week on EastEnders, which has started to show vague signs of life after a couple of years of dull storylines and sermonising.
Outgoing? Lee Ryan, from Blue, who couldn’t have fitted his character’s name any more perfectly. Woody.
Incoming? It’s only Hollywood star Patrick Bergin, who was playing Julia Roberts’ husband 26 years ago but is now Phil Mitchell’s old Irish cellmate, JP, and finds himself being offered “a sausage sandwich” by Gillian “Kathy” Taylforth (in the cafe, rather than an A1 slip road).
You’d hope it doesn’t put him off, though. JP’s a welcome distraction from EastEnders’ evils-of-capitalism yarn about Willmott-Brown’s plan to flatten the Square and hopefully a criminal outlet for the dangerously under-employed Phil Mitchell, who’s just been given this franchise-ending ultimatum by Sharon.
“They’re doing 20 per cent off back, sack and crack today. You need to open yourself up to all possibilities.”
Which is all very well for her to say.
But doing them WHERE exactly, Sharon? ’Cos unless it’s Chimpnasium at Whipsnade, he’s going with plan B. We all pray.
QUIZ SHOW NUMBSKULLS OF THE WEEK
THIS week’s quiz show bone domes are all supplied by The Chase.
- Bradley Walsh: “The name of what bird also means to lower the head quickly?”
Suzanne: “Ostrich.” - “What word goes before squib in a term for something less impressive than expected.”
Dannielle: “Ball.” - “Traditionally, what team does Feyenoord play in Dutch football’s Klassieker?”
Tom: “Striker.” - “What’s the minimum number of card players needed to play the game snap?”
Paige: “Six.”
Oww, Alison
WORST noise of the year? The sonic boom at Meghan Markle’s royal walkabout in Nottingham coming from This Morning’s Alison Hammond, who promised us: “She’s talking to a person, so I won’t be rude.” Then began screaming:
“MEGS! MEGS! MEGS. MEEEEEEEEEEGS! HA-HA HAAAA! MEGS! MEGS! HA-HA. MEGS!”
Five minutes of that din later, This Morning’s idea of respite came in the form of Rylan Clark-Neal.
“You’ve got to love Alison Hammond, haven’t you?” No. You really haven’t.
MOST READ IN OPINION
Great Sporting Insights
- Charlie Nicholas: “It was a challenge on so-called Scott Sinclair.”
- Sam Allardyce: “Brighton are halfway up the league in the top half.”
- Paul Merson: “When Hazard got the ball, United rustled his feathers.”
- And Roy Keane: “Without taking anything away from Spurs, Madrid didn't look themselves."
(Compiled by Graham Wray)
TV QUIZ
Who said the following on ITVBe last month: “I’m worried she won’t be able to wipe her poo. She’s not ready for that yet.”
A) Kindergarten-bound Tamara Ecclestone on her daughter, Fifi?
B) Kindergarten-bound Fifi on Tamara Ecclestone?