Monday, August 22, 2005


I'd often wondered exactly who it was who watched the X-Factor, since anyone with a central nervous system surely finds it impossible to watch Sharon Osbourne for more than two or three minutes without trying to put their own eyes out with a pair of nail clippers. Yesterday, it all became clear, as having spent the morning playing at Darth Vader, the kids from the next street started to play at being Simon Cowell instead. No, really.

Meanwhile, the real thing is having a public spat with Steve Brookstein. Brookstein, who seems to be genuinely surprised that winning the programme last year that he hasn't ascended to heaven in a gilded Clairol Footspa. And, just as we imagine the suicide bombers feel when they discover that, actually, there aren't lots of virgins waiting for them, just a long drawn out future of being in pieces and very dead, Brookstein is keen to find someone else to blame for his disappointment. In Steve's view, it's all down to Simon Cowell, who "undermines artist's credibility" and the programme, which is "killing music."

Well, yes, Poindexter, but it's been running in one form or another for half a decade so why did you go on a programme like that? It's no good wailing "it's killing music and they're rude to the singers" when you'd have been at home watching the process since the start of the century.

Cowell, meanwhile, just returns the bitterness with some snide snark, saying that without the X-Factor, Brookstein would be a nobody. Which, again is true, although to be fair, even with the X-Factor, he's still a nobody.

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