In which The Author marks the change of season
My Facebook News Feed has been interesting this evening. A lot of my pals have spent the day in Cardiff, it seems. For the most part, they’ve headed to Comic Con and/or Mardi Gras – either way, there’s a fair chance of bumping into John Barrowman, who seems to be everywhere at once! I would have gone down myself (there was also an anti-war demo taking place this afternoon) but one of the perils of freelancing is the unreliable cashflow situation. When your clients decide to take a late summer break, so does your bank account.
Of my stay-at-home friends, there seems to be a fairly even split. Many of my female friends are wetting their knickers at the prospect of what is little more than televised live suicide. Meanwhile, their better halves have resigned themselves to nearly four months of this crap, and taken solace in football and/or beer. I don’t blame them.
My good friend Neil R. has just marked the coming of Autumn and the inevitable slow decline to Xmas on Facebook. I quote his status update of about half an hour ago (entirely without his permission):
OMG, I’ve just been reminded me that the X-Factor is coming back on TV. Could someone pass me a bucket please? I need to vomit desperately. Yet another slew of talentless plastic clones to be churned out by the Cowell marketing machine.
My friend Lucy G. (who really can sing) failed to get through the X Factor audition stage in Cardiff. By way of contrast, a guy from Aberdare got on the TV a few years ago. He really thought he was in with a chance. Shanara and her sisters actually know the poor deluded soul. They put me onto this clip. Just watch the faces of the judges, and especially Cheryl’s Cole’s reaction when he finally gets cut off. Even if you don’t watch any other video I’ve linked on my blog so far, you really must watch this:
It’s a sad reflection of our society that the
Simon Cowell Music Industry has managed to stitch up the coveted Xmas UK No 1 slot every year for the last decade or so – with the noteworthy exception of 2009. That year, a concerted Consumer Fightback put the mighty Rage Against The Machine at the top of the charts instead. Killing in the Name might have sounded incongruous on the Xmas Day Top of the Pops, but it was all done with downloads.
Conceding that we’d won fair and square, the BBC actually invited Rage Against The Machine into the studio to play their song on Radio 5 Live. After all, manipulating the market is easy enough these days. You just need a viral campaign on (say) Facebook and Twitter, and enough disillusioned people to fork out 79p, and the job’s a good ‘un…
Anyway, Neil’s entirely understandable outburst prompted me to rewrite a well-known Yuletide poem.
X-Factor-mas is coming,
Cowell’s wallet’s getting fat.
Some talentless no-hoper
Is going to look a twat.
If you’re not a karaoke singer,
Just sit back and watch the show,
And Simon Cowell’s bank balance
Will grow and grow and grow.