Poor Nicole Scherzinger, giving up Cats on Broadway for Matt Terry in Bromley
Sun columnist says X Factor is now the closest thing you’ll ever see to a television voodoo ceremony
CHRISTMAS is approaching, so please try to find some compassion in your hearts for poor old Nicole Scherzinger.
She was meant to be starring in Cats, on Broadway, last week.
One bad decision later, though.
She found herself sitting in a Kent bedsit, wearing a tiger-themed onesie, then pulling up in a bus outside the local Ann Summers shop, screaming: “HELLO BROM-LEEEEEEY.
“IT’S MATT TERREEEE.”
The perfect sob story to start this year’s X Factor final.
An event that’s always been a bit anti-climactic, but is now so long, ritualised and pointless it’s also the closest thing you’ll ever see to a television voodoo ceremony.
It was a riot of running-order sorcery, in fact, which was all designed to make you vote for Saara Aalto.
To the point that, after the homecoming film, I actually heard Simon Cowell say out loud: “I want to go to Finland.”
Not Bromley. Finland.
Words that were almost bound to slap him in the face, come the finale.
Before that happy moment, though, The X Factor reminded us it is still capable of producing some outstanding live television.
Particular highlights for me were: Nicole thanking Matt Terry for “exposing everything.”
Matt nearly choking on the purple confetti during the Prince tribute.
And host Dermot O’Leary accidentally blowing the lid on 5 After Midnight’s voting figures.
“That was your last ever performance on The X Factor... so far, so far.”
I also laughed pretty hard at the sight of dear old Louis Walsh jiving around to a Beyonce song in his Great Soprendo jacket, which would be your “go to” moment if you ever had to sum up ITV in just one clip.
Because that’s the thing about The X Factor.
Somewhere, underneath all the dreadful lies, miming and manipulation, there is still an entertaining television show capable of producing real emotion.
The overriding ones I felt during this weekend, though, were boredom and pity.
Pity, obviously, for Nicole, the contestants and Louis Walsh, who didn’t deserve the dreadful joke played on him by the wardrobe department.
But pity also for host Dermot, who was lumbered with a dreadful script and two finalists without any sense of humour or spontaneity.
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There are, however, limits to my compassion.
One of them is Sharon Osbourne, who really should’ve got off her over-entitled a*** and made the trip to Helsinki.
Another is Simon Cowell, who must by now realise the show’s over.
He’s tried to go young and serious. That didn’t work.
So he went back to basics, tried to have a bit of fun with Honey G and that didn’t work either.
The only thing he hasn’t tried, in fact, is a bit of honesty.
You know, a show which was free from product-placement, Boot Camp carve-ups, backing tapes at the live shows and an obliging jukebox that always landed in exactly the right place?
Instead he has an audience that no longer believes anything it sees or hears.
So if Simon almost orders them to vote for Saara Aalto, you end up with Matt Terry, who really should thank Nicole Scherzinger for fixing him with that slightly terrifying, Sunday night, closing-time stare.
“You were the reason I was meant to come back to The X Factor. You, you, you...”
You got the number of Andrew Lloyd Webber? Poor girl could use a break.
MARIAH’S A REAL CAREY-ON
IF you need an eight-part television series to prove you’re normal, then Jeremy Hunt might as well tattoo a health and safety notice across your forehead in Times Roman bold: “Warning – may contain nuts.”
Witness, Mariah’s World. A fairly comprehensive stitch-up job from the E! network which began on Sunday night with the singer attempting to dispel a few of the diva myths, dump her fiancé and promote a new tour.
James Packer’s now been dispatched and European bums are on seats – but Mariah Carey didn’t just fail to bury the old myths, she exhumed a mass grave of new ones.
I’d no idea, for instance, that she spends roughly 75 per cent of her life sprawled unprovocatively on a chaise longue, staring up the world’s nostrils from groin height.
The other 25 per cent of the time Mariah’s generally being spirited around the world by a long-suffering staff.
Four seem to be tasked with the job of helping madam into her shoes, nightmare manager Stella’s on hand to issue all the b******ings and there’s a punchbag called Molly who must ensure the Apple TV is switched on all night: “So Miss MC can sleep.”
The ones I feel really sorry for, though, are the dancers, who’ve just been ordered to carry her onstage at Glasgow’s Hydro arena.
A job for the city’s Finnieston crane, if ever I saw one.
But, instead, it’s been dumped on six nervous blokes who’ve been given an instruction.
“You will need to put on deodorant,” as well as a weightlifter’s belt and a tube of Preparation H ointment, by the time Miss MC’s landed.
See how many end up in traction, Sunday, 9pm, the E! channel.
Pass me the Boe and arrow
WELL, you can’t say you weren’t warned about ITV’s Friday night “music spectacular”, Ball & Boe.
It was this very space, last week in fact, where I flagged it up as a “Ball & Ache”.
One of those horrendous, buddy-buddy specials where everything was a cue for a song and it all came with a disclaimer which sounded more like a threat: “One night only.”
‘Cos you know, just know, Michael Ball and Alfie Boe would be back if we gave them an ounce of encouragement.
Mind you, it’s hard to see what more damage could be done after they took a stun gun to musicals, easy listening, pop, knockabout comedy, song and dance and opera, which Michael claims to love because “You know what they say about opera, don’t you . . .?”
Yeah, it’s not over ’til the fat **** sings.
Otherwise enjoyable.
GREAT TV LIES AND DELUSIONS OF THE MONTH
Mariah’s World, Stella Bulochnikov: “The most low-maintenance person in the whole f***ing world is Mariah Carey.”
I’m A Celebrity, Ant: “What was so lovely was that you got on. It was such a lovely watch this year.”
And Loose Women, Andrea McLean: “You thought Victoria Beckham was the only one with a singing voice in her family.”
At which point, even the bloke signing for the deaf must have been shoving his fingers in his ears and making strange gargling noises.
— YOU’VE made it this far into the column, so you’ll be aware there are many of us who toil under the description “television critic”. There was just one man who elevated it to an art form.
He was AA Gill of The Sunday Times, who died at the weekend.
It’s a name, I’m aware, some of you may not know.
But he undoubtedly influenced the television you all watched and always for the better, whether it was celebrating the first series of I’m A Celebrity, when it had been dismissed by almost everyone else, or hitting bad shows so hard that, like the “huggably appalling” Morgan & Platell, they never got up again.
It was one of the great privileges of this “job”, therefore, to discover that in person he was the very equal of his funny, elegant, mischievous, and compassionate writing.
The loss to newspapers and the television industry is huge.
The loss to his family is simply immeasurable. His words, though, will continue to be echoed by all of us who loved the brilliant and unforgettable Adrian Gill.
GREAT SPORTING INSIGHTS.
Gary Lineker: “Dortmund, Bayern and Real Madrid are the big two.”
Jeff Stelling: “Let’s show you some goals, starting at Cardiff where there were no goals.”
Stuart Pearce: “Costa has got absolutely everything. The only thing he lacks is the ability to go past someone.”
Paul Merson: “Pickford’s brilliant because most keepers in a struggling team will make 30 saves, but he doesn’t.”
(Compiled by Graham Wray).
— RANDOM TV irritations: BBC1 imagining there is a “Best Of The Tracey Ullman Show” to be screened on Christmas Day.
Timothy Evans’ occasionally Welsh accent on Rillington Place.
Useless Courtney stumbling and mumbling his way through another Apprentice pitch.
Privately educated Oxbridge graduate Mel Giedroyc having a go at judges for being privately educated Oxbridge graduates on Have I Got News For You.
And ITV party-liner Phillip Schofield declaring: “What we all needed as a country was fun. We didn’t want battles and fights on I’m A Celebrity this time round.”
Unless, of course, I missed the meeting where This Morning’s host was declared Spokesman for Britain.
— GOOD Morning Britain, burka-banning MP Philip Hollobone: “How many viewers do you think you’d have, Piers, if you appeared in a full-face balaclava?”
More.
TV GOLD
Gino D’Acampo losing his Italian rag with First Dates’ Fred Sirieix, on the raucous Celebrity Juice Christmas Special.
Martin Compston and the cast of ITV’s In Plain Sight.
MTV Asks guest Charlotte Crosby temporarily silencing everyone with her dream dinner party guests: “Pamela Anderson, Hulk Hogan, Jesus.”
And Planet Earth II’s cameraman, Gordon Buchanan. A joyful, west of Scotland reaction, to a surprising, middle-of-the-night arrival in noisy Mumbai.
“A leopard! Ya dancer.”
Beautiful television.
— QUIZ show imbecile of the week? Think Tank, Bill Turnbull: “The letter L on a car registration number plate means it comes from which European country?”
Peter: “London.”
— GOOD Morning Britain, the ever-obliging Piers Morgan: “What part of this face says ‘oily, unemployed creep’?” The mouth, eyes, nose, ears, forehead, chins...
— FILTH Corner, Eurosport, snowboarding, Ian Findlay: “Cheryl Maas, great to see her big backside 540 opening up on the first run. Got a grab in as well.” Well, if it’s OK for Donald Trump...
Lookalikes
THIS week’s £69 winner is a black-crested macaque and heir to the throne, Prince William.
Sent in by Susan Wilson, via email.
Picture research: Amy Reading