....... I'm not. Have you seen the internet lately? More blogs about baking than you could shake a jam tart at. They all contain cutesy, whimsical pictures of teapots, and seem to be based entirely around the current trend for overpriced cupcakes that are seemingly impossible to eat.
I mean, look at that stupid thing. There is no way of eating that with dignity. And I speak as a woman who loves ribs; at least eating ribs is meant to be a savage, primal act in which you gnaw flesh off a set of bones, getting barbeque sauce smeared around your chops in the process, and causing passers-by to think either "How uncouth" or "GOD I wish I had a plate of ribs right now".
But cupcakes? They're dainty and pretty and ladylike, as far as snacks go. As such, you should consume them in a befitting manner. But what do you do? You take a bite, and realise that this act is impossible without simultaneously forcing frosting up your nose. So you remove your sticky face from the pile of edible tweeness, pink gunk oozing out of both nostrils, and attempt to clean yourself up without literally picking bits of cake out of your sinuses. And that's when the owner of the expensive bakery hurls her Cath Kidston apron to the ground, declaring that aesthetically pleasing baked goods have been ruined for her forever. And surrounding iPricks shake their heads in a mixture of pity and disgust, take a picture of you, and post it on Tumblr, where people will look at your sugary conundrum, repost, then go back to making less revolting images look old via the magic of some app.
Well, that, or you can lick the frosting off first, but there is no way of doing this in public without it looking sexual. If you're attractive, great. It'll look simultaneously arousing, hunger-inducing, and cloyingly cute. However, if, like me, you resemble a particularly rotund seal pup dressing up as Millie Tant from Viz for Halloween, it just looks like a threat from a terrifying sexual predator.
That, and I refuse to perform cakeylingus in public. I have some standards.
Digression about cake over, what I'm actually writing about is some of the visual diarrhea that's been broadcast over the last week or so. Television, basically. Or, as I like to call it, Ellievision. Puns on my own name make me feel important, like someone who has their own real TV column.
So let's start with:
The X Factor (Or: The Kelly Rowland Histrionics Hour)
Everyone's favourite wail-fest is back, complete with the following show staples:
An insanely dramatic opening
It makes about as much sense as hiring Brian Blessed to bellow his choice of winner in a church fete marrow-growing competition, while March of the Valkeries is played by an entire orchestra riding dragons. I mean, we all know it's a national popularity contest. It's basically Big Brother with karaoke. But incredibly, they stick with a man shouting over O Fortuna, while a montage of the judges posing in an intimidating manner plays. In the event of the apocalypse, the same shouty man will probably be hired by the government to bellow over the same music, while the four horsemen pose and proceed to judge humanity from behind an eerie, glowing desk.
Personally, I think it'd be nice if, just for one week, you had something friendlier, like Stephen Merchant cheerfully mumbling over something by Sigur Ros, but apparently, that might make the humanoid judges seem less intimidating to anyone watching at home. Which is odd, because...
Speculation about the judging panel
Even when they keep the same judges, the press "speculate on" (read: make up) the alleged tension, almost always between the two female judges. It's impossible for females to get on well, you see.
However, this year, three of the cybernetic overlords of song have been replaced. First off, Simon Cowell, aka The Human Bog Brush, has taken his bored tone and Napoleon complex, and headed off to judge the US version. He took Cheryl, her hair, and her CPU with him, but that didn't work out, something about her software clashing with NicoleBot2k's, so now Cheryl's presumably back in Uncanny Valley where she belongs. Danniiiiii has dropped dealing with wailing brats in favour of embracing motherhood and dealing with her own wailing brat. I like to think that, as soon as he can talk, she, the grandparents, and the kid's father will form their own panel, and judge on a weekly basis whether or not to put him up for adoption.
So, that just leaves Louis Walsh, much to the relief of the obligatory novelty acts, and anyone from anywhere in Ireland. However, this time, he's been joined by:
Gary Barlow, ladies and gents! Unfortunately, for a bloke who does happen to be a fairly decent songwriter, he's been saddled with the label of "Most boring man in pop" for a while (for those wondering about his female counterpart, it's X Factor alumni Leona Lewis, a woman who resembles the lead female camel in a Pixar movie about camels that can talk). He's getting around this by mimicking Cowell's equally boring speech patterns. He's the "nasty judge", you see, which basically amounts to him being the only one to object when likable, but ultimately shit acts audition.
Cheryl's upgrade is Tulisa Contostavlos, otherwise known as "the girl in N-Dubz" (she's essentially an urban Smurfette). Oddly, she's my favourite so far. Which makes no sense, because I hate N-Dubz with a passion (partly for the stupid name, partly for making me aware of the existence of cretinous turd-in-a-hat Dappy, but mostly because Orange keep texting me, offering me free N-Dubz tracks, despite me being neither a complete moron, nor twelve years old). Essentially, she's level-headed, able to give constructive criticism of the warbling poodles in front of her, and able to deal with it when bitter rejectees rip on her. I like Tulisa. Can we keep her?
Which leaves us with Danniiiiiiiiiiiiii's replacement, Kelly Rowland. You know, she was in Destiny's Child. No, not that one. And obviously not the one no-one can remember the name of either. The middle one. Can't remember any songs she's done on her own, but unlike Cheryl or Danniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii, I think she might actually be able to sing, which is a start.
Unfortunately, I'm in the minority in thinking that she's fist-gnawingly irritating. In what I think was the second show, there was a whole segment dedicated to how attractive contestants found her, meaning that time that could have been spent on laughing at tone-deaf freaks was spent rimming a woman who veers between being the embodiment of the TV Trope Sassy Black Woman and crying like a contestant on The Biggest Loser being told that they've lost a whole pound in a week.
Sob Stories/Forced Likability
Happens every year, without question. This year, it's a dream come true for Kelly and her iron tear ducts. For example, here's one in which the guy in question has a bipolar mother (I'd embed it, but it's not allowed, according to Youtube). He warbles his way through that annoying Kings Of Leon song pretty well, cue crying from Kelly.
Then there's Sami here, who looks Natalie Cassidy circa 2020, and tries to force in her own "Gawd, I'm SO dippy!" context for the song, complete with a demonstration of her gammy arm. Well, it worked for Stacey Solomon.
Perhaps most ridiculous of all is Jade's audition, in which the producers struggle to come up with a suitably heart-wrenching back story; being an OK singer is apparently not enough. So, they've managed to come up with the following:
1) Jade lives in Fife, and does not like where she lives. Cue her being edited to make it look as though she's writing off the entire place as "a dive", when she was clearly just talking about the specific area where she lives.
2) Jade has a Granny.
Yep, that's about it. And watch Kelly's reaction. Considering how many people the judges see in one day, you'd think she'd be used to mediocre Adele covers by people who have at least one grandparent alive by now, but apparently not.
Then there's human/cardigan hybrid Janet, a warbling woodland creature in knitwear who apparently puts Kelly in a trance with her dead-on soundalike performance of that Elton John song that was covered by Ellie Goulding. You know she's getting through to the main shows, because they've put so much effort into showing her looking pensive in her room, giving social recluses all over Britain a small ray of hope that makes them wonder if maybe they're just undiscovered geniuses.
The Novelty Acts
Surprisingly light on the ground this year. So far we've had Diva Fever with perfect eyebrows, a vomiting nutjob who talks like Elmer Fudd, and Iggy Pop's puppet counterpart from the insurance ads.
Overall, nothing special, which basically means that The X Factor is back in full swing. Here's to predictability!
An insanely dramatic opening
It makes about as much sense as hiring Brian Blessed to bellow his choice of winner in a church fete marrow-growing competition, while March of the Valkeries is played by an entire orchestra riding dragons. I mean, we all know it's a national popularity contest. It's basically Big Brother with karaoke. But incredibly, they stick with a man shouting over O Fortuna, while a montage of the judges posing in an intimidating manner plays. In the event of the apocalypse, the same shouty man will probably be hired by the government to bellow over the same music, while the four horsemen pose and proceed to judge humanity from behind an eerie, glowing desk.
Personally, I think it'd be nice if, just for one week, you had something friendlier, like Stephen Merchant cheerfully mumbling over something by Sigur Ros, but apparently, that might make the humanoid judges seem less intimidating to anyone watching at home. Which is odd, because...
Speculation about the judging panel
Even when they keep the same judges, the press "speculate on" (read: make up) the alleged tension, almost always between the two female judges. It's impossible for females to get on well, you see.
However, this year, three of the cybernetic overlords of song have been replaced. First off, Simon Cowell, aka The Human Bog Brush, has taken his bored tone and Napoleon complex, and headed off to judge the US version. He took Cheryl, her hair, and her CPU with him, but that didn't work out, something about her software clashing with NicoleBot2k's, so now Cheryl's presumably back in Uncanny Valley where she belongs. Danniiiiii has dropped dealing with wailing brats in favour of embracing motherhood and dealing with her own wailing brat. I like to think that, as soon as he can talk, she, the grandparents, and the kid's father will form their own panel, and judge on a weekly basis whether or not to put him up for adoption.
So, that just leaves Louis Walsh, much to the relief of the obligatory novelty acts, and anyone from anywhere in Ireland. However, this time, he's been joined by:
Gary Barlow, ladies and gents! Unfortunately, for a bloke who does happen to be a fairly decent songwriter, he's been saddled with the label of "Most boring man in pop" for a while (for those wondering about his female counterpart, it's X Factor alumni Leona Lewis, a woman who resembles the lead female camel in a Pixar movie about camels that can talk). He's getting around this by mimicking Cowell's equally boring speech patterns. He's the "nasty judge", you see, which basically amounts to him being the only one to object when likable, but ultimately shit acts audition.
Cheryl's upgrade is Tulisa Contostavlos, otherwise known as "the girl in N-Dubz" (she's essentially an urban Smurfette). Oddly, she's my favourite so far. Which makes no sense, because I hate N-Dubz with a passion (partly for the stupid name, partly for making me aware of the existence of cretinous turd-in-a-hat Dappy, but mostly because Orange keep texting me, offering me free N-Dubz tracks, despite me being neither a complete moron, nor twelve years old). Essentially, she's level-headed, able to give constructive criticism of the warbling poodles in front of her, and able to deal with it when bitter rejectees rip on her. I like Tulisa. Can we keep her?
Which leaves us with Danniiiiiiiiiiiiii's replacement, Kelly Rowland. You know, she was in Destiny's Child. No, not that one. And obviously not the one no-one can remember the name of either. The middle one. Can't remember any songs she's done on her own, but unlike Cheryl or Danniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii, I think she might actually be able to sing, which is a start.
Unfortunately, I'm in the minority in thinking that she's fist-gnawingly irritating. In what I think was the second show, there was a whole segment dedicated to how attractive contestants found her, meaning that time that could have been spent on laughing at tone-deaf freaks was spent rimming a woman who veers between being the embodiment of the TV Trope Sassy Black Woman and crying like a contestant on The Biggest Loser being told that they've lost a whole pound in a week.
Sob Stories/Forced Likability
Happens every year, without question. This year, it's a dream come true for Kelly and her iron tear ducts. For example, here's one in which the guy in question has a bipolar mother (I'd embed it, but it's not allowed, according to Youtube). He warbles his way through that annoying Kings Of Leon song pretty well, cue crying from Kelly.
Then there's Sami here, who looks Natalie Cassidy circa 2020, and tries to force in her own "Gawd, I'm SO dippy!" context for the song, complete with a demonstration of her gammy arm. Well, it worked for Stacey Solomon.
Perhaps most ridiculous of all is Jade's audition, in which the producers struggle to come up with a suitably heart-wrenching back story; being an OK singer is apparently not enough. So, they've managed to come up with the following:
1) Jade lives in Fife, and does not like where she lives. Cue her being edited to make it look as though she's writing off the entire place as "a dive", when she was clearly just talking about the specific area where she lives.
2) Jade has a Granny.
Yep, that's about it. And watch Kelly's reaction. Considering how many people the judges see in one day, you'd think she'd be used to mediocre Adele covers by people who have at least one grandparent alive by now, but apparently not.
Then there's human/cardigan hybrid Janet, a warbling woodland creature in knitwear who apparently puts Kelly in a trance with her dead-on soundalike performance of that Elton John song that was covered by Ellie Goulding. You know she's getting through to the main shows, because they've put so much effort into showing her looking pensive in her room, giving social recluses all over Britain a small ray of hope that makes them wonder if maybe they're just undiscovered geniuses.
The Novelty Acts
Surprisingly light on the ground this year. So far we've had Diva Fever with perfect eyebrows, a vomiting nutjob who talks like Elmer Fudd, and Iggy Pop's puppet counterpart from the insurance ads.
Overall, nothing special, which basically means that The X Factor is back in full swing. Here's to predictability!
To be fair have you been to Fife? She's pretty much describing EVERY area of it. When people say "It's grim up north." I imagine that they're referring to Fife or Mordor. There's little to distinguish the two.
ReplyDeleteI have to confess to having never been to Fife. Point being, the editing dropped her in it, because now the wall-eyed, web-footed residents are angry at this perceived slight on their turf.
ReplyDelete