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The X Factor 2008

How about congenital progressive laryngitis? Then you can skip any weeks you don't think you can do justice.
 
:cool:

We should all get involved.

Can someone back me up when I say I've got a life threatening disease?
You'll be exposed by the press.

Although, if you make it to the exotic hideaway stage, Simon will take you aside to ask if you're lying, and using his Human Nature-Detecting Superpower, instantly divine that you're telling the truth. ;)
 
I know what you mean but it's definitely better than some previous years. What about when rolly poly McManus won? Or that Steve bloke who was basically a dad doing quite good karaoke?

And the years when we had the fucking McDonald Brothers and Journey South inflicted on us. Can anyone remember if those two made the actual final - I seem to recall them coming pretty close to making the last three or four at least.
 
diane/diana sounded ridiculous. is it some kind of practical joke? how come the judges always miss the blindingly obvious? cross between kenneth williams and a robin red breast. looks like a crap peaches geldof

And her hair's really annoying - that's not a side parting, it's a combover! :mad:
 
See Aqua - look at this wholescale character assassination based on looks and bad singing - and it's OK! It's fine to be this horrible - en masse! THAT'S the beauty of X-factor....:D
 
Charlie Brooker

Eoghan Quigg. That's not a name, that's a Countdown Conundrum. It looks like what happens when you hastily type a URL with your fingers over the wrong keys. If they still allowed text voting, he'd have been out weeks ago.

Or maybe not. Because the moment Eoghan bounds on stage, he triggers a dormant maternal instinct in millions of grandmas up and down the nation, enough to overcome any spelling barrier. Last week an elderly neighbour aahhed herself to death halfway through his performance of Anytime You Need a Friend. Because Eoghan's got a baby face. And I mean that literally, as in someone's grafted a baby's face on to the front of his head. Tiny
little eyes and a ruby-red mouth. He's like a cross between the Test Card clown and a crayon portrait of Jamie Oliver.

Weird. Eerie. Like the spectral figure of an infant chimney sweep that suddenly appears in an upstairs window, gazing sadly at your back as you walk the grounds of a remote country mansion on a silent Christmas afternoon; alerted by an indefinable chill, you turn and, for the briefest moment, his wet, sorry eyes meet yours... and then he's gone.

That's Eoghan, the ghost of X Factor present. Even if he gets voted out, I'm frightened I'll still spot him intermittently in the dead of night, popping up on screen during old black-and-white films, pleading through the glass like a kitten in a microwave. Swear to God, if he's not gone by New Year's Eve I'm having my television exorcised by a priest.
 
eoghan quigg. That's not a name, that's a countdown conundrum. It looks like what happens when you hastily type a url with your fingers over the wrong keys. If they still allowed text voting, he'd have been out weeks ago.

Or maybe not. Because the moment eoghan bounds on stage, he triggers a dormant maternal instinct in millions of grandmas up and down the nation, enough to overcome any spelling barrier. Last week an elderly neighbour aahhed herself to death halfway through his performance of anytime you need a friend. Because eoghan's got a baby face. And i mean that literally, as in someone's grafted a baby's face on to the front of his head. Tiny
little eyes and a ruby-red mouth. He's like a cross between the test card clown and a crayon portrait of jamie oliver.

weird. Eerie. Like the spectral figure of an infant chimney sweep that suddenly appears in an upstairs window, gazing sadly at your back as you walk the grounds of a remote country mansion on a silent christmas afternoon; alerted by an indefinable chill, you turn and, for the briefest moment, his wet, sorry eyes meet yours... And then he's gone.

That's eoghan, the ghost of x factor present. Even if he gets voted out, i'm frightened i'll still spot him intermittently in the dead of night, popping up on screen during old black-and-white films, pleading through the glass like a kitten in a microwave. Swear to god, if he's not gone by new year's eve i'm having my television exorcised by a priest.

LOL :D :D :D z
 
Weird. Eerie. Like the spectral figure of an infant chimney sweep that suddenly appears in an upstairs window, gazing sadly at your back as you walk the grounds of a remote country mansion on a silent Christmas afternoon; alerted by an indefinable chill, you turn and, for the briefest moment, his wet, sorry eyes meet yours... and then he's gone.

That's Eoghan, the ghost of X Factor present. Even if he gets voted out, I'm frightened I'll still spot him intermittently in the dead of night, popping up on screen during old black-and-white films, pleading through the glass like a kitten in a microwave. Swear to God, if he's not gone by New Year's Eve I'm having my television exorcised by a priest.
:D

Good old charlie.

And Screen Wipe is back this week too.
 
My mum and stepmum are very disappointed that Daniel has gone. My mum has transferred her affection to Eoghan now, she thinks he is the next George Michael.
 
My mum and stepmum are very disappointed that Daniel has gone. My mum has transferred her affection to Eoghan now, she thinks he is the next George Michael.

Funnily enough, I commented that there's a touch of the George Michaels about him when he was performing on Sat night.

And a genuine 'lol' at Charlie Brooker's comment.
 
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