So! We all just endured the first live show of the eleventh (ELEVENTH! What a time to be alive) series of the X Factor. It is genuinely hard to write this roundup because I am pregnant and tired, and the programme went on for roughly several thousand years. But I will do my best.
X Factor announced itself with the usual bombast:
Then the judges marched on and, as with every season of the X Factor, I spent a lot of time wondering exactly which combination of colour blindness and use of psychotropic drugs influenced their stylists’ choices.
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Because Simon Cowell basically came as Butthead from Beavis and Butthead; Mel B was ACTUALLY DRESSED AS OLIVE OYLE FROM POPEYE, and Cheryl Cole seemed to have spray-painted her eyes black, a la Daryl Hannah in Blade Runner. Louis Walsh, however, came dressed as Louis Walsh. That is to say, a baby in a Louis Walsh costume and wig.
And then? Well, a bunch of people sang, the judges squabbled quite a lot, Cheryl implied that Louis was past it by just repeating the word “Shazam” at him sort of bitchily, and Mel B went insane at one point and started shouting “booya”.
I’ve just made X Factor sound 1,000 times more interesting than it really is. Anyway, here are the highs and lows.
** THE BEST**
Lauren Platt, who turned 17 in the VT then promptly appeared onstage dressed as a preteen, which was a bit weird. THEN she started singing a morose version of Get Lucky, but weirdly it WORKED, thanks to her solid voice and stage presence. She is my current favourite, which means she’ll probably get booted off tomorrow. I hate life.
Chloe Jasmine scrubbed up well as a 1930s lounge singer – imagine Jayne Mansfield dressed as Marilyn Monroe – and belted out a decent jazzy Toxic until she got too into it and started punching the air and shouting 'ooh!.'
Andrea Faustini – you haven’t lived until you’ve heard a bearded Italian man roar 'WHAT ABOUT ELEPHANTS?' to a standing ovation at Wembley Stadium. Magnificent.
THE WORST
Blond Electric, dressed as Poundland Gagas, stomping around a psychadelic Tron nightmare, while shouting Kids In America. No, thank you.
THE ¯_(ツ)_/¯
Stephanie Nala, ex of Britain’s Got Talent reggaeish band The Luminites, seems to be a lot of people’s favourites, but doesn’t really do anything for me. I found her version of ‘Everything I Own’ a little bit reedy and forgettable. Also I don’t buy it when dancers just stand there holding guitars THEY DON’T EVEN PLAY.
Also, most of the boys and all the bands. I suspect this is because a) I am old and b) ALL THE BOYS HAD FAUXHAWKS AND I COULDN’T TELL THEM APART.
THE MILDLY SURPRISING
Stevi Ritchie, the world’s chirpiest man – the sort of person who will refer to you as 'my lady' and call barmen 'my good man' – gyrating on a plinth to La Vida Loca. It’s like one of those unsettling dreams where you find yourself momentarily attracted to an elderly teacher, or something.
FAVOURITE LOUISISM
He called Andrea Faustini an 'eyetalian.' Never change, Louis Walsh.
WHO WILL GO TOMORROW?
One of the boybands, I think, and Stevi Ritchie. Look, either he’ll go or he’ll WIN
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This article originally appeared on The Debrief.