Jesus eff, what a flaccid attempt at entertainment this year’s auditions have been, AMIRITE? But thankfully this was the last helping, so from herein it’s over to boot camp where we can only pray that Louis Walsh has incorporated a Hunger Games-esque element of genuine physical danger to spice up the contestant cull.
Anyway, let’s power through this week’s shit heap which was almost saved by the loose theme of breaking up groups and shitting on friendships.
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Daisy Chains
In America, teenage friendships are stratified by coolness: the nerds sit with other nerds, the anorexic blondes with over-straightened hair and Von Dutch velvet hot pants have the comfort of one another. But in Britain a combination of VK-fueled street violence and deep-seated psychological insecurity requires hot popular girls to hang out with needy, obedient chubbier friends who can soothe their dwindling self-esteem and flatten anyone who calls them a sket.
Enter Daisy Chains, three “best friends” from Birmingham that love each other so much they decided to audition together. (IDK, perhaps one of the henchwoman was hoping to Jennifer Hudson Dreamgirls the pretty one into obscurity). Alas, it turns out Hannah who won the lottery of life twice over and is blessed with strongest voice as well as cheekbones. The judges only want her. Suddenly friendship is out the window, and her two bezzies turn on her within a matter of seconds – making her choose between a shot at middling fame and ever hanging out with them again.
Hannah Shears
So Hannah goes it alone, like a rat king chewing her way through her own offspring to dominate the sewer, and performs Demi Lovato’s “Skyscraper” at the arena. Only it turns out that without her cronut cronies making her sound good, her tuning is a bit off and she enunciates like a cleft Tweenie. They put her through anyway because the standards are so low this year they’d give these two four yeses because of their cheeky personality.
SeeSee with these other two pricks known as group ‘Dynamix’
Let me tell you, if I could cough out a decent power ballad and had a rugrat at home to keep furnished with mini Air Maxs there would be ZERO hesitation ditching any dead weight on X Factor, especially if said dead weight were a couple of trainee stockbroker looking motherfuckers.
But y’know what really riled me? SeeSee, having fireman carried these two to safety throughout the ENTIRE AUDITION, was offered the opportunity to sail through as a solo artist…and yet this pair of Topman clad dick stains stood there in total silence. Like, if this were Vietnam 1971 and these two nuccas were bleeding out with all their limbs blown off they’d still be like “nah, SeeSee, bit selfish of you to take that chopper to safety even though we’re practically fucking dead, isn’t it?”
Duplex
To the untrained eye the exhaustingly hyperactive duo Duplex (LMAO at that name for starters) came across like they’d been taking turns to blow amphetamines up each other’s holes with a bic pen for the best part of a week. In actual fact they are just every girl from the home counties with no talent but a sincere desire to appear in the sidebar of the Daily Mail. IDK why, must be the sugar content of Juicy Tubes lipgloss. Anyway, the audition started off as terribly as you’d expect but then OMG why couldn’t the earth swallow me whole, they started rapping. I’m warning you, please only watch their audition if you’re willing try using mace on yourself as one of those Men in Black memory eraser thingies.
Paul Akistar
Paul’s sob story is that he feels “invisible” which seems a bit far-fetched. His audition isn’t bad, if you like overwraught Xtina covers performed the vocal equivalent of a out-of-comission Soviet barge making it’s final voyage to the scrapheap, but how can you take anyone seriously when they’re wearing half an ASOS clearance sale and a shirt that looks like it’s been left in the washing machine too long and has started to rot. Look how far Dermot stays away from him when he’s hugging his family, he clearly smells like a whore’s gusset.
Justin Peng
I’m going to come right out and say it, nobody thought adorable asian contestant Justin Peng would have the voice of a LaGuardia trained angel, because we’re all huge racists that wanted him to hyperventilate his way through a “Kay-ree Pelly” song mispronouncing all his Rs. Well fuck you for not taking into acount the AZN fixation with both karaoke and female pop divas, I mean, before the umbilical cord is even cut you’re popped in front of a lyric video of “My Heart Will Go On” and expected to nail the adlibs. Get with the times.
To be fair the judges were expecting him to humiliate himself too. Even Nicole was temporarily jolted out of her k hole:
JUSTIN PENG TO WIN! #GoAsia (╯°□°）╯
Follow Jo and Sam on Twitter @FUERTESKNIGHT & @samwolfson
X Fucktor: Auditions Week Three
It’s boyband week on X Factor! So why do I still feel like walking into traffic?
This week, X Factor trotted out a selection of previous year rejects…and we were NOT happy.
Oh how we’ve missed Nicole’s benzo slurring and carefully placed sob stories.
