Get Out, And Stay Out...

Look at you, Mr Moody. What's wrong? Woke up on the wrong side of the bed? Having a bad hair day, are we? You went to bed with that bouffant stuck on your head. In truth, I just wanted to test the impact of conflicted post title. Hope that didn't make anyone moody or pile their hair up high on their head and hang down by the sides. [Bouffant]


No two-year-old racing today. So I'm musing.  



I've been watching X Factor. Shenanigans.That's what comes to mind. It's hardly surprising when ratings are key and your opposition is Strictly Come Dancing. Scary stuff. I can't say I have been watching the latter. Two left feet. In fact, no dancing shoes. Certainly none of that crazy tap dance loved by Lionel Blair. So it doesn't figure on my spectrum. However, I have been watching Syco Productions. Is that an abbreviation of Sycophant [definition: a self-seeking, servile flatterer; fawning parasite]. Mr Cowell searching for talent. Brings all manner of things to mind. Obviously I'm talking about music. Making music. That's this year's X Factor contestants. Words, they are open to so much interpretation. Very much like rules. I will have to be more careful because I might find that I am on stage next week singing Rocky Mountain High. This year...well. There has been more twists and turns than Julian Clary caught in a typhoon. 


Amelia Lily. Some mysterious being is voting for her. If I was a conspiracy theorist I would be having a field day with her. I have heard her hair turned pink after eating a kilo of candy floss a day! But besides that, I can't help but think she will go on to win this year's competition. Why? Because I have never seen so much manipulation of a show. Actions speak louder than words and there is someone out there who has decided to move mountains to get her back in the show. You sycophant. You know who you are. Those poor people who laid 999/1 for her to win. Well, she was voted out of the competition. Right? I watched the ''judges vote''. She walked off stage in tears. But...wait a minute. ''I get the feeling she could win''. Well, then, bring her back. It's only fair because she doesn't go out boozing every night of the week. Plus, she can sing. And her hair is a winner! Meanwhile those layers on the betting exchanges can go spin. Just like Johnny singing Dead Or Alive, but with much thinner lips...and a softer camp side. Putty in the hand, hey. Why not form their poor souls into the shape of voodoo dolls and conclude the torture by sticking a pin in each eye. It can go with the knitting needle which sticks in their wallet like a harpoon. It all adds to the interest for us rubberneckers. I've already drawn a white chalk mark round the wallet on the ground. It's fascinating stuff. If I was a ufologist I would swear I had seen not only a cigar-shaped object hovering over the X Factor set but it's held in the hand of Harpo Marx. [If you hear a harp in the background music, it's him.]


This year has been of comedic excellence in how to make a pigs ear out of a silk purse. The American show is much better. But what the hell is that that voice-tuning thing all about and where does that music come from when the world and his wife know they are singing accapella next to that carefully positioned swimming pool. 


Back to the UK.


Amelia Lily gets my vote for all the wrong reasons. Just loving the conspiracy theories. You know those crop circles, tin foil found at Roswell and the alien autopsy. I hold my hands up. Scalpel in hand. It was me. 


I had to smile about Misha B. I just thank the lord her surname didn't start with a G. That's why I was smiling when they said last week 'went with a bang'. 




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