Now I've realised the error of making a blog post about fucking mints, I thought I'd do my annual 'I hate Simon Cowell' post. I hate Britain's Got Talent, right? You knew that already didn't you? I've only had the misfortune to see this year a bloke who could blow up a hot water bottle and pull a Sooty van with his ears. In my book he's the winner, you don't need to see anyone else. Although as my mother pointed out "Do you think the Queen wants to watch that?" Well why not, I'd pay money to see that.
The only other acts I've seen this year, in a moment of extreme weakness, on Saturday night, there was a bloke making out as though he could recreate the sound of a saxophone using just his vocal cords, he couldn't; some old ladies knitting. Ladies, having a hobby doesn't necessarily make you all that talented; some bloke from Wales singing a song I've never heard of, and being remarkably mediocre. Well the crowd loved him, didn't they? Turns out, he's only got a back story. What a surprise! Not.
In this newspaper article he claims he "doesn't want to be this year's sob story". Well stop banging on about your dead missus then. Now I'm not that hard-hearted that I don't have any sympathy with a bloke who lost his wife at a young age, but this whole thing stinks of Simon Cowell getting in on the story and telling the press, while, no doubt, pound sign were revolving furiously in his eyes.
And why does anyone over the age of sixty who appears on that show merit a huge round of a-whoopin' and a-hollerin'? And what do Amanda Holden and that other git face Piers Morgan know about talent? Bugger bloody all, that's what.
Said it before, and I'll say it again, Cowell needs stopping.
By the way, I'm putting myself up for this vacant position. McGiffin and Nolan better be afraid, very afraid.
1 comment:
I don't mind Cowell, but Piers Morgan - now he really *is* a twat.
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