Factors

X Factor’s taking a commercial break right now. Matt Cardle’s just done whatever he does and made Dannii Minogue cry, or leak or something. Her ducts are exploding.

It’s compulsive viewing though. There are four fireworks displays fully viewable from the 14th floor of this tower block. I know this as I live there. I’m here at this moment in fact.

And while I could indulge in such free, if fleeting entertainment, taking joy in the novelty of such firey delights in the relative comfort of this living room, complete with cardboard furniture and aromas of a party now two weeks’ old, I choose not to.

For I prefer the extravagant, ridiculousness of this singing show, now so subversively enjoyed, my Twitter stream becomes a highlight of the week.

And it’s mainly because of Wagner. Seriously, just watch him. He’s a Brazilian marv! A cross between Blanka, Andy Kaufman and a lion. And more terrifying than all three. Together. Coming at you with their special attacks.

He’s better than any rocket or banger.

I now want Wagner’s face to be materialised in the decaying sparks visible in the black night sky. It won’t happen. Someone photoshop it!

But yes, Wagner makes it all worthwhile. Though there is one act I take genuine delight in, in a way that they are talented and exciting in a purely musical sense.

I’m speaking about Cher of course (not that one). For she’s 17 and ‘of the moment’ and all so shiney in the eyes of execs, but she can sing and she’s interesting and she clearly knows that Dannii Minogue is a moron, which is wonderful. I’ve only recently come across her audition footage too (after missing out on all the introductory stages) where you can see a spark devoid from the non-faces of Matt Cardle, that Rebecca person and the rest of the tedious ones I forget so easily. Treyk. Is that one?

I didn’t mean to write about X Factor. I was going to discuss important things like the National Institute for Health and Clinical Excellence having its powers for deciding what drugs are available on the NHS taken away by a moronic coalition government and other things about work and life and comedy and music.

I’ve lived here for over a month. I said I’d read so much more and write so much more when I was in a place where I was comfortable and happy, but it’s struggling to come out so far. I blame having the internet back in my life after a few months absence. There’s been a lot to catch up on – mainly videos of cats flushing toilets, and googling Mae Whitman. Definitely not cut out for NaNoWriMo anyhow. I’ll work out something.

Also, Battersea Park is a bloody nice place to go too on a weekend when I should be advancing my mental capacities. The swimbling pool distracts too.

Anyway, I was meant to complain about a couple of advertisements too. Mainly ones that involve beloved figures selling their dignity. I’ll save that for tomorrow though. Be excited!

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