While some might say this that season’s X-Factor has been about as bland and boring as watching a layer William Hague’s monotone voice being spread across David Cameron’s unsavoury personality, I for one felt the show has been like witnessing a van full of sequins crashing into the Antiques Roadshow. Of course I’m referring to the outrageously gay Rylan Clark and Christopher ‘phoney’ Maloney!
Rylan had the enchanting voice of a slutty fairy with tiny helium bags for lungs. His “singing” made you want to hit yourself in the ear with a hot curling iron. But Rylan put the gay back into geisha and the judges loved him for the Lithium-induced haze of entertainment he produced each and every week.
All except Gary of course, who had the unenviable task of mentoring Christopher Maloney. Unlike Rylan Christopher was about as entertaining as watching a crackhead going through withdrawal symptoms.
When Christopher, the singing baked bean, blew out musical notes through his walrus mouth, you could tell he was really into it, because his tiny eyes almost popped out of his face. Did Rylan’s eyeballs do that? I didn’t think so.
Seriously, whenever Christopher slithered onto the stage I removed all glass objects from the room and covered my dogs ears before he caused my b-hole to frown it’s displeasure at what I can only describe as Christopher’s trailer park crooning. Every boring mess of a performance was like the worst episode of the Black and White Mintrel Show from back in the 70″s.
Yes Christopher you’re right, this is the golden age of BAD PRESS but now that the country’s done the decent thing you can shuffle your sad-ass back to Liverpool and quiver and shake into Grandma’s apron.