Britain’s Got Talent Final
Is there a more worthless turd actively operating than Amanda Holden? She grates more than Dannii Minogue who is the Fellini of nause. Piers Morgan is a turd too, Helen Keller can see that, but he did have enough about him to edit a national newspaper at 39 even if he did make a bunch of stuff up, publish phoney photos of soldiers pissing on PoWs, issue begrudging non-apologies, get shitcanned, then spend years repeating the same documentary about how fame is just an end in itself these days and isn’t that awful? Holden looks good in her underwear in a vapid thousand yard porn stare kind of way and looked handsome and demure on the Britain’s Got Talent Final show but it really isn’t good enough. I know there has got to be a voice of the “people” att-a-boy judge but she knows nothing about anything. Her cluelessness cannot be fathomed. It is as dark and noxious as her insincerity.
“Holden looks good in her underwear in a vapid thousand yard porn stare kind of way but it really isn’t good enough. Her cluelessness cannot be fathomed. It is as dark and noxious as her insincerity.”
Aye, but it’s not about her is it? The public only had eyes for one woman. Susan Boyle wasn’t very good on the night but she won in all but the factual sense of the word. She won by losing and ending up in the Priory which as well as being a powerful symbol of success gone awry is a high-end medical facility for tailspinning celebrity.
You’ve arrived, kid, and you’re getting the best care available. Such are the trappings of fame as Piers Morgan no doubt observed during one of his 19 consecutive identikit documentaries on the subject. Boyle can now record an Elaine Page covers album and retire to the countryside away from predatory press, over-zealous well-wishers and skanky defoliation cream.
“The three red buzzers move was a stroke of genius – one of those moments that, like the first flash of Riverdance gusset, reminded us all of the joy of dance.”
Boyle left the vulgar task of actual “winning” to Diversity – a group of young dancing Herberts from Essex and, don’t front, their routine was spectacular. Frenetic, precise and exuberant they thrilled and engaged the audience. The three red buzzers move was a stroke of genius – one of those moments that, like the first flash of Riverdance gusset, reminded us all of the joy of dance.
Something Stavros Flatley, the likeable father and son fat bastard combo, could make no claim to. They gracelessly bounced around the stage for a bit before disappearing into the darklands from whence they came. I didn’t really want them in the final in the first place but this is a popularity contest and this is the United Kingdom and their success was down to the uniquely British belief that being plucky, charming and shite mitigates all wrongdoing – a belief that is sometimes amusing but mainly misguided.
“Stavros Flatley’s success was down to the uniquely British belief that being plucky, charming and shite mitigates all wrongdoing – a belief that is sometimes amusing but mainly misguided.”
But these shows just keep coming and keep succeeding. The idea that you might find a million-dollar baby in a five-and-dime store still captures the imagination. Susan Boyle was one such baby – the nation’s wayward hairy angel who went viral then went nuts and now rubs shoulders with Tom Chaplin from Keane in the Priory canteen as he tries to score some port from the clinic dealer. While they still turn up 10 carat diamonds like her, the TV talent show will stay in ruddy health.
The best thing about it: The right people won.
The worst thing about it: Amanda Holden – platitude made flesh.
The verdict on Britain’s Got Talent Final: The verdict is final.
Marks out of 10: 7
Imagined: 3rd June 2009