| Get McLuckie
BBC One
As The Voice returns for its third series you’re entitled to ask how its bulimic premise survived this long. It always seems destined to be the Fame Academy of its age – a dreary spartan version of big hitters like X Facturd and Plop Idol. Will.i.am.acunt and Tom Jones are joined by new judges Kylie Minogue and Ricky Wilson from Kaiser Chiefs. To kick off the show Tom and Pricky duet on the first verse of I Predict a Riot then Pielie and Will.i.am.insufferable duet on Can’t Get You Out Of My Head – it ends up in a weird mash up with all four of them blarting out the two songs like bairns. If Kaiser Chiefs ever had any credibility this rogers it out of existence.
Our first cuntestant is Lee Glasson who hails from Herts but lives in Cov. At 31, selling insurance and sporting some edgy tattoos Lee looks like a bit of a vag. Nonetheless his rendition of Can’t Get You Out Of My Head has something about it. A touch of Roy Orbison perhaps with a twist of melodrama – like Marc Almond covering Days of Pearly Spencer. All but Will.i.am.lonely turn around. He goes with a delighted Pielie who finds a great spot in her chair to surreptitiously masturbate on when the show becomes unbearably dull (this is often).
We happened upon a single young tinker from north of the border – 17-year-old music student Anna McLuckie. She plays the harp and is hereafter known as Blowanna Newson. It’s a bold song choice: Daft Punk’s Get Lucky on vocals and harp. Her voice is somewhat similar to Diana “the claw” Vickers http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RMyhHEcY3nM every holer who lit up X-Factor 2008 (for employees of the BBC in the 1970s at any rate). Her clever interpretation wows the crowd and it’s between Will and Ricky for her hand in marriage. Will says he’ll take her out of her comfort zone, fight for her – there’s no need. She was his the moment she didn’t realise who the other guy was.
Tara Lewis, 44, Wales wherever. Big tub of shit. Welsh Dragon tattoo on arm – plenty of room there for it, spanning the bingo wings. In her spare time (of which she has plenty) she’s an impersonator of Nessa from Gavin and Stacey. That’s a thing apparently. She bangs out You Make My Dreams Come True and her voice, like everything else about her, is dull.
Tom Jones nearly goes for it but doesn’t thinking “I bet she’s a fatty”. When he turns around and sees her his face silently says “thank fuck for that”. There follows a lot of Gavin and Stacey related Welsh flirting between the two. “Let’s do it” she says “I’ll give you the best night of your life!” Tom Jones, fact fans, has dated a Supreme and a Miss World.”Wow!” He responds smiling, as his internal monologue says “of all the gut call decisions you’ve made in your life, boyo, the one not to turn around when this passively half decent cabaret warbler filled the room is possibly your greatest yet. Good for you Tommo. This is why you live in a goldplated mansion in Los Angeles and the rest of your contemporaries are coke blitzed corpses or irrelevant has beens”
After an insanely awkward hug he tells the other judges “great sense of humour” which is what men have been saying about fat girls they are trying like fuck to avoid for generations. Good on Tom for keeping up that tradition.
He’s quickly back in the mix as well when 54-year-old Sally Barker from Leicester rolls up. Many years ago she supported Dylan and Robert Plant but then she had kids who crushed her ambition and ruined her life. Then her husband died of cancer and that put the dampeners on everything. And yet the dream never died.
When it comes her song is Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood – like her an oldie but a goodie. And let’s not front, this broad’s good – better than everyone else we see in fact. Tom turns around and nabs her uncontested as there’s an unwritten agreement” put the old tubs of shit with Tom”. You’re old Sally – you’ve had your life. You’re going in the old folks’ home. Tom seems genuinely moved for a man who has long since lost all control of his facial muscles, a man for whom bowel control and sexual function are but distant memories.
So yeah, The Voice is back and I’m still not really feeling it. Do we really want to go through this trauma to find the new Andrea Begley (debut single peaking at number 30) or Leanne Mitchell (dropped from record label, now singing in leisure centres)? You tell me. ¹
The verdict: ooooo
Marks out of 10: 6
¹ Suck a dick a day until you die, PedEgg scrapings. You are not capable of “telling” Aerial Telly anything.