They Think It's Eoghan, It Isn't Now...

We had a comedy sweepstake last night. Myself and the two youngest girls picked an X Factor contestant at random. Then we had to root for our chosen star. If our wannabe should triumph, one of us in turn would win a plastic trophy that I'd found in the attic. Plus some bonus Quality Streets. I had picked out JLS, which made me a kind of de facto Louis Walsh. Betsy was Alexandra while Rosie was working Eoghan Quigg with gusto. We hollered, we threw popcorn at the screen and I said things about the boy from Dungiven that I woudn't repeat in public.

We were so caught up in the absurd drama of it all that we stayed on the channel, enduring that specious Girls Aloud programme. I think we all knew the game was up for X Factor when Beyonce had declared an interest, and the fate of JLS was not a tremendous surprise. Once again, it was a victory for overwraught warbling, vibrato turned to the max and gushing sentiment.

And the public gets what the public wants...

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