Top of the Pops

Welcome to the lowlight of your Christmas, my TOTP blog. And I've got James here with me for once to add his own brand of bile. It's really hard to write a blog on a phone so take heed and pity me, for suffering in more ways than one.
I have never heard this Take That song before, but we both agree the brand is not working as a three. Everyone wants a (Jason) Orange in their stocking. Why not get a new member? James Corden seemed up for it on the Gogglebox repeats - sorry, highlights - last night. James says he feels something about the way Gary sings feels patronising. If you're feeling patronised by Gary Barlow in a Christmas jumper, you're probably not at your mental best.
Who the fuck are Gorgon City? Isn't that a brand of cheese? Oh no, that's gorgonzola and Cathedral City. Is this dubstep? James; 'There's a rent a raver down the front.' James is convinced they film this TOTP in July and then just CGI Ben Haenow in at the end.
James: 'When's Florence on?' I think she's reanimating in her oxygen chamber, I've not seen her for at least a year.
Up next, Schmuck. Spelt Sigma. Isn't that some X Factor reject? Oh it's like drum and bass or something. They've half got the washing machine but not quite. Come back Ed Sheeran, all is forgiven. Not really, fuck off.
I'm not mentioning Fearne and Reggie this year as they're beneath contempt.
Next up is The Vamps, a 'youtube sensation'; like Frankie Grande but less likeable. James says they look like they might be playing in a bar in the background in The Knick. If that's not funny, direct your complaints to him as I don't watch it. Jingle Bells is not a valid Christmas cover version. This is endless. There's only one fucking verse to Jingle Bells, you cunts!
Fearne likes Foo Fighters, or her autocue says she does. Well, someone has to. I have never heard any of these songs that have been out this year, thank fuck. Yet still I want to punch Sam Smith in the chops.
James: 'Fresh from making computers, it's Tom O'Dell.' Who's this miserable sod? Bring back the garage. Bring back Pharrell. James says, 'Bring back Jingle Bells.' This is a song for those who started drinking port too early on Christmas and are crying already.
McBusted. My mum's favourite. I had to buy her their CD for Christmas. I'm not even joking. Do you know how that's going to screw up my recommendations on Amazon? Disgusting. This is anti-awesome. We think might have just heard the lyrics 'More range than Brian May.' Still I suppose it's cheaper to smash up a 'air guitar' than a real one not one of the pricks can play anyway. I hope the missing one with the eyebrows is having a lie in.
Next in the aural torture chamber is Coldplay. Who'd have thought the man who wrote the beautiful The Scientist could follow that with literally hundreds of duff, samey s-hits that make you want to consciously uncouple with your own eardrums. Just stop. Stop it now, just like the sex offenders charity. Also, stop wasting paper. That confetti is murders to clear up.
One thing I will say in Fearne and Reggie's defence, they're not incessantly telling me what's coming up next for once. Probably because everyone's turned off in previous years when they did.
Next up is Rixston. Me and James simultaneously: 'who?' James: 'These people all look privately educated. How do people know the words to this song? They must play it to them in the queue.' The singer looks like Shane Ritchie.
Next up, Jeff Probst from Survivor. Oh no, it's Mr Probz. This is the worst yet. I prefer Mr Oizo.This is a new low, even worse than that twit on the piano.
The next person 'had people literally pouring out of his tent at Glastonbury' - yep, running for the nearest Herbal Highs stand, no doubt. George Ezra? Pigeon toed twat. Knock-kneed gnat. I think he just sang a line about Gordon Brown. James is becoming hysterical, and not in a good way. We're praying to be called for dinner right now.
James says there's a lot of 'sub UB40 stuff out at the moment.' Just stop and consider that sentence. Sub UB40. Fuck.
Next up is Ella Henderson. I've not heard this much but it sounds like it's off an advert. Her mouth gets on my nerves. I know that's not her fault, but there it is. James is nodding his head to this one, it's his second favourite after Take That.
My mum has just come in to express her disgust at at Matt Willis. She said 'He takes over the whole band. Talk about ruining a good group.' Hold on, I just bought you their CD, I say. She goes, 'I like to listen to them but I couldn't watch a DVD with them on now. I don't know how Emma Willis puts up with him.' Fair comment, but he had to put up with her misogyny and bias so it's swings and roundabouts. No point trying to explain that to my mum, though.
'Ed Sheeran, your favourite!' I went to James. My mum failed to detect the sarcasm and said 'I knew gingers would have their day.' Ed Sheeran has not even got a nice voice. It sounds whiny. I didn't look up once when he was on. Offensive to all senses.
Who are Clean Bandit? Sounds like Mr Muscle. My mum is not impressed. But she has got a large glass of Baileys. I've not even had a drink yet. God knows I need one.
My mum is looking at the CD cover for her McBusted CD now. I said, 'Sorry, I should have crossed out Matt Willis's face for you' and she goes, 'Dont worry, I can do that', quick as you like, followed by 'He's gross.'
Haenow now. I've heard from a reliable source that he wasn't even a van driver. Honestly. How will the pop lizards try and pull the wool over our eyes next? Why wasn't he there in the studio? Could they not afford the CGI? Poor sod, he'll never get to be on TOTP now. His career will be over by next Christmas.
I asked my mum to sum up that TOTP in one words. She said, crap. On that note, I wish you a merry Christmas, JLS style. Have a good one.

Top of the Pops New Years Eve

I've written that title just as they have on the TV listing; no need for commas, dashes, or any other punctuation when you have offcuts from the dried old turkey you served us up on Christmas day to try and stuff down our neck again. It's all new stuff? Don't kid a kidder.
Oh yeah, here's Girls Aloud. At least they're doing the one with a tune this time. I mean, it has a tune compared to the other one, not to something actually with a tune.
So, I have to tell you, I'm not going out tonight. My boyfriend is working, my best friend is pregnant, and other offers haven't exactly been flying in (can't think why). So here's what I'm gonna do: get up at 7am when my boyfriend gets in and celebrate New Year then. We'll probably have midnight about midday. So I'll be tucked up before any fireworks go off tonight. I'll tape all the rubbish TV, shut the curtains and just watch it all tomorrow. It could be a LONG day. Or a short, messy one.
Anyway, less about my personal life, here's Ellie Goulding. Was she on the Xmas day show? I don't remember seeing her enormous face there. An undercut does not a popstar make. Oh, she's forgotten to put her trousers on like Arg in the live TOWIE (disclaimer: I do not watch TOWIE, just watched 5 minutes to see what the hoo ha was about). ANYTHING COULD HAPPEN! sings Ellie. Except for the BBC being called into account for aiding and abetting a paedophile for a few decades. And a decent song coming on this TOTP. Apart from those two things, anything could happen.
I'm drinking and eating chocolate now, so I guess NYE has begun, even if it's my stunted little gnarled version of it. Just spoke to my best friend on the phone and she's going to bed now because she's got to get up at 4am to go to work, so things could be worse. Her boyfriend is staying in too. We're a useless lot!
LOL, Script dude who looks like Peter Andre is talking in an American accent. This song made me bellow with laughter the first and only time I heard it before this. You can be an astronaut... it's like this prick and Will.i.am are your primary school careers advisor. Go work in a call centre instead. Is Willy going to beam in? Hologram? Or just a sick note? YOU CAN BE A CHAMPION. 'Be truth seekers' is my favourite line. Has William been going on about UFOs again? Don't go to McDonalds with him, he nearly did a Brian Harvey on Cheryl Cole last time. If you like this song, go to the doctors. Your marbles have fallen out.
They are mentioning some singers who died this year. Don't suppose I should make a joke about that. Jubilee; blah, lizard queen, blah. Next. I want to say something funny about Reggie and Fearne but there's nothing to say. They're so bland they make my humour chip dry up.
Oh Christ, it's pop's sourest female talent judge, Tulisa. Who is writing her tweets? She's completely illiterate. Is it OK for her to make death threats etc on there? Good example! That and the bag snatching. Great choice of the new 'nations sweetheart', Simon. This song is equally catchy and annoying like Saturday Night by Whigfield. This isn't her sort of music. Where's the URBAN? Louis Walsh is going to turn on, think that's urban, and get all confused and unnecessary. I went to Ibiza this year and playing in the clubs were Tulisa, Kaiser Chiefs and Sting. And here ends that sentence.
Next up, the Macabees. These do seem to be different bands to who were on the Xmas day show, well except Girls Aloud. Who are the Macabees? Have I even spelt that right? The Macabees, The Vaccines, Ed Sheeran, it's all just music for people who don't like music, not like that good stuff we used to have, like Marion and Mansun and Menswear. Not sure this guy's hair is naturally jet black. His barnet is like Nick Cave meets Steve McDonald. Now there's a collision Street Cars aren't insured for. Maca-blees. Imagine going to their gig? I'd rather go to Tulisa's. NEXT!
Now for Taylor Swift, who's not really there. This song is catchy, catchier than a zombie virus. I put in the same box as that Call Me Maybe bullshit. You'll be singing it later, but you'll want to stab yourself in the eye for it. I can never quite get over her teeth. She looks like Bugs Bunny. I know they've got dentists in America, because they did Brandon's veneers, right? Does anyone REALLY believe she's fucking Harry Styles? That kid's got more beards than a Father Christmas convention. It makes me sick the way magazines sexualise One Direction. THEY ARE CHILDREN. They might be barely legal but it's still fucking sick. The talking bit in this song makes me cringe, too. 'I was like, whatever.' Yeah, whatever, Taylor, stop sleeping around, who do you think you are, Rhianna? Of course, it's alright for Harry Styles, because he's a man, and he's gay anyway, so it's not really happening. Come back Jonas Brothers, all is forgiven. I do like the Breaking Bad parody of this song, though, and it makes me go 'ooh, Heisenberg' whenever I hear it, so it's not all nuclear war and famine.
Who the fuck are Stooshy? Stooshe?! Is that Emile Sande again, smuggling herself back in under false pretences. 'Daddy, I'm falling for a monster, he's scaring me to death, he's big and he's bad, he's the best I've ever had'. Please tell me I just hallucinated those lyrics. Fuck, I'm going to have to pause and go and get a vodka. Is this like a doo wop song about domestic violence? These lyrics are creepier than 'He hit me and it felt like a kiss'. Plus, why would you tell your parents 'he's the best I ever had'? TMI! Need to know basis! One just screeched at the end 'he got a dirty black heart'. There's probably an explicit version of this song. This is fucked in the head. Agog.
Next up, Tiny 'he's got so many clothes he keeps some at his aunt's house' Tempah and Calvin 'boring' Harris. This is dance music for people too thick to work out how to find where any proper dance music resides online. 'Tonight we're drinking from the bottle!' Yeah, probably other people's. At least Tiny seems to have a sense of humour, what with those clothes and everything. Calvin (worst popstar name ever) just seems to have got lost on his way to accounts. What a knob twiddler. This song is making me SO GLAD I'm not going out tonight. People. Tubes. Music. Urgh. Just pass the valium and let's sleep through the lot of it.
Next up is Arlissa, or Shakira with no trousers on, if you prefer. I don't.
Oh fucking hell, it's Robbie Williams again. Thanks for making the last part of 2012 unbearable, you fat odious fuckface. He also ruined the first few seconds of the new Millennium for me, as the club I was in (Passion!) played a dance version of, you guessed it, Millennium. Motherfuckers. Oh well, his lyrics are always a good laugh. He looks jaundiced. Hopefully he's dying. I know it sounds harsh, but if it was him or Gary hanging off a cliff, you know who you'd save. You know!
What has he got in his hand? Is he conducting? Imagine being in Robbie Williams' backing band. You'd honestly be better off working in an abattoir, wouldn't you? It would be less morally abhorrent.
This song doesn't even have any funny lyrics, it's just blahblahblahblah. Go fish those bodies out of the Bodhi tree, you fucking tortoise.
Ah, finally. I like this Rita Ora song. I never used to admit I liked any pop music, this year I've actually confessed to a few guilty pleasures. My boyfriend likes Diamonds by Rhianna but only the 'shine bright like a diamond' backing bit. Rita's looking a bit more presentable tonight, but still a bit like she's wearing a 6-year-old's quilt cover. Rita. It's not exactly a rock and roll name, is it? Next up, it's Mavis with Deathsticks!
Next up are the Rizzle Kicks. I've got a bad feeling about this. I thought Rizzle Kicks was a person, like Dizzie Rascal. Oh Lord, there's a onesie, and a Burberry scarf. Mama do the hump? Fuck off.
And now James Arthur is back again, reanimated. Have they fixed his teeth yet? No, it's just the same performance they showed on Christmas Day. Oh, so he did finally get to number one. Knocked those poor dead children off the top spot did you, hey, Cowell? I hope you're pleased with yourself. Happy New Year, you bastard.

Top of the Pops Christmas 2012

Well here we are with Exitainment's inaugural Christmas TOTP blog and I hope Fearne and Reggie are going to give a full apology at the start of the show. No not for Jimmy Savile, but for the appalling music coming up.
Oh Christ, I hate it when they tell me what's next, it makes me despair. First up, Robbie Williams. My boyfriend insists this song is Ring of Roses. Oh, he even says it. This is entirely tuneless. This fat cunt can't sing a note. Has he been smoking crack? I'd rather watch Gary Barlow duet with Christopher Maloney again. My boyfriend said Gary co-wrote this as 'industrial sabotage'. The audience looks like a bad hen do, it's like they've made sure everyone's over 40 in case of any misunderstandings. I can safely say that's the worst Robbie Williams song ever released. It makes Rudebox sound like Everyday is like Sunday.
So, Call Me Maybe is rubbish except for the chorus. Did anyone order a female Justin Beiber? Take it back, then. The audience are too old to have heard of this song, but at least no one will get molested, except maybe Carly Rae thingybob.
Conor Maynard is like an uglier Justin Beiber, if that was possible. I don't know who this little prick is, but he's got a very punchable face. He looks like Toby Maguire pre-plastic surgery. This is completely TUNELESS. FUCK OFF. This has gone on about 5 minutes longer than it should have.
My boyfriend is shocked they've not changed the logo or renamed it TOTPv2 or something. They truly are shameless. Fearne: apologise immediately. On your knees. Reggie, keep your hands in your pockets.
Paloma Faith is just a walking car boot sale on legs. Why is she dragging Michael Hutchence's dead body out of the closet for Christmas? Let Peaches and Astile enjoy Christmas in peace. I didn't know Paloma thing even sang, I thought she just made a career out of getting on 'worst dressed' lists. That personality is completely put on, too. I've seen more authentic Ray-Bien sunglasses.
My boyfriend: 'Is Fearne pregnant?' No, she's just gobbled up a passing baby.
Sam and the Womp? Have I missed something? Has Bjork fallen on hard times? Ali G has turned up in his Jim'll fix it tracksuit, that's in poor taste. I have never heard this song before in my life. Hopefully I'll never hear it again. You have to respect a fringe that short, though. Please get that trumpet off my screen. Come back 2 Unlimited, all is forgiven.
Oh fuck, someone's reanimated Florence. She isn't dead? Why does she look like that, then? I'd rather be locked in a room and forced to listen to Enya for three weeks than listen to this bullshit. Where's the machine? Probably keeping an old lady alive over Christmas. Anyone who likes this kind of music will be first against the wall in my new world order. How old is Florence now? 26? In dog years, maybe.
Coldplay are being beamed in from a nuclear bunker. Apple's gone a bit mad with the magic markers. There's an elephant in the room: it ain't the only one! This song is shit. My boyfriend has just hid his head under a blanket.
Next up: Girls Aloud. Watch them not show Sarah Harding's face once cos its too busted. Kimberley is my favourite. This song is boring. The other one they've got out is better. There's a lot of ombré on that stage. 'I'm beautiful cos you love me'. You're dumped. What now? Girl power!
Has Rita Ora sorted out her fashion sense since X Factor? She's going 'huh!' like Jessie J. She's got foil pyjamas on. Also unflattering. Stick her in the oven. I like one of her songs. Not this one, though. Still, now we've got her, can we drown Jessie J?
What is 'rudimental feat John Newman'? What sort of music is this? He looks like some prick off Towie. He sounds like he's got a frog in his throat. Now someone in a Christmas jumper is playing a trumpet. Makes you pine for the lizard Queen's speech. There's a lot of people on that stage. All arseholes.
Reggie Yates: 'the power of love... ask your mum.' Patronising prick. You don't know when I was born! This is another song off a fucking advert. Why is there a guitar/bass-player there? The power of sludge. Fuck you po-faced snowmen and insipid girl. This is making me sleepy. My boyfriend's verdict: 'this makes me want to go in John Lewis and smash some shit up'.
Payphone! I think Payphone is my song of the year. I'm not even joking. Script dude and Will.i.am, not so much.
Has James Arthur had his teeth fixed? Nah, not yet. At least he's growing his hair out a bit now. I like this song! I think it's quite catchy.
I did enjoy The Killers Runaways song this year, too. I like Brandon when the vein in his neck is throbbing like he's just had words with Richard Dawkins. No sign of him here, though.
Argh, what is it with this Emily Sande agenda? Who are her fans? What sort of music is this? I feel oppressed by its averageness.
So James Arthur didnt even get Christmas number one? Haven't the people of Hillsborough suffered enough? Bland Aid. Ugh, what was the criteria for getting people to sing this song, Northern and a prick? And then pops up Fab Macca. Enough said. I'm pleased about the justice. No need to inflict this on us, too, though.
My mum's boyfriend has got some morphine patches. I think it might be time to slap on 17 of them. Merry Christmas.

Christmas Top of the Pops 2010

I did this last year, so that makes this a tradition now, right? And I'm not blogging the Christmas soaps. Hopefully I'll be too drunk to. What does Reggie Yates do the rest of the year, I wonder? Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstal's let himself go, too.
Cee Lo Green. Who's he? Isn't he that Gnarls Barkley guy? I've never heard this song before in my life, and there's nothing funny to say about it. Hold on, he just said 'Xbox or Atari'. I got an XBox for Christmas. Woo.
I don't know who Ellie Goulding is. But I know she does an Elton John song. She's gurning a bit. She looks a bit blokey, like she should be in an unfunny BBC sitcom or something. I think I prefer Diane Vickers, and I can't stand Diane Vickers. My mum's verdict: 'she's average looking, an average singer, yet she's doing brilliant. I don't get it.'
Jason Derulo. Who's that? Oh my God, I don't know any of these people. I am out of touch. Thank fuck. It's like (Fl)Usher. Mum's comment: 'he's trying to fill Michael Jackson's gap.' Oo-er. These lasers make me think something good should be happening. But it isn't.
Katy Perry can't sing Firework, which is unfortunate. Half the song is too low, half is too high. The result is a struggle. Plus this song sucks shit. She's doing that thing where you give the mic to the crowd because you can't sing a note. Courtney did that a lot when I saw her this year (but Courtney's allowed).
Olly Murs. Do we really need a new UB40? Who decided on this cod-reggae direction for him? It's not even the one about the crab. Do-be-do-be-do-bop. Fuck off.
STOP TELLING ME WHAT'S COMING UP, IT MAKES ME WANT TO TURN OFF. Who is Eliza Dolittle? Is it Martine Mcutcheon? OMFG this song is so annoying. Double Bass on stage equals The Loop equals time to go to the bar. Every sane Morrissey fan knows that. I don't think a bikini is suitable attire for Christmas day. Eliza looks like Lady Sov. Tweet tweet tweet- buzz off.
Scouting for Girls. Best remembered for being on a documentary moaning about illegal downloading of their turgid music. I think the aviator jacket is out of fashion already. If it wasn't, it is now. This is the worst thing that's been on so far, and it's had some stiff competition.
Oh god, not this fucking Flood song again. Take That. They've been everywhere this year; the country's been riddled with their floodfloodfloodfloodfloodflood. My mum just came and made a sarcastic comment about Robbie Williams because she knows how much I want to stove his face in with an iron. I wish there had been 'more of them than us' and they'd got a proper beating that put them in traction for a few months.
Tinie Tempah. He's got so many clothes he keeps some at his aunt's house. He's just got this one song, innit. Should have kept Matt Cardle's trousers at his aunt's house, too. Not just as good as Dizzie Rascal. Is that Johnny Marr on the guitar? I wouldn't put anything past that old cunt. We like the cup of tea drum skin, that's about it.
JLS. Don't like them since that one dumped her out of The Saturdays. She was The One! how can we trust another word out of their lying little mouths? This song is dreary, too. No, this song is insipid. It's a shame my mum's buggered off as I'm sure she'd have a few words to say about it.
Plan B. Have you ever seen him in the same room as Graham from Corrie? Have you? Have you? He has a lady's voice. This is the best song so far, and I don't actually like it. Where is the rock and indie this Christmas? Graham does scrub up nice, though. Perhaps he's due in court.
Coldplay. I don't mind this song but I prefer the Killers Christmas song, which in turn is not as good as 'A Great Big Sled'. He's still waiting for the snow to fall. Are him and Gwinnie in the Caribbean, we're awash with the fucking stuff. I watched Sliding Doors the other night, was quite good, except John Hannah has a face like a chewed lightbulb. Still, Chris Martin isn't much better. Should have stuck with Brad.
Chris Martin is looking a bit like Frankie Boyle today. Hope he does a racist joke at the end of this song. Just for the look on Apple's face. Kevin Webster is in the audience and seems to be enjoying himself- well, he's had a tough year.
And to top it all off, Matt Cardie hasn't even bothered to show up. Probably because he hadn't won when they filmed it. By next year, he'll be but a memory.
I hope my dinner is ready now, because I'm due a drink. Have a good one... now turn over quick, The Queen's on.

Sky 1: Must Be The Music

Oh it's the indie X Factor! Isn't that Orange Unsigned Act? Well even if it is, that isn't presented by Fearne Cotton, arbiter of all things indie and '4 realz'. But it did have Alex James* as a judge- RIP. (He's not dead, just as good as)
This show is judged by 'real talent': Jamie Gargoyle, that bloke out of Texas and Dizzie ('oliday!) Rascal. I'm missing Chezza Cole already. (Not really)
The prize of this show is to perform live at Wembley. Well, it's better than playing for the Queen, I guess. Ooh and £100K. *cheese
Dizzie Rascal always looks stoned but at least he's good for a laugh. Jamie Cullum makes me feel physically sick. I don't know how Sophie Dahl can even look at him. Sharleen Spiteri: I'd rather have Louise Wener.
First up is a child band. One member is called 'Antizzle.' Watching Jamie Cullum getting 'down wiv da kids' was embarrassing. Oh this band is quite good (for kids). JOTV, your little brother appears to be in it.
Hold on, the judges just press a button, don't they speak?! Oh they do speak. They is loving it. Jamie Cullum would play that at a party! Would he fuck! He's play some tedious jazz whilst Dahl cooked something unspellable in her cardboard kitchen. Fuck off.
Dizzie Rascal really reminds me of my brother I don't speak to. My brother isn't black, but has that same glazed look about him. And probably for the same reason (stoned). But still, there's something I like about Dizzie. He's a chancer done good. He's cool for no reason.
Do we need to be told after the 2nd break who the judges are again? I've not got amnesia. I can remember those cunts a mile off.
Next up is a boy band called MANTRIX! Mantrix! Mantrix. They have an Antony Costa figure. They called Fearne 'sweetheart'. Manprix, more like. OMG it's MANTRIXX not Mantrix. LOLZZ. There's an ugly one, an ugly one, an ugly one and a pasty one.
Dizzee doesn't look into it. Sharleen pulls a very strange face as she watches the acts, as if she's just heard one of her very own songs.
Ha, all the judges said no. Mantrixx sounds like a deodorant. Or a shaving gel.
Fearne is great for this show; her levels of transparent insincerity are about right.
Next is Pepper and Piano. Fearne is smiling. I'm not. Pepper's voice sounds like a cat getting shut in a car door when she goes for a high note. Fearne cried. Must have caught her cat in the car door earlier. Sob story! Fuck off.
Oh Fearne is telling us who the judges are again. Texas do have more than one song, apparently. Come back Cerys Matthews, all is forgiven (well, except that Mark Bannerman bullshit).
Now for some guy with purple hair and Emily Strange gloves on. Gotta love the goths. Bet he's from Northampton. Ooh it's 3 Inch nails! Trent Reznor called; he thinks you're a cunt. Dizzie: it was so crap I loved it. (Much as I feel about his music).
Next us is Daithi. He had good trainers. He's like a mini Patrick Wolf. He was kind of good, actually. He needs a vocalist. Aw, him and his girlfriend were cutey pies.
Last bit. Who are the judges again? Ah, thanks for telling me. I'm a cretin.
Ah, next up is Early to the Vineyard, a Christian band. Yes, they look like Christians (i.e. virgins). A lot of pent up aggression there. And some fine teeth. He's no closer to getting a girlfriend after that.
Patronised by Dizzie Rascal. There really is nowhere to go but down.
Oh Christ, a child playing a harp. That's enough for me.
This show was alright but it seemed to last 500 years. Even so, it was a thousand times better than Britain's Got Talent. And a tenth as good as X Factor. But of they replaced Dannii with Dizzie we could be talking.

Fearne and... Peaches Geldof

It appears a bit of the show title is missing, as the beginning of that sentence should obviously be, 'Who's your two least favourite faux-indie hangbag-carrying twonks?' If I sit here for a bit longer I could make that joke work, but I can't be bothered, so just laugh already, thanks!
Fearne (not just as good as Holly Willoughby) at least works for a living, even if she does have an obscene amount of revolting handbags, Peaches, well, with that face, she doesn't have so many options.
So Fearne goes to 'shadow' Peaches going about her business (of being a cunt). What is 'unpresidented' access, Fearne? Only you can tell us. She begins by telling us some 'myths' about Peaches; how about the one where anyone on the planet would find her attractive or funny?
Fearne is intensely irritating, from her stupid bowler hat downwards. Peaches talks like twat, because she is a twat. Why does she always sound like she's got a blocked up nose (ahem). She sounds like she'd say 'charity' 'charidee'. Her flat is fairly horrible. Mentions that Peaches is weird (by herself) so far: 1.
I like, this like, that, like... argh! What with Fearne's insincerity and Peaches' desperation to be cool, it's just unbearable. Oh, there's Peaches' cat which my boyfriend thinks is an aardvark. He's not that into nature.
Fearne: 'what do you think of all the haters out there?' She's no David Dimbleby, but in her defence, Nick Griffin is an easier interview than Peaches.
So is that magazine Peaches 'writes' still going? She mentions 'the British public'. Now SHE'S wearing a stupid bowler hat. Peaches says 'ant-eye' instead of 'anti'. That's New York living for you.
Peaches you can fiddle with your hair as much as you want, it will still look like that. Her and her friends were so cool they refused to have any fun. Fearne tried to make them drink some champagne but instead they sat round looking frumpy and describing things as 'intense'. I can't judge Peaches for finding Fearne 'lame', she is lame. But at least she's not pretending to be anything else. Peaches sits twiddling her hair talking about wormholes, and sounds every inch the student who thinks they're the first person to ever listen to The Orb and chat about aliens. But she doesn't want to talk about her 'spirituality and religion'. Forget the wormholes, she's an idiothole.
She's constantly carping on about being 'exhausted' which I reckon is because she's been out off her head all night. But Fearne was being such a dickhead as well, like your mum trying to force you to eat some toast when you're hungover, then gurning to the camera when Peaches (metaphorically) tells her to go fuck herself.
Next Fearne follows Peaches doing some 'modelling'. Peaches is tired and sulking. She makes Kelly Osbourne circa 2001 look like Taylor Swift. Peaches describes herself as 'nuts' and 'weird'.
She then admits to being a a Scientologist. Peaches, we already thought you were a moron, don't wrap it up in a bow for us. If you really believe it's not something to be ashamed of, back up your beliefs! Then she admitted she basically lucky dipped it.
Amount of times Peaches said 'like' in this documentary: 383228198.
54 minutes in and Peaches smiled for the first time. At the end Fearne concluded that maybe it was 'brave' of Peaches to be rude and difficult and to fall asleep when people are trying to interview her.
What I learnt from this show? Peaches is more boring than Peter fucking Andre, like so chronically dull it could be a medical condition. And Fearne is insufferable. And I knew these things already. Bugger.

The Truth About Online Anorexia/ Louis Theroux/ Slumdog Millionaire

Forgive me, folks, I'm about a week behind on TV at the moment, thanks to my stupid aerial, but you can probably still get this stuff on catch up, innit, if it's that bloody good. This is my mish-mash blog, with something for nobody.
And so another asinine TV presenter makes a 'serious' documentary (hi there, Alesha Dixon and Louise Nurding). This time it's crow-faced Fearne Cotton checking out 'pro-ana' websites (good advertising for them, right?) in The Truth About Anorexia.
Fearne looked at an anorexia messageboard and said 'how is this even online?' How naive is she? There's kids being raped online, Fearne, you can download anything in your wildest dreams. It's a free-for-all! It's the INTERNET. Best friend to the mentally ill and the grotesquely lonely. Plus, you're advertising it.
Fearne then went to visit some schoolkids to tell them not to worry about being fat, whilst being very thin herself. What a good role model. It was sick hearing children talk about calories, but all children are doomed now, anyway.
As usual in these programmes Fearne took the hypocritical step of 'trying out' an anorexia 'diet' (again, what a good role model).
She read on a messageboard, 'Fat people can't fit anywhere'. They can fit some places, just not through turnstiles. Fearne then made a collage of thin people to provide 'thinspiration' (giving them ideas) and said 'the last time I made a collage was when I was about 7.' Really, you're missing out, my collages are the talk of the town!
Woah, anorexia is the biggest killer of any mental illness in the UK and one in five girls with it dies of the condition! Wow, that's a lot.
Fearne then went to meet the mother of a girl who died of anorexia aged 19. Her mum told her to 'just eat more food' which is my general feeling towards anorexia. But I'm not so stupid that I think it's that easy. But how can they look in the mirror and think they look nice when they look like frail old women? It truly is a mental illness, like you go blind or something. The pictures are so horrific. It's like a horror-show.
But I don't believe celebrity causes it. Yet I don't believe it helps, either.
How awful to watch your child die of a self-inflicted illness like that.
When I was researching my novel I visited a lot of self-harm sites and they were pretty grim.Those galleries were not pretty, but they were proud of the mutilation. There's fucked-up people out there. In a way it's good they have a community that isn't the whitewashed media, but actually content with no filters is dangerous, too. I'm forever glad there was no internet when I was a young teenager.
Also, Fearne, you're not a children's TV presenter anymore (are you?) Could you stop talking in that patronising voice. Thanks.
Oh I also saw Louis Theroux's show on paedophiles which was excellent, obviously. There's not much to say about it, just watch it. Louis says more with one raised eyebrow than Fearne could in an entire lifetime. The woman in control of the bloody place was worse that the paedos! She was so stiff and robotic she made you side with child molesters. That's not right on any level.
PPS. I was going to do a whole blog on Slumdog Millionaire as I finally watched it, but what's the point, everyone has already seen it, so I'll just say a few irrelevant words. I thought it was beautifully shot, put together well, and I enjoyed it greatly. It deserved all the acclaim. I liked the British call-centre, plus my boyfriend found the Millionaire music playing over a dramatic scene near the end very funny. The dance was a nice touch, too. Probably the best bit was when he 'phoned a friend'- it was a real heart-stopper.
I thought the woman love interest was slightly miscast as she was a little too glam for Dev's character, and the film was a bit depressing at times, (no shit given the subject matter), but those were my only niggles. The children in it were excellent (don't sell her, you bastard dad git) and super-cute. The evil Chris Tarrant figure was really horrid, and excellently realised.
Next: Deal or No Deal: the feature film? I live in hope.

X Factor: 'Eating Caviar with Salad Cream'

Here we go again! Your saturday night time suckage starts here. Strap yourself in and pour yourself a large drink (or better still, sky plus it and start watching it an hour or two in- then you can forwards through Shayne Ward and the ads).
Niki was out of time- only Foghorn Dannii spotted it. I was disappointed Simon said Niki was good; she was shit. Dannii looked very good tonight I must say- very sexy dress. She's still got the wonk though; shame. I am liking Dannii a lot more than I used to, she does stand up for herself. Louis is more annoying than ever this year, but I like the banter with Simon. Simon owns him, of course.
I thought Same Difference had their best week yet, the set was kind of creepy but they were less shrill and shrieky than normal. Andy No Balls sounded like he was under water, and managed to sing a Snow Patrol song more out of tune than Gary Lightbody. Rock anthem? Not in my house. Bless him in his little 'rock' T-shirt. Beverley was a zillion times better than Niki and in no way deserved to be in the bottom two... hmm, now why could she be? Because of racist Britain, of course! Disappointing.
I thought Hope were quite good, they weren't under-dressed and I thought they sang well. Leon was AWFUL, again. Dancing in the Moonlight is horrific. Please stop him dancing, it makes me not fancy him anymore. I'm not even going to comment on the 'woo!'s or the waving. SHUDDER. His waistcoat was also unnecessary. Alisha had a bland song but I thought it was her best week. Rhydian has a face only his mother could love but he seemed a lot more humble this week and I liked him more for it (it's probably an act! I'm easily fooled).
It was HEARTBREAKING when Andy went out; he took it soooo badly. His lip quiver was too much to bear. I can't stand seeing men cry, especially not such a pretty one. Dermot didn't know where to look.
The Xtra factor was HILARIOUS afterwards, it was like someone had told Leon Andy had cancer; his little red-rimmed eyes and hands praying to some God to please, make it right.
Also, don't tell anyone, but against my better judgement I've also started quite liking Fearne on the Xtra Factor. Shhh!