Sunday, November 23, 2008

The X Factor

The X Factor

x factor - cheryl cole is not a high street shopper and has no fashion sense

Posted: 23 Nov 2008 02:47 PM CST

If it were not for fashion stylists like victoria adcock, cheryl cole would still be looking like trailor trash and buying clothes from the thrift shops and sunday street markets. Tony responds to the gossip magazines and tabloids lies about cheryl TRAMP STAMP coles fashion transformation. Who paid them off to say such nice things about cheryl TRAMP STAMP cole, or was it an exclusive photo shoot that enticed you?

Our feature commenter Tony Montana sums it up:

Tony, my only question to you is: how low does the fabric on cheryl TRAMP STAMP cole’s legs need to be to cover up her monstrousity of a tattoo?

To all those who love cheryl TRAMP STAMPs fashion sense and looks, I ask you: If she was so proud of her tattoo’s ladies and gentlemen, wouldn’t she be proud to show it off, yet she is always seen with most of them covered up (besides the one on the side of her hand as she smokes a fag)

Tony - take it away from here:

Cheryl Cole is that ever so popular example of how a thickheaded Geordie rake thin bag of bones can don herself in the very latest retro trakkies and well, still look like she did years ago as a fledgling girl group wannabee. If you're dying to know how we can all look as beautiful as her, then its quite simple. Follow Cheryl's quickstep programme in Gypsey Refugee Camp chic.

The well known, non ambassador for those of us from the North East of England - the true inheritors of ancient Briton culture and up to the minute fashion awareness, shames us and makes people think she is like us. She isn't.

This Pimani Princess struts and cavorts in the very latest 'high street' fashion. Well, maybe the high street she envisages is the local Matalan for the oodles of cheap sportswear, completing the whole ensemble from the local Poundshop with a jaunty little cap. Worn at an attempt to identity hide yet attention seeking at the the same time angle of course.

Add in some industrial strength fake tan, loopy clanky jewellery and you have the whole ensemble. Now that she is supposedly expecting a baby, God help us all if the offspring is a girl - the obsession for Pikey females to dress their kids as 'mini me' versions of themselves would be so completely unbearable in Cherile's case.

Stay away from the trakkies love - they may cover you up and you may try to claim their comfort outweighs their dull appearance, but retro tramp chic is definitely not going to take off. The Vikky Pollard scrunchie pony tail is soooooo not working for you.

Maybe buying the outer skin from a Wig-Wam might help next time you take a clothing shopping trip. At least you could climb right inside it and we wouldn't have to see any part of you at all.

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x factor - talent vs. jls pinup good looks. Are you sorry to see rachel hylton leave?

Posted: 23 Nov 2008 02:08 PM CST

Amongst the thousands of comments we receive at thexfactor fan site, none have the voracity or tone or thought that go into them as much as our favourite comment writer tony montana.

Should jls have gone through or should the mary j. blige-esque singer rachel hylton have been given another week to shine? Tony, tells it from the heart, with style:

This song can only be described as having a Jumbo Jet taking off vocal range. Rachel Hylton however, seemd to push it into Space Shuttle territory. Now don't get me wrong - every week I have watched, I have practically hurled stuff at the TV screen - I mean, how many more Mary J Bilge treats can one girl offer us in one series of a programme?

Despite Rachel's valiant efforts week after week to convince us that she isn't the loud mouthed, pushy, argumentative ex drug addict with an explosive temper she used to be, despite her ever changing appearance from short Masey Gray type hair to the more recent Gabriel-esgue hairdo, the British public have waved goodbye to this champion of female power surge singing.

In a sense, I'm kind of glad, becaue at least the ornaments in my room won't vibrate or implode in the future. Yes, she can belt them out, but unfortunately, her previous X Factor appearances can only be described as 'fog-horn-esgque' performances. Struggling to find the right song to sing, her mentor, Danni 'Stick Insect' Minogue pushed her week after week to be the new voice of Black Britain, a kind of Mary J Blige mixed with the innadequate dance steps of a constipated penguin combined with the thrusting vocal volume of Shirley Bassey.

Who could ever forget that memorably insane version of Michael Jackson's 'Dirty Diana' sood on top of the piano with a large Belisha Beacon sized microphone? Truly and utterly disastrous. The most exciting part, of the whole sorry event, were the two half naked motorbike riders sat there pretending to curve and ride around while she was shrieking and spoiling the song. The whole thing looked ridiculous. I wanted someone to hurl her onto the back of the motorbikes and ride her off at high speed, providing some instant relief for audience and viewer alike.

Rachel was told by Simon Cowell "We're here again" as she faced the sing offs. Third time there, but perhaps no one has actually twigged at that point, that the public just don't get her. Not once, has she provided enough smoothness or control to that megaphone voice of hers, to show she can actually sing, rather than shout out the lyrics. Week after week, she was turned out in awful outifits that would most likely be on the 'reduced' rack at your local cancer charity shop, week after week she was told "you just haven't got it", week after week she returned like the Jehova's Witnesses, who just wouldn't take no for an answer. Each week, I yelled even louder at the television screen for her to be booted off.

However, I have to say, that last night in the sing off, she was marvellous for that huge soaring "I'm telling you" song - miles more superior in quality, tone and delivery than the awful drunken karaoke version of 'Stand By Me' by the JLS boys - who have clearly become a mere shadow backing group of "uhm-ahs-doowaps" and "yeahs" for the munchkin sized one, who seems to be taking over the lead singing with an alarming frequency. Maybe sensing the boy contestants are increasingly under threat from the ubiquitous Geordie Primani Princess Cheryl Cole's onslaught of dull, dreary females, he's striking up a bid to split from JLS, leaving them as just 'L&S' and bounding forward as a solitary 'J', seeking to scoop up the X Factor crown himself?

Rachel's performance was soulful, intense, emotionally charged, genuine and sincere. Perhaps she detected the writing was on the wall for her departure. Perhaps it was because Leona Lewis was on the show a few weeks back, stamping her territory as the only British foghorn voice of the moment. Another Whitney 'crack-whore' Heuston or 'Mariah screecher Carey' we don't need thank you very much. I mean, they're OK for smoochy emotionally charged, alcohol fuelled Essex chav weddings, but not your daily commute to work on your ipod.

Throughout the auditions, we had specimen after specimen going for the big shouty notes, the warbling "Woah-a-oh-a-oh-oh-woahawoho" vibrating notes, line after line of Duffy/Winehouse moaners and girls who wanted to explode with raw emotion. I can see that Leona Lewis' reign as the big chord wondergirl could have been threatened by Miss Hylton's 150 decibel vocal chords. There simply aren't enough earplugs in the chemists of Britain to save us from the assault on the airwaves that would have taken place with the two of them let loose in some warped, 'Oasis Vs Blur' showdown - but only this time with power ballads and sequins.

JLS murdered their song, especially the 'suicidal' part that they transposed into a 1950's shoowap-de-do-wah eruption. An aural treat, I'm not likely to forget for a while. But, Rachel deserved to stay last night if indeed it was based upon 'strength of performance' as the cardboard cutout, self promoting judges continually state. last night, little Twiglet Minogue indeed gained her vengeance, for all the fighting and disagreements between her and Rachel over the past few weeks' song choices.

I don't think she will be shedding any tears for rachel - unlike the fake crocodile tears she blubbed out over Lou-Lou Walshe's supposed insensitivity. Oh yeah, so upset and full of tears her thick caked on, industrial strength mascara refused to budge - now I would have loved to have seen her sat there with it streaked all over her face, like an Antipodean rocker - less Alice Springs more like Alice Cooper.

So goodbye Rachel. You came, you saw, you conked out. At least I can turn the TV volume up next Saturday without fearing my eardrums are going to bleed anymore.

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