He says, sitting in bed at half twelve in the afternoon.
Right, not too disappointed with the final three. (If you were expecting postings of substance and philosophical intrigue, you may be slightly disappointed.)
I would want Stacey to come third because I think while she has a lovely voice she is quite a dull performer. And cruel as it is to say, her personality is so irritating I can't stand to listen to her in interview. Which I know isn't really the point, but fuck it, it is about being likeable.
However, Olly's smug self-congratulatory "YEAYEYAHEHA" displays when he gets through every week make me want him to fail. Shadenfreude or whatever, which I am usually trying SO hard to be above. This programme brings out the worst in me. But his hip-waggling retro tight shiny trousered bollocks wore off about Week 6 for me and he's not so fantastic. He's not the new Robbie, he's nothing near that interesting. So fuck it.
The McElderflowerCordial boy can win it. He can sing (they all can to be fair, but he's got a good voice compared to Olly I think), and his performance of up-beat numbers (Circle of Life, that famous Journey track) I really liked. Yeah, he's stage school, and he does loads of wallowing, boring admittedly pitch-perfect shit like the semi-final, but he's still my favourite. Also, he's about as cute as a bag of puppies. I know that shouldn't count, but Olly's infeasible jaw and brow make me feel like discriminating against people from Essex is fair game. You get the feeling if Olly and Stacey had a child it would be a Supermutant known only as The Jaw, that was too stupid to put its pants on.
That said if Jedward can win by write-in, I'm for that, clearly. They now appear too famous to appear anywhere, for fear of being bottled to death. My housemates are still angling to get them over for dinner. As if there is any cuisine fine enough.
Which brings me neatly on to Foie Gras. Those who don't know, it is a luxury foodstuff made from the livers of force-fed geese. It's cruel, and apparently darn good eating. Someone from inside the Student Union has suggested banning it, admitting it is at the moment "a hypothetical" since nowhere in the Union serves foie gras.
I plan to table a motion to prohibit the Pharoh from beating us with reeds while we fan him on his chaise longue, decadently popping grapes into his mouth and cackling.
Anyway, that'll do for a first post. I should probably have a shower, and a chat with my immune system, that seems to hate me. At least if I don't shave people will expect me to behave like a homeless man, and that way I can disappoint as few people as possible.