And, well, that’s it. They all gave it their best shot, but in the end it was 4th Impact who leapt off this sinking ship while they still could. You haven’t seen the last of them, unless you’re planning to avoid their brief and cursory exit interview on tomorrow morning’s Good Morning Britain, in which case you definitely have. Anyway, thanks for reading. I’ll be back here next Saturday at 8pm for more of this. At this stage, I wouldn’t blame you for giving it a miss. Bye!
Poor 4th Impact. This means that, from now on, X Factor is about three brutally dull semi-crooners and Reggie N Bollie. REGGIE N BOLLIE MUST WIN X FACTOR OR or oh actually I don’t really care.
The public has spoken, and it hates 4th Impact. Lauren leans in for a hug, growls ‘You’ve bladdy ad it mate’ to her defeated opponents and then stalks offstage.
Simon seems stumped. He sends Lauren home, so it’s a deadlock. It’s like Louis Walsh never left, isn’t it.
Now for the judges who aren’t cartoonishly one-sided. Nick waffles and waffles and waffles and then sends 4th Impact home. If Simon does the same, they’re out. If not, it’s a deadlock.
Cheryl next. She chucks Lauren out because of course she does.
Rita’s up first. Obviously she chucks 4th Impact out, but she manages to string it out for about 15 minutes.
I’ve made a decision. They should both leave. And Che Chesterman should leave as well. And the other ones. And then next weekend I can go and drink mulled wine next to a fire somewhere. Deal? No?
Lauren’s doing that song that sound like it’s by but probably isn’t by Whitney Houston. I hope that helps. She’s doing an awful lot of yelling too, but this time it’s the sort of yelling you hear in karaoke bars frequented by people who think they’re very slightly better at singing than they actually are.
Lauren Murray now. Rita Ora is throwing an actual tantrum about her inclusion in the sing-off, so I’m inclined to want her to leave.
Well, that happened.
I think it’s good. But I honestly have no idea. I might just be trying to trick my own brain into thinking that it’s good so it feels like it’s over sooner. If I am, it; isn’t bloody working.
4th Impact are up first. They’re doing the song from Dreamgirls that accommodates the most amount of agonised yelling. And, hoo boy, are they ever yelling.
Oh, they’re actually going to do a proper sing-off. You had one job, Blardigan.
I have no idea who’d go in a traditional sing-off, mind you. I prefer 4th Impact, but I suspect that Lauren is more popular. It could go either way, and that’s why I really want this thing to be decided with a violent free-for-all where Lauren and 4th Impact try to batter each other to death with each others’ torn-off limbs.
In fact, no, let’s definitely just have a fistfight. Lauren Murray on one side of the stage. 4th Impact on the other side of the stage. A broken bottle and a bicycle chain in the middle of the stage. Someone blows a whistle and they’ve all got two and a half minutes to murder each other. I would totally watch that.
BLARDIGAN, IF YOU’RE READING, I WOULD TOTALLY WATCH THAT.
The bad news is that Lauren Murray and 4th Impact are in the sing-off. The good news is that there has to be at least a decent chance that this elimination will be settled with a fistfight.
And Reggie N Bollie are through, obviously.
Oh my. This means everyone should forget all their lyrics next week. It’s clearly a huge vote-winner.
Louisa’s through too, but you knew that.
Three acts are definitely safe. Two will sing. One will leave. First act safe is...
Che ChesterWHAAAAAAAA?
Anyway, screw this. Let’s kick one of these ninnies out.
An advert for personalised Nutella now. A few years ago I mentioned KFC so much here that I got a free KFC voucher out of it. With that in mind, I WOULD REALLY LIKE SOME PERSONALISED NUTELLA PLEASE.
Anyway, that’s over. Now for a competition to win Simon Cowell’s actual car. I have two thoughts.
THOUGHT ONE: Simon Cowell’s car has the registration number ‘PRIZE’, which seems awful convenient.
THOUGHT TWO: I really hope that Blardigan isn’t still on the show next year, because I’m worried that – if he is – the big prize will be one of his godawful hats.
‘We had to bring something big to stage’ says one of Rita’s co-performers who reminds me of one of my cousins. The one who’s a car salesman.
Ooh, there’s a stage invasion. I wish it was Calvin Harris with a pineapple again, but no. It’s actually the top percentile of uncoordinated dancers that this country has to offer, and they’re all flinging themselves around like they’re trying to shake fire ants out of their foreskins. It is mortifying.
Rita’s singing a song called Coming Home, which sounds as if it was specifically engineered to play during the bits of next year’s audition shows where someone doesn’t think they’re going to get through to the next round, but then they do. This, incidentally, is the nicest thing that anyone will ever say about this song.
Now it’s time for Rita Ora to pick up Cheryl Fernandez-Versini’s mantle of X Factor Judge Most Likely To Dress Inappropriately And Flail Around On A Stage Accompanied By The Universe’s Least Memorable Music. I suppose we should get this over and done with, shouldn’t we. Hopefully it’ll be short.
We’re back. Votes are closed. Simon Cowell has the hiccups. This is the most exciting thing to have happened all weekend.
Oh, an advert for the official make-up of Star Wars. That’s right, Star Wars apparently has an official brand of make-up. Which shouldn’t be a surprise, because earlier this evening I genuinely saw an advert for the official snack cheese of Star Wars. Is it me, or is this getting to Sex and the City 2 levels of desperate brand tie-ins?
Now for an advert for skincream by that woman from Good Housekeeping who doesn’t know how to pronounce ‘Good Housekeeping’. She is my favourite woman of all.
Blardigan is now talking to the acts backstage. ‘Are you trying to forget that awful cock-up last night, Che?’ he asks Che. ‘Che? Che? Che? Remember that cock-up? Che? You messed it up beyond all recognition, didn’t you? Che? Che? Look at me when I’m destroying your self-esteem Che. Che? Oi Che?’ Then he leaves.
Oh, it wasn’t. But Carrie Underwood still has the vague air of someone who’d poison people for money. Time for her post-song interview, though. WHAT’S THE SONG CALLED CARRIE IS IT FROM YOUR NEW ALBUM CARRIE ARE YOU ON TOUR CARRIE WHO DO YOU WANT TO WIN X FACTOR CARRIE NOW GET OUT.
So hang on, this is a song about driving a man out into the deep wilderness and then causing his heart to violently beat in his chest against his will? Is she trying to kill him? Is that what this song is about? That’s certainly what it sound like it’s about. Is Carrie Underwood some sort of habitual poisoner? I guess we’ll have to wait and see whether the last verse is about ritualistically rolling around in someone’s blood before making their children cry by contesting their will.
Carrie’s singing a song about dancing to someone else’s heartbeat. I hope she’s not dancing to mine, because this song is so boring that I think my entire cardiovascular system has packed up, and that’d probably be quite awkward to dance to.
Anyway, it’s time for a guest performance by Carrie Underwood! Who? Carrie Underwood. You mean Kelly Clarkson? No, I mean Carrie Underwood; she was on the same show as Kelly Clarkson at possibly the same time. What the hell? Am I supposed to know who this woman is? No. No you’re not.
Also, here’s a discussion I had earlier today. This is the moment that X Factor peaked. It’s been a long slow decline since then
Here you go. This pretty much sums up last night’s X Factor too.
Great. Another recap. You know what? I’m not going to participate in this. Let me find a funny YouTube video. I’ll show you that instead.
Oh, they’re just singing sincerely. What a wasted opportunity. Personally I think a song about sad elephants would have been greatly improved by the sight of two middle-aged men going ‘WOOP WOOP REGGIE N BOLLIE BOOM BOOM BOOM’ over and over again like a couple of drunk children, but what the hell do I know?
Oh Jesus. The group performance is happening now, and they’re doing Earth Song. And Reggie N Bollie have to somehow contribute to this. I am excited.
And then Che naused it all up. THE END. I HOPE THAT WAS USEFUL. WHAT? IT WASN’T USEFUL AT ALL? IT WAS ACTUALLY QUITE REDUNDANT? Welcome to my life.
Reggie N Bollie did a song, and didn’t realise they were rubbish. Louisa did a song and was rubbish, and then said ‘Wot’ about a trillion times in three seconds backstage.
4th Impact did a song, and didn’t realise they were rubbish. WHAT’S NEXT?
Oh but here’s a poxy recap. Louisa did a song, then admitted that she was rubbish. WHAT’S NEXT?
Anyway, let’s meet the judges.
NICK! Wearing one of Tim Lovejoy’s old shirts
RITA! Once again dressed like the mistress of a recently deceased pensioner
CHERYL! Wearing a sort of Union Jack made of limbs and internal organs.
SIMON! Moving his face around, just to show that he still can.
Blardigan and Flack dance onstage. It’d be a subtle nod to the dominance of Strictly Come Dancing, except Flack ruined it by going ‘WRONG SHOW BERHERHEHRHERHERHERHERHERHER’.
‘No-one deserves to go no-one’ says Nick Grimshaw. That’s a double negative, which means he thinks that everyone should go and I agree.
The first recap tonight is literally just an explicit reminder that everyone was rubbish yesterday. Sad background music and everything. That cannot possibly be anything like a good sign.
They’re all wearing white tonight. What I wouldn’t give for a bandolier of squeezy ketchup tomatoes.
IT’S TIME! TO REMEMBER! WHAT HAPPENED YESTERDAY IN SOME DETAIL!
But before the show, I’m watching Strictly. Which, by the way, is nowhere near as good as the daytime TV show where Ainsley Harriott desperately tries in vain to make Len Goodman eat anything other than chips. That’s probably my favourite TV show the moment. I should probably liveblog that.
SUNDAY BLOODY SUNDAY
Oh, thanks for coming back, you tiny band of resilient idiots. It’s time for the X Factor Liveblog: The Sunday Night Results Show Afterthought. I only hope you’re ready for this.
With the X Factor semi-finals taking place next week, the contestants find themselves with everything to play for, and by ‘everything’ I mean ‘the chance to duck out now with some dignity intact’. All the acts have tried their hardest to ensure that they’ll be eliminated tonight – last night they forgot the lyrics, hid at the back of the studio and made a noise like a dolphin with a punctured lung – but tonight only one of them can leave.
So that’ll happen tonight. Plus there’ll be a guest performance by Carrie Underwood from American Idol, and another guest performance by Rita Ora from X Factor. Plus there’ll be a trillion recaps, more adverts than you could ever shake a stick at and a weird, all-encompassing sensation that you’re actively wasting your own precious life. Hooray. Join me at 8pm.
And on that anticlimactic barrage of numbers and recaps, it’s time to say goodbye. Mathematically, there aren’t enough contestants left to warrant a double elimination, so only one act will leave tomorrow night. That’s the bad news. The good news is that I’ll be here to liveblog it from 8pm. Wait, that’s not good news either, is it? There’s no good news, is there? Everything is coldness and dust. BYE!
Simon Cowell says that Louisa is one of the best acts that X Factor has ever seen. If the Simon Cowell from five years ago said that, it might have meant something. This Simon Cowell, though, only says things to avoid awkward silences. We’re lucky that he didn’t bark like a dog instead, frankly.
Wouldn’t it be nice if Louisa didn’t scream every song like she was trying to hail a taxi to escape a volcano? That was rhetorical, it’d be very nice.
This is a bad song performed annoyingly, but at least Louisa is dressed as that confetti that ended up in 4th Impact’s hair earlier. That’s something, isn’t it?
Anyway, here’s Louisa Johnson. She’s singing Jealous by Labyrinth. I don’t know the song, but Rita Ora chose it so there’s a pretty good chance that it isn’t very good. Rita Ora, remember, has never made a good decision in her life.
A TV producer friend of mine just sent me a message saying that he mistook Cheryl dancing onstage with Reggie N Bollie with Judy Finnegan, and now that’s all I can see.
More adverts now, including one that actively encourages customers to waste the time of anyone they catch working at a McDonald drive-thru as elaborately as possible.
Oh, there’s going to be an X Factor tour this year. That’s great news for anyone who enjoys spending their evenings a) actively wasting money, b) feeling quite sad and c) standing in sparsely populated arenas trying to work out what Anton Stephans is singing because it’s too echoey to hear anything.
Right, that song has finished. It was identical to every other Reggie N Bollie song you’ve ever heard, expect Cheryl didn’t get onstage and clomp around like a dreadful lunatic, so that’s something.
You know, I kind of don’t want anyone to vote for Reggie N Bollie tonight, because I really want to see what they’d choose for their sing-off song. I hope it’s Everybody Hurts.
Reggie N Bollie now. I missed their VT, but you’ll survive. Anyway, Cheryl’s chosen Dynamite for Reggie N Bollie. Have I already made the Zumba class joke tonight? I have? Well in that case I’ve got nothing.
“I bloody turned it around, didn’t I?” Lauren says after the performance, and Blardigan reacts with actual fear. I don’t know whether this is because he didn’t know if ‘bloody’ constituted a swearword, or because he was scared that Lauren would shove him off the stage if he disagreed with her. But it’s definitely one of those things.
Updated
Interesting that Rita shoved Lauren on a balcony after complaining that 4th Impact were shoved into boxes. I miss plinths. God, remember plinths?
This is supposedly the song that introduces Lauren as an artist. The sort of artist who spends the majority of her life howling lifelessly from a balcony. So an impoverished artist of no real worth, then.
Now Lauren’s singing Rita’s choice, You Don’t Own Me by Grace. Cynically, it’s the song from the 2015 House of Fraser Christmas advert. Fingers crossed that Lauren makes it through to next week, where she’ll perform a medley of I Feel Like Chicken Tonight and Washing Machines Live Longer With Calgon.
Lauren’s going to sing now. In the VT, Lauren honks at a dress, honks at a phone and then honks at Rita Ora. Now it’s our turn.
I just saw an advert for Dior aftershave that literally involved Johnny Depp growling at handfuls of sand. Is this a terrible hallucination? Am I in a coma?
My wife just informed me that Che Chesterman’s dad is also called Che Chesterman. The boy really is having a dreadful night, isn’t he?
OK, it turns out that you’re not ALL Barry from EastEnders. This is a comfort.
@stuheritage I've been in the same room as Barry from Eastenders. It was a restaurant actually, we were at different tables though
— LadySG (@LadySG) November 28, 2015
Blardigan is up on the Louisa Platform with Louisa and Lauren. Somehow, Lauren manages to successfully fight the urge to angrily shove him off. You can only applaud her restraint, really.
Wait a minute, Che’s only 19 years old? I thought he was my age. And I’m OLD.
All the judges are singing their critiques to Che. This is by far the very worst moment of my entire life.
I can’t work out if this is good or not. Che’s sort of dressed like a semi-redundant Pepe Le Pew but, to paraphrase Kay Burley, there’s sadness in his eyes. Deep, deep sadness that’s quite offputting.
Come to think of it, this seems like something that Barry from EastEnders would sing if he was on X Factor. Have I ever seen Che in the same room as Barry from EastEnders? Come to think of it, have I ever seen any of you in the same room as Barry from EastEnders? Are you all Barry from EastEnders? That’s weird.
Che’s up next. He’s going to sing Try a Little Tenderness, a song he has never heard before. Given that he just struggled to sing the world’s most annoyingly ubiquitous song, this is likely to be a horrible mess. I am all for horrible messes.
Once they stop singing, the judges have a long and detailed discussion about the various merits of boxes. That isn’t an exaggeration, I promise.
Oh, so THAT’s how they’ve decided to show themselves off as individuals - they sort of all pointed at Simon Cowell at once, and then shouted ‘Simon!’, and then went and stood in their boxes again. 2015!
Oh, now they’re doing Fancy Rich Girl. This is Cheryl’s choice of song, and she chose it because the title describes her better than any other song. This is because there isn’t a song entitled Woah There Easy On The Mascara Darling.
They’re doing Fancy, in such a way that shows them off as individuals. That literally means they have to stand inside boxes with their own names written on it. Genius.
Anyway, look, we’re back. And 4th Impact are on again. In the VT, Cheryl says that she wants to try something completely new. At this stage of the show, I think this means asking her act to get all the words in their song right.
Incidentally, I’m going to write the rest of this liveblog in tribute to Che Chesterman, which means I’m planning to fall silent for long stretches of time and then fall asleep.
Simon, as the impartial judgem, is ranking the acts from best to worst now. He’s gone with this:
1 - Reggie N Bollie (who were terrible)
2 - Louisa Johnson (who was terrible)
3 - 4th Impact (who were terrible)
4 - Lauren Murray (who was terrible)
5 - Che Chesterman (who was terrible)
In short, Simon Cowell could have realistically just spent those two minutes slamming his head against the desk over and over again and we’ve have got the message.
Oh great. A recap. X Factor, you sons of bitches. The performances were, in order, too loud, too squealy, too monotone, too boring and irreparably ruined. It hasn’t been a fun hour, in short.
I believe that what Che did – forgetting what words are and fumbling around like a crying goon – is known as pulling a Blardigan. It’s OK Che. We’ve all pulled Blardigans. And, you know, it’s not like anyone is actually watching this year.
Simon just called Hello ‘a killer song’. It certainly leapt out of the woods and bashed Che’s face in with a pipe.
Oh god, Rita Ora has just initiated some pity applause. This is the end of Che Chesterman. He might as well just go home now and have Sunday off.
Oh hang on, what’s going on here? Has Che forgotten the words? This is either a bold new interpretation of the song, where the entire first verse of Hello is made up of a combination of mumbles and ‘ooh’ noises, or Che just majorly effed that the hell up.
The public has decided that Che should sing Hello by Adele. The public, I’m learning, is always wrong about everything.
Anyway, think of this as a taster for the three billion inevitable dismal X Factor Hello auditions we’ll have to put up with nine months from now.
We’re back again. And it’s Che Chesterman now, a man who – after last week’s sing-off – has to come to terms with the fact that he probably isn’t going to win X Factor. What a shame. He clearly wanted to be Ben Haenow, but he might have to settle with being Fleur East. Poor lad.
In the VT, Che opens his heart to Lauren. And, to be fair to Lauren, she doesn’t respond by furiously shoving him in the chest. This is high praise indeed for her.
There are more adverts now, that I’ve largely ignored because I forgot how to embed tweets into liveblogs. You’ll survive.
Rita got a bit ‘The public is always right about everything’ to Simon too. I have to admit, she knows what she’s talking about...
Rita Ora knows that the public is always right pic.twitter.com/ZAgiFuXnUM
— Stuart Heritage (@stuheritage) November 28, 2015
And nor did Simon. He tells her that it was a bad song choice, and Cheryl gets all ‘How dare you question the public!’ at him. The public once decided that Sam Bailey should win X Factor, so Simon probably knows what he’s talking about.
I didn’t enjoy that song, because liveblogging X Factor for all these years has prevented me from enjoying anything at all.
Still, Lauren’s singing in the Louisa spot at the back of the studio. I hope this isn’t a position that’s rolled out week after week, because Cheryl Fernandez Versini will almost definitely do herself a mischief trying to clamber up there in order to totter about awkwardly while Reggie N Bollie stare on all mortified at her.
Lauren’s public choice is Firestone by Kygo. Hopefully it’s a song allows Lauren to play to her main strengths, which at this point mainly involves angrily shoving Filipino women around a lot.
Lauren Murray now, who was apparently caught on camera shoving one of 4th Impact during Sunday’s show. Does this mean she’s the baddie now? Is she the new Mason Noise? Do I know her cousin, Pushi Arzole?
In the VT, Lauren goes to Essex and splits her time evenly between taking selfies and yelling vowels.
Oh god, that was fully terrible. It sounded bad, like the sort of thing you hear packs of blootered men yelling on those Boozed Up Britons Abroad documentaries. But it looked worse because Cheryl climbed up onstage and started wobbling about like someone’s dreadful nanna at a wedding reception. I still want them to win, though.
This is the song that the public wanted Reggie N Bollie to perform. It sounds like every Zumba class your auntie ever went to. Who knew? But it has a dance routine and no discernible tune, so at least it’s slap-bang in the middle of their wheelhouse.
We’re back. And oh thank god, it’s Reggie N Bollie. I don’t know about you, but I can’t wait to see which three song they mangle into an upbeat yet totally indistinct jumble of noises this week.
This week in the VT, Reggie N Bollie have to painstakingly describe the song they’re going to perform because the X Factor audience is now officially so old that people literally try to sell vinyl records to them in the adverts.
And now an advert for actual vinyl records. By the end of the evening, I fully anticipate watching an advert for ergonomic arthritis cutlery.
Adverts now, including an ad for a Ministry of Sound Big Band compilation album. This world is a disease.
Cheryl just got chippy with Simon, because Simon said something mean about the public and Cheryl thinks the public is always right. One day Cheryl is going to discover Twitter and it’s going to break her bloody heart.
The judges are all praising the group, while they stand there soaking it up covered in metallic confetti like a bunch of psoriasis-addled robots.
Also, there’s a high note in this song, and one of 4th Impact went for it, but missed by several thousand light years and ended up making a noise like a mouse being forced through a keyhole. In summary: NOPE.
Unfortunately none of 4th Impact can pronounce the word ‘You’ properly, which makes the whole song sound as if it’s being performed directly to a man named Hugh.
4th Impact are singing I’ll Be There by The Jacksons, because the X Factor audience historically loves it when they perform high-energy bangers and this is… oh.
Time for 4th Impact now, ready to shout a pop song in a way that seemed quite impressive a month ago but now just seems quite annoying. Two songs tonight, too. Lucky old us, eh?
In the VT, 4th Impact appear on Nick Grimshaw’s radio show and then meet Fleur East and then get eaten by the X Factor machine so totally that their remains have to be identified by dental records alone.
“Nobody wants this more than Louisa” says Rita Ora, before remembering that Louisa isn’t her only act left on the show, and mumbling something about Lauren. Well done, Rita. Well done.
Cheryl tells Louisa that she ‘prefers her in this realm’. I don’t know what realm that is. Realm Of Mid-Decapitation Oxen, possibly.
I’m not sure this working, to be honest. Despite literally being about having a wank, it’s quite instrumentally subtle. Louisa, though, isn’t having any of that. She’s yelling the lyrics in exactly the way that you’d yell at passing traffic if a murderer had just chased you out of the woods. I’m not having that.
The public has decided that Louisa – tonight dressed as David Lee Roth – should sing Love Yourself by Justin Bieber, because all X Factor viewers like the idea of watching a 17-year-old girl sing a song about masturbation. Basically, if you’re watching X Factor right now, expect a call from Operation Yewtree any minute.
Louisa Johnson is first. Last week she won praise by singing at the back of the studio. Where will she perform this week? In the basement? On the roof? Hiding out the back, in the bins, with a banana skin on her head? Is that it? Will Louisa sing in a bin with a banana on her head? Good.
In the VT, Louisa invites a friend around, eats one piece of popcorn, takes a selfie and then boots her friend out. Fame has changed her.
Simon is talking, but I’m not paying attention. There are two men in the studio audience who already look absolutely bored out of their skulls. The show has been on for four minutes. I know how they feel.
Let’s meet the judges, shall we?
NICK: Possibly wearing tights.
RITA: Definitely not wearing a bra.
CHERYL: Wearing whatever your 12-year-old nephew wore to his first school disco.
SIMON: Chewing gum like a reprobate.
OK, let’s go. Flack and Blardigan walk out onstage. Blardigan points at his penis twelve times and then swings his fist around like a drunk sailor in a pub.
TERNOIGHT! It’s Jukebox night, where someone obnoxious presumably walks into the studio with a pile of 50p coins and makes everyone sing Paranoid Android 25 times in a row.
LARST WEEKOND! Everyone was terrible and nobody had any fun. Also, Mason Noise went home. THE END.
IT’S TIME! TO FACE! THE RECAPS!
My goals for this evening, incidentally, mainly involve not having an ugly breakdown on the scale that I had here last weekend. Wish me luck, everyone!
Before X Factor starts, I’m watching Strictly Come Dancing. OBSERVATION: when the judges praise a contestant for acting out the emotion of their routine, it’s always because the contestant has pulled a face like they’ve accidentally wet themselves in a restaurant.
Hello plucky stragglers, and welcome to the X Factor liveblog. We’re down to the last five acts now; the cream of the crop, the toppermost of the poppermost, the best, the brightest and the most charismatic. And yet, aside from Reggie N Bollie, I can’t remember what any of them are called. X Factor!
Tonight is X Factor Jukebox night, where you – yes, you* – get to pick which songs the acts perform. That’s exciting, isn’t it? What if I told you that I’m pretty sure everyone’s going to sing twice tonight? That’s also exciting, isn’t it? No? What if I told you that Blardigan might mangle the word ‘eliminated’ so badly that his jaw might literally dislocate? Anything? No?
Oh, fine, look, whatever. X Factor starts at 8pm. I’m here if you need me.
*Well, not you specifically. The people who chose the songs were the people who, after Sunday’s result show, didn’t immediately go and spend three hours staring at their own reflection and mouthing the word ‘Why?’ over and over again. So barely anyone, then.
