Generation X

Last week saw the return of The X Factor. I thought, No, it's not happening for me this year, I'm sick of it. Last autumn, the programme ate itself: the whole Cher, Katie Waissel, Simon/Cheryl stuff was too contrived, too manipulative and, while I admit I did tune in each week to witness the circus unfold, I kind of hated myself for it. So, this time, I'm opting out. I know it's wrong. I know it's hideous exploitative nonsense. I know it breeds everything you might say is wrong with celebrity culture: instant gratification, too much too young, the glare of the spotlight taking its toll on people ill-equipped to deal with the repercussions, etc. etc. And yet, I confess . . . I watched the first episode of X Factor 2011.

I felt sick with adrenalin. The first three minutes were like some sort of panic attack, complete with flashing lights and helicopters and snapshots of hopefuls by turns weeping and elated, all to a soundtrack of judges' verdicts, dreams built and shattered, and what sounded like doors slamming - or portcullises, or dungeon trapdoors. And *that* voiceover, which is just . . . dangerous. No one should have to deliver that level of frenzy, no matter how much Simon Cowell asks for it.

The first contestant was a guy from Brighton whose side parting began at his ear. He had the names of all the women he'd sh*gged tattooed on his arse, which for some inexplicable reason went down a treat with Kelly Rowland. Did someone say something about independent women? Must have misheard. And that set the tone, really - this show was going to p!ss me off right up until Christmas (and that's, what, sixteen weeks?), but, even so, still I kept watching . . . because that's what it achieves. It gets a reaction. It makes us want more. And we can slag it off as much as we want but the fact remains we're still slagging it off. We're still tuning in.

Aside from the fact that if a girl had come on with all the names of her conquests scrawled across her arse the reaction on the judges' panel might have been different, I do like the new line-up. Maybe I'll use curiosity as my excuse: I wanted to see what they were like and then, like a helpless fish with a hook in its cheek, I got reeled right in. Kelly comes across as a genuinely nice woman, Tulisa is awesome as far as I am concerned (don't care what people say about N-Dubz), Gary's sexy and gets to the point, and Louis is like the stabilisers on a new bike. Somehow, it works. I like their chemistry. I think some of the people they've put through so far are great. And I loved it when Tulisa had that slanging match with the guy who called her a dog.

Episode 2 was on Saturday night. I missed it and thought, Oh well, I missed it! Never mind - I have a life, which is always good . . . But then I watched it on catch-up on Sunday afternoon. I couldn't help it. I don't know what it is. Perhaps it's not wanting to be out of the loop. Perhaps it's genuine fascination with these people and wanting to see how they do. Perhaps it's just because I want to hold my arms in the air in a massive X shape and sing 'da-da-da-da-da-daaaah!' from my sofa. It's very confusing. 

But, it's back. And, for this season at least, so am I. Next year, it will be different.