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BoyleWatch: Weak Competition on Britain’s Got Talent
This past weekend was the fifth round of auditions for this year’s Britain’s Got Talent: so how’re Susan Boyle‘s odds at winning the title coming along? Pretty good from my standpoint. Perhaps this weekend’s biggest threat to the Boyle Supremacy is Greg Pritchard, a hotel waiter who looks like Pete Wentz but sounds like Tiny Tim doing his best Leontyne Price impression. He’s what they call a “male soprano,” and the three judges looked equally puzzled at his high-pitched mewling when he sang the opera standard, “Nessun Dorma.”
But the sad thing is…the judges actually liked him. “It’s like a dog meowing,” says Simon Cowell. “It just shouldn’t do that.” That was a compliment so you know. I’ve actually heard several dogs make noises like that, but they were being put to death at the time. Not good, and my co-worker noted he wasn’t even pronouncing the words.
To paraphrase Nina Garcia from Project Runway, sometimes, I question these judges’ “taste levels.” Take for instance, 17-year-old rugby player Shaun Smith, whose audition aired this weekend as well. Sure, he’s what the British lasses call “fit as f***,” but Dude can’t sing. Clearly, judges Piers Morgan, Amanda Holden, and Cowell saw dollar signs in his smoldering jock looks when he came out and “performed” the Bill Withers classic “Ain’t No Sunshine”. When Smith thankfully finished, imagine my surprise when I heard Simon muse that Smith was like Simply Red frontman Mick Hucknall “but good-looking.” If that’s 2009′s version of Mick Hucknall – one of the best blue-eyed soul singers of all-time – then man, how standards have fallen.
After watching the judges praise all of that meager talent, a man farting “The Blue Danube Waltz” is exactly what they deserved. (Performer Mr. Methane is self-styled “flatulist” extraordinaire.) I hope he ate a nice big curry beforehand just to make things even more unpleasant.
To clear the air, I offer the fresh scent of hot chocolate in the form of contestant Conrad Brisset, an impossibly chiseled male stripper with more talent in his quivering left buttock than all the three previous contestants combined. (Well, maybe not including Mr. Methane.)
Meanwhile, Susan Boyle didn’t snub President Obama‘s correspondents’ dinner over the weekend: she wasn’t allowed to attend per Britain’s Got Talent rules. I know the Radical Right was simply salivating to claim the “Hairy Angel” as one of their own, but she didn’t take the bait. Smart lady.
In other news: