Oh go on then – since everyone’s talking about it, I might as well join in.

So, did anyone manage to pick up last night’s edition of the London Lite? The cover said in big bold letters, “You don’t need to sing, to win [£10,000]”. How fitting! Err I mean, How ironic! What a sneaky play on words to add to the hype of the Jedward craze that’s circulating the media at the moment.

The trouble with No Factor is the sheer hype of the show’s expectations. Everyone is getting into such a flap about this person singing better than that, or this girl being in the bottom two, la la la… but looking back on this and the previous series’ – is it worth it? Were there really any productive spawns from these shows? Really? With the arrival of Leona though, the only winner in my opinion to truly have the “X” factor with an octave range on par with the greats and an attitude so humble it leaves me in awe, I honestly thought the show was turning around and really making respectable dreams come true. And now this. The people get so passionate about these contestants, and there’s no denying they possess some form talent – I use ’some’ loosely here – but they aren’t exactly moving musical mountains. How can they not sound like they are doing karaoke versions when they are singing other people’s songs, which the judges fail to remember time and time again (I hate it when they accuse them of that)? When you compete mediocre talent with mediocre talent, there is only going to be one mediocre result. No wonder this society fights tooth and nail for real inspiration.

Taking a brief glance back at previous winners of such shows – and I mean brief, because being reminded of the horrors that they called “winners” are eye rolling enough – like X Factor, Pop Idol and Pop Stars: The Rivals, there were few contestants worth noting. Whatever happened to Shayne Ward, Leon Jackson, Michelle McManus and the first X Factorer, Steve Brookstein, who I consequently sold some cards and wrapping paper to while I was still working in retail? Where have these actual winners disappeared to, who worked so desperately hard to stay in all 20 odd episodes of the series, who blubbered week after week saying, “This is my dream”, that the public deemed worthy of their votes? Did they wake up then? It’s a sad realisation knowing that the media and its celebrities are making money, as well as a mockery, of real people chasing real dreams.

One thing is guaranteed of these shows nevertheless, the entrapment. We are all reeled in, along with the publicity and money to make more of these abysmal programmes again next year, to bring us yet another bunch of “talents” searching for the same dream. And again, we will fall into the trap of refusing to watch, but giving in to temptation. True to form, I as another admittedly consumerism-driven citizen have also been sucked in to the weekend’s prime time display of judges talking over the crowd cheers (why!? We obviously can’t hear what they are saying), the dress-wars between Cheryl and Dannii, and desperate deer-in-headlights performances. The appeal of shrieking “What!?”s and “No way!”s at the TV is far too hard to compete with. Alas, the flap has gotten the best of me too.