Britain’s Got Talent 2011: The Final by shoutingatco.ws

This is a guest post by Patrick, who usually dumps his words here

Let us sit back and enjoy the event which will conclusively prove that Britain doesn’t have any talent whatsoever…

We start off with Ant and Dec being introduced to the CRAZY crowd by professional voiceover man and dickwad Peter Dickson. Surprisingly, Amanda Holden looks nice, but unsurprisingly she’s seemingly incapable of conveying any emotion in her rigid face whatsoever. The judges are seated – there’s a bit of oi oi banta to fill the time, and now we get to it. Act #1…

STEVEN HALL – I mean….I’m sorry. What? WHAT is this?! Is this it? The sum total of this nations talent? And there was me thinking that the mentally ill folk were quarantined at the audition phase and weren’t allowed to go any further/out of the house. But here is Steven Hall, an elderly man in a shirt and tie who really should know better than to gyrate badly along to a short and snappy medley of songs. The songs dont flow either. It is a shambles, albeit a strangely amusing one. And to compound the madness of it all, Steven has lost his voice. Only on ITV, only in Simon Cowell’s bizarre world.

MICHAEL COLLINGS – Next up is a fat lad called Michael who’s armed with a voice and a guitar. He’s a bit of a Damien Rice rip-off, but he’s good. He has talent, a nice song and seems like a decent lad. So naturally he won’t win.

LES GIBSON – Les Gibson is an impressionist… allegedly. He opens with a godawful impression of Masterchef host and angry egg Gregg Wallace, before a version of Simon Cowell which sounds nothing like the bastard at all. This is woeful, what’s going on? After the awful start, Les redeems himself slightly with his David Hasselhoff, but it’s too late. It’s too, too late. The judges give him a bit of a kicking which is well deserved. Next.

JAMES HOBLEY – After the disappointment of Les, we’ve moved on to an albino looking lad with a shit haircut. He looks like an absolute dick, the kind of brat you want to give a swift smack to when their parents aren’t looking. James is dancing gymnastically along to a Coldplay record. Don’t ask me which one, they all sound the same. James is talented, and is my favourite to win based on what I’ve seen so far.

PAUL GBEGBAJE – Here comes Paul Gbe…Gbegb….here comes Paul, with his minimalist style of piano playing. He seems like a nice guy, so it’s unfair for Anton to keep on calling him a pianist, in my opinion. The judges say “well done” to Paul, and it’s all very nice and pleasant and…well, boring. Next!

RONAN PARKE – If you’re an Internet nerd like I am, you’ll probably know Ronan Parke’s name based on a scurrilous rumour that was spread around via Twitter last week. The idea of Simon Cowell manipulating people and influencing public opinion is just bonkers. Never happen. What can we say about Ronan? Worryingly, he’s a British version of Da Biebs, that little American scrotum who is continually infecting our ears. Ronan finishes his song and gets a standing ovation from the judges. Funny, that. The ovation is followed by a jizz fest, which bizarrely includes a contribution from Louis Walsh in a pink shirt.

JEAN MARTYN – From a 12 year old boy who’s testicles haven’t dropped yet, to a lady who looks like she’s had a mid-life crisis or two in her life. It’s Jean Martyn, and she’s playing a keyboard along to “Making Your Mind Up” and other shit songs whilst gurning. I am convinced that Jean Martyn is a Peter Kay character. She seems to be having a good time, and good on her, but if she wins then I’ll strip naked and run around Coventry for an hour.

JAI MCDOWALL – Scottish singer Jai McDowall, a support worker with a rather tidy beard and moustache combo. Jai goes onto the stage and nails it – a pitch perfect operatic performance which showcases his impressive voice perfectly. How interesting then that at the end of the song, no judge stood and applauded him like they did with yer little lad a few acts before. It’s almost like they didn’t want him to win!

RAZY GOGONEA – Here comes Mr Matrix Man and professional Romanian person Razy. The latter part of the sentence means that he shouldn’t be in the final, or even in the competition itself. Sorry, but that’s how I feel – if any shite is going to win, it should be British shite. But to give him credit, Razy is not shite – he’s very good and clearly very talented at what he does. Perhaps he can use this energetic dancing to evade the deportation people when they come a-knocking.

NEW BOUNCE – The final act are cliché-tastic New Bounce, a group of four young boys who harmonise a bit, will be loved by girls and aren’t interesting in the slightest. Once you’ve seen one piss poor Jackson 5 rip-off, you don’t really want to tolerate another one. New Bounce are inoffensive, they’re alright, but nothing to write home about.

The Final Vote

Gosh, it’s tense! Rather cruelly, they’re not just telling you the winner, but instead running down the list from 10-1 to build tension and humiliate some people on their big night. “Haha Jean Martyn, you came tenth, you’re fucking SHIT!” and so on. The candidates get whittled down until we’re left with three – Ronan, Jai, and New Bounce. A nice diverse mix of…err…singers.

At long last it’s all over, and that’s just this review. Jai McDowall is the winner on stage, but as always, the winner just sitting off of it is Mr Cowell. Jai will get his fifteen minutes, but Ronan will be the superstar until his voice breaks.

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