So, the new series of X-Factor USA has started, and I caught the first auditions. As a brief aside, when will we tire of watching people that can't sing, sing? Seriously guys. It's been going on for a good few years now. Says a lot about us as a species. If a super-intelligent race of aliens are watching us as a sort of biological experiment, and they happen to have tuned into our broadcasts, what are they going to think? Thousands upon thousands of people calling a number to say who's the best singer... if we're turned to dust by some super-powered fusion cannon, I don't know if the galaxy will even shrug.
But anyway. Today I've seen a black transvestite sing, an old married couple sing, and one of the judges (the one who looks like that woman who does the weird Magnum adverts who thinks she's the Aztec sun goddess) throw up at the sight of a (probably homeless) man's penis. It's got the educational and entertainment value of repeated sticking pins into your own genitals, that show. God knows why it's broadcast. God knows why I watched it.
Also on my daily routine was a visit to Nando's, possibly the finest establishment ever built. Seriously. If those super-intelligent aliens came down and, in between rectal probings and mass neuterings, sampled the cuisine, they'd hold up Nando's as the finest of all human achievements. Just before they vapourised them all. And us. Had the usual. It's never good when you can order in a restaurant without looking at the menu. Either you're too posh, or too predictable. Although I think I may be both, in this case.
Finally, I saw a film. The Change-Up, it was called, starring the FBI agent from Paul, and someone who I think is Ryan Reynolds, but undoubtedly isn't. You know the kind of charming, good-looking, gurning idiot that appears in all modern comedy films as a kind of inspiration to useless tossers everywhere? Well that's him. Except he's not here. Oh no.
I genuinely enjoyed this film. It's a sort of modern-day Freaky Friday-type bodyswap thing with a twist: an uptight lawyer with marital issues and twin babies swaps bodies with his lay-about, pot-smoking, womanising actor friend. Hilarity ensues, if only to break up the gratuitous boob-shots. But beyond the boobs, it's actually a good, fun, heart-warming film. (That is the first time I've described anything as heart-warming). After all, any film in which some messy, waste-of-space failed drama student manages to get a date with 13 from House can only be an inspiration to everyone. You too could get a date with a slammin' hottie. Although you can't. Because this is Hollywood-Land, where the impossible is everyday. And you live in Peckham, where... well, needless to say, you won't be dating Olivia Wilde any time soon. Why did you even think you would? Seriously...
But check it out. It's a good film, if a bit grim in parts in a kind of American Pie way, and has more to it than just pictures of bottoms and dirty puns. Which is more than I can say for some films... (Sex Pot: worst film I've ever sat all the way through).
So, yeah. That's about it. See you all next week, same time, same channel.
EDIT: I just Googled it... it was Ryan Reynolds.
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