The X Factor: The Final

Really, I should hate The X Factor even more than The Secret Millionaire. By definition, talent shows celebrate the extraordinary, planting the idea that to be entertaining is valuable while normalcy is failure. These programmes have spawned the disease which has infected countless young people: spotlightis. Victims grow up believing that fame is a panacea. Being snapped continually by paparazzi, walking comfortably down a red carpet, being as accustomed to the noise of screaming fans as most of us are to the sound of our breathing – these are their right. A normal life becomes a botched life, working hard for little recognition seems pointless, an existence without famous friends is futile. I was like this as a teen and sadly there’s still a part of the old addict that resurfaces every so often.

The X Factor final was trite, melodramatic, terrible television but over ten million of us watched Leon triumph deservedly and I’m sure even more of us will witness the next victory in 2008. Slag it off all you like; feel superior, tut and then switch on Dispatches – but the pantomime season is upon us and there are certainly worse ways to spend a Saturday night.