Once again it's that time of the year when Britain's answer to 'The Walking Dead' begins series eleven, yes folks it's that clapped-out old chestnut, the 'Crap-Factor' the only show on earth to legally allow day release patients to run amok on live TV. This year's hopefuls are destined to be the best yet as sob sagas are being ramped up, padded cells unlocked, screaming divas reach air raid siren level during the auditions and Simone Cashcow opens yet another off shore bank account!
This year's judges include old faithful (with emphasis on the old) Louis Walsh, who is already praying to God that the reduction in contestants ages, from 16 down to 14, does not raise the suspicions of Operation Yewtree when he puts together his youngest ever boy band then whisks them off to his mansion for a bit of 'mentoring'.
Next up, is resident English language destroyer Cheryl Fernandez-Vaselini who, having recently married a worn out French gigolo, has only just discovered (on her wedding night) that Je suis impuissant has nothing whatsoever to do with toasted Croissants after all!
As a result of this shocking discovery she will be sitting behind the judge's desk, sans panties doing a Sharon Stone while dreaming of her ex-husband's magnificent erect schlong and having a few 'multiples' during the numerous commercial breaks.
Newcomer 'Big' Mel B fresh from her highly paid stint on America's Got Talent (AGT) will join the judges this year being famous of course for once pretending to sing with a bunch of long since forgotten and untalented screamers.
With her magnificent figure, notably her heaving mammaries and Kardashian size derriere Mel has quite an unofficial reputation as both ace sword swallower and breast relief artist and ITV cameramen have been briefed to hone in on Mel's cleavage throughout this series in order to attract male viewers and boost Kleenex tissue sales for Kimberly-Clark Inc.
It is hoped that there will be plenty of phoney friction between Cheryl and Mel in order to shore up the expected falling ratings once the live shows actually begin and viewer boredom sets in.
Rumour has it that Mel is already considering having a tattoo done to rival that of Cheryl's but to cover her entire arse, always assuming they can find enough ink suppliers.
Completing the judging panel, none other than the maestro 'herself' namely, Simone Cashcow, king of the chain smoking lounge lizards and supreme Svengali, master of the half dozen clichés which he practises over and over again from his South Pacific bolt-hole, all time insincere bastard and destroyer of quality music.
ITV bosses are praying that Simone does not drop another faux pas this year on live TV as was the case a few years ago whilst appearing as Judge on the American X-Factor.
At that time the hapless maestro was waxing lyrical about a Spanish/American singer, Jesus Xavier and uttered the immortal line, "Jesus, you nailed that 101%". Within minutes the US switchboards were jammed by irate and hostile American bible-belt fruit loops calling for his execution by way of dodgy lethal injection as TV ratings dropped faster than Monica Lewinsky's panties in the White House!!
Last but not least we come to the master of ceremonies himself, Dermot 'dandruff' O'Leary, that well named, well known pervert, a breast, bum and thigh aficionado and Simone's regular bum fluffer who likes nothing more than getting up close and too personal with the female contestants on the promise of 'putting in a good word' while frankly, putting one in the contestant so to speak!
So there you have it, if you want it, more quality TV from ITV, a station renowned for bringing the discerning British viewer night after night of cheap barrel scraping programming under the guise of entertainment…….."Beulah, pass me the remote and peel me a grape!"