Dejected newshounds the length and breadth of the UK, who have recently been somewhat starved of sensational material can take some consolation from the fact that the X-Factor will be hitting our TV screens this evening. (At 7:30 on the telly.)
And it promises to be bigger, better, and more crap than it's ever been before.
The X-Factor, which has brought us such luminaries as last year's winner, Joe McElderry (who has done fuck all since he won it, other than admit he's gay) and some other people whose names elude us (for obvious reasons) has been slated by critics recently for continually declining standards.
Dannii Minogue and Cheryl Cole's absences from early recordings (owing to pregnancy, malaria, and Ashley Cole respectively) certainly won't help to boost the show's profile.
But hey, we've still got Simon, and hopefully Louis Walsh, who in the last series proved he's not as bonkers as he was making out, as the Jedward lads went on to become the X-Factor's only real success story.
And we have a whole new crop of warblers to look forward to, giving us their renditions of old Meat Loaf, Queen and Cher numbers, usually sung extremely badly, but with attitude in spades.
With bad haircuts.
And worse clothes.
The X-Factor - if that doesn't kick-start the UK out of recession, nothing will.
On a telly near you at 7:30
More as we get it.
