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r_scribblesOh Susan Boyle, you have AMAZED AND ASTOUNDED US! It is literally, physically gobsmacking that a woman, over 30, who is tubby and has mad hair and eyebrows could possibly have any worth, any merit whatsoever in our society. When you opened your mouth and sang reasonably well you BLEW OUR MINDS, destroying all stereotypes we hold about what kind of person should be publicly seen doing something artistically competent, and what kind of person should only be wheeled out on the telly as a modern day freakshow... y'know, the stereotypes that shows like 'Britain's Got Talent' generally spend week after horrible week reinforcing.
When you stepped on stage the faces in the audience and judging panel said it all, and rightly so - what made a plain, older woman think you had the right to have your merits judged? You were not under 25, not under size 12, you hadn't waxed, bleached, moussed and ironed every hair on your person to perfection and you weren't plastered in so much make-up that you looked like you'd just lost a fight with Dame Barbara Cartland's ghost, so everybody naturally expected you to be worthless. I mean, that is what we're told day in, day out, isn't it? What gave you the temerity to stand in front of Piers Morgan, Amanda Holden and Simon Cowell to receive their glorious judgement? Let's really think about that panel there... Piers Morgan - a failed Tabloid editor with a pile of part-congealed cat sick where his soul should be; Amanda Holden - a woman who is only famous for courageously allowing not just Les Dennis but also Neil Morrissey within spitting distance of her sideways smile; and Simon Cowell - who apparently was once of some use as a music producer or something, but for the last decade or so has reinvented himself a the world's best paid pantomime villain, who sells himself as the new Oscar Wilde but in fact does nothing but come out with lame, obvious catty putdowns, like a bad Drag Queen trying to warm up a middle aged Hen Party. Less than that, actually - he's like a man who wanted to be be a Drag Queen but doesn't get enough work so has to do a day job at an office as an IT Support Technician, where he skulks behind his desk groaning, sneering and sniping every time somebody in the company with less technological knowhow than him asks him to do his bloody job. That's what he's like.
But you impressed those Gods Amongst Mortals! You sang a Musical Number rather well, and set their radiant faces to 'Patronising Pseudo Amazement'. Humbled. Humbled, that's what we were, having cast a million little sneering glances at our mates like background characters in Saved By The Bell whenever Screech came on and did something crazy, we are now queuing up on the youtubes to say how wonderful you are for showing us that women who don't look like Abi Fucking Titmuss are sometimes not shuffling, meaningless human detritus and are occasionally even worth celebrating.
But only if you step up in front of thousands of bitchfaced twats, TV Producers and the Unholy Trinity and turn their giggling into patronising applause through the medium of song.
And only if you go ahead with that makeover that I bet every Women's Magazine and Daytime TV Show is fighting over doing for you right now.
And we'll still all giggle about you being ugly, old and fat anyway.
Modern life is rubbish.
When you stepped on stage the faces in the audience and judging panel said it all, and rightly so - what made a plain, older woman think you had the right to have your merits judged? You were not under 25, not under size 12, you hadn't waxed, bleached, moussed and ironed every hair on your person to perfection and you weren't plastered in so much make-up that you looked like you'd just lost a fight with Dame Barbara Cartland's ghost, so everybody naturally expected you to be worthless. I mean, that is what we're told day in, day out, isn't it? What gave you the temerity to stand in front of Piers Morgan, Amanda Holden and Simon Cowell to receive their glorious judgement? Let's really think about that panel there... Piers Morgan - a failed Tabloid editor with a pile of part-congealed cat sick where his soul should be; Amanda Holden - a woman who is only famous for courageously allowing not just Les Dennis but also Neil Morrissey within spitting distance of her sideways smile; and Simon Cowell - who apparently was once of some use as a music producer or something, but for the last decade or so has reinvented himself a the world's best paid pantomime villain, who sells himself as the new Oscar Wilde but in fact does nothing but come out with lame, obvious catty putdowns, like a bad Drag Queen trying to warm up a middle aged Hen Party. Less than that, actually - he's like a man who wanted to be be a Drag Queen but doesn't get enough work so has to do a day job at an office as an IT Support Technician, where he skulks behind his desk groaning, sneering and sniping every time somebody in the company with less technological knowhow than him asks him to do his bloody job. That's what he's like.
But you impressed those Gods Amongst Mortals! You sang a Musical Number rather well, and set their radiant faces to 'Patronising Pseudo Amazement'. Humbled. Humbled, that's what we were, having cast a million little sneering glances at our mates like background characters in Saved By The Bell whenever Screech came on and did something crazy, we are now queuing up on the youtubes to say how wonderful you are for showing us that women who don't look like Abi Fucking Titmuss are sometimes not shuffling, meaningless human detritus and are occasionally even worth celebrating.
But only if you step up in front of thousands of bitchfaced twats, TV Producers and the Unholy Trinity and turn their giggling into patronising applause through the medium of song.
And only if you go ahead with that makeover that I bet every Women's Magazine and Daytime TV Show is fighting over doing for you right now.
And we'll still all giggle about you being ugly, old and fat anyway.
Modern life is rubbish.
