MC Nomates

There was no Cheryl Cole, Louis Walsh or Saint Simon pontificating over whether to allow some poor soul to make the trip halfway across the world only to send them home again on the next plane.

There were about a dozen acts ranging from solo singers to groups. I prefer the old fashioned term of ‘group’ to the X Factor’s description of ‘band’.

A band in my eyes is made up of lots of musicians, usually with a brass section and a big drum. Add a tambourine and we have a Salvation Army band and God on our side. The tambourine is God’s favourite instrument. Add maracas and we have a Latin American band or Mick Jagger. ‘I’m gonna tell you how it’s gonna be, you’re gonna give your love to me-la la la la la’. Somebody once kicked my maracas when I was on stage so I smacked him on the head with my harmonica. We had a weapons stash of electric guitars and other instruments of pain on stage when I was in a band. How can the boy bands of today defend themselves when a fight breaks out if they have not even got any drumsticks?

By the way harmonica is different to ‘R Monica’. She was my cousin. Get it? Never mind, it’s a very old expression like ‘R kid’ who is my brother. Posh bands add a string section to become orchestras. X Factor ‘bands’ can have as few as two people, which to me is a duo? Am I being too pernickety here?

Some of the acts stood out. No they were not sent out of the room by the head master. Yes it is a childish joke but I’m too lazy to rub it out. They had Liam, a comedian who was very funny although I do think he might want to rewrite one of his jokes that referred to his wife and kids. I believe that at the tender age of 14 he should be spending more time doing homework and not making babies. His jokes were funnier than that one. Fourteen-year-old Rebecca shone like a star when she sang Somewhere Over The Rainbow with the voice of an angel.

She brought tears to my eyes. Ms Nomates can bring tears to my eyes but her technique is rather different and involves a certain level of gratuitous violence wrapped in a blanket of anger and delivered with the nice new boots I bought her. (They’re going back to the store.) A boy stole the show. You can’t trust kids today can you? They will pinch anything. He did something I have never seen a kid do before. He kissed his mother in public. These jokes are getting worse.

He performed something called MC-ing. It’s not my cup of tea but let’s face it a cup of tea is not my cup of tea. A pint of best bitter is my cup of tea. If you have never seen a kid MC-ing, it is as though he had swallowed a Scrabble set and then coughed words at the rate of a thousand a minute to a backbeat that will guarantee a migraine. It is a bit like rapping and I have to be honest, it was absolutely incredible. The place was rocking and everybody was up dancing. I was watching a rock god send his fans into a frenzy. The room was sweating and the lads were falling at the feet of the main man, MC Baker. (His stage name I guess) He should form a band. How about, MCs Butcher, Baker and Candlestickmaker?

He sought my advice and I was pleased to help. ‘If you want to be big in show business,’ I told him, ‘eat three pies before every show’. You’ll be massive in time. ‘But what about my performance?’ he asked. I told him candidly: ‘You were fabulous but would have done so much better with the girls if you had a fancy tambourine and a big pair of maracas, and I strongly suggest you try to rap somewhere over the rainbow’.

Readers who submit articles must agree to our terms of use. The content is the sole responsibility of the contributor and is unmoderated. But we will react if anything that breaks the rules comes to our attention. If you wish to complain about this article, contact us here