BAD TV: Does X Factor have the X Factor?

Like horrific car crashes, gruesome injuries on A&E TV and Hollyoaks, the X Factor is one of those things you just can't help but stare at in spite of its sheer painfulness. It seems to rely on a mixture of curiosity, disbelief, apathy and Simon Cowell's lawyers. What Prince Phillip-esque racism will Louis Walsh come out with next? Will Tulisa end up stabbing someone? When is Gary Barlow's face going to unhinge behind the ear revealing the tiny alien underneath who just wants to protect the galaxy?

"When I said we could rule the world... I meant it."

In a bid to solve the eternal puzzle behind the success of this reality TV goliath, I have vowed to watch X Factor so you don't have to. I will study each miserable rendition of Jeff Buckley's Hallelujah, I will wince every time someone calls it Alexandra Burke's Hallelujah, I will boo everything Louis Walsh says and throw things at the screen every time Nicole Scherzinger does her stupid soft understanding face.

"I'm just like you, except I'm made out of diamonds and kitten sneezes."

Essentially, I will carry on doing what I've been doing every Saturday night since 2004 (or sometimes Sunday morning on catchup with a hangover).

Luckily I think I've managed to skip most of the initial auditions, which is good because those people need no help in ridiculing themselves. In actual fact, it's sort of disgusting because some of them seem to have real mental health problems. It's like taking someone out of psychiatric care, building up their confidence by putting them through the several rounds of auditions required before one comes face to face with the judges, and then actively encouraging an audience of thousands to boo and jeer them back into their padded cell.

Anyway, let's take a look at what we've got coming up in the final auditions this weekend:

This lady is bad