Beowulf presents.. THE X FACTOR DRINKING GAME

OK, here are the rules – you drink whenever you hear one of these clichés. Obviously, the aim of the game is to get drunk. I’ll leave it to you lot to figure out who wins. Or something.

Ready? Good.

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  • I/he/she/you/they have been on an ‘incredible journey’
  • I really ‘want/need’ this
  • ‘..PLEASE’, directed at ‘Sympathy Judge’ (Cheryl Cole, Paula Abdul, Sharon Osbourne et cetera)
  • The contestant is ‘kooky’
  • The contestant is not conventionally attractive, but (gasp) can sing! Step forward Paul Potts, Susan Boyle et cetera
  • The contestant is disabused of the notion that they are musically and vocally competent by the ‘Antipathy Judge’ (Simon Cowell)
  • ‘You’re wrong, Simon Cowell! You haven’t heard the last of me!’ (Come on, we don’t even hear about the people who win a year after the show finishes!)
  • It’s a split decisison (or too early in the series to boot out the mediocre..) give the deciding vote to the ‘Sympathy Judge!’
  • Contestant cries 
  • I’m doing this for my Grandad / teacher / cat et cetera..
  • ‘I just wanna make a better life for my kids’ (another way of saying this is ‘I want more money’)
  • Sympathy Judge cries
  • Simon Cowell looks offended by less than competent singing (cue rolling eyes!)
  • Audience cries
  • The contestant has personal tragedy..
  •  ..but is ‘stronger’
  • ‘Everyman Judge’ (Randy Jackson) makes blithe and less than insightful commentary about the contestant’s abilities, capped by the address ‘Dawg’
  • ‘Antipathy Judge’ and ‘Sympathy Judge’ fall out! (bonus points for dreary retread in the tabloids)
  • Simon Cowell cries (game over – EVERYONE wins!)
  • Gratutious hyperbole: ‘greatest night of my life’, ‘most amazing thing I’ve ever seen’ et cetera
  • Gratutitous ownage: ‘you made that song your own’, ‘you owned that song’, ‘the night was yours’ et cetera
  • Gratuitous disbelief: ‘I can’t believe I’m here’, ‘that was literally unbelievable’, et cetera
  • Gratutitous discussion of ‘potential’: ‘Tonight you looked like a star’, ‘you have the potential to be world class’.. ( yeah, right – see you in panto next year..)

In fact, screw it. Just get drunk and watch the the musically delusioned slog it out for the first few weeks and lose interest when the whole thing progresses to the blue-studio-clapalong phase..

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