But last night X factor took a giant leap into the realm of the imagination. It shredded the divide between reality and fictive psycho-drama. We all caught a whiff of the heady acrid bouquet of modern life except this felt like the modern world where Elizabeth Linley was yearning to escape when Gainsborough painted her as one with her beloved west country landscape. The houselights dim - Look there It's Frankie cock-o-the-town out on the prowl so lock up your daughters (or at least the ones Pete Doherty has left behind) and what's this? See yonder as the spotlight scorches through the back drop and reveals wicked Micha taunting the poor poor souls wracked with a level of self doubt she will never knoweth by dint of her nightly baths in the blood of castrati backing singers. Our torch bearers are the gods themselves sat atop mount Olympus selflessly shining a light into their own internal struggles. Hoping to somehow marry a selfless pursuit of those unfathomable essences that made them what they are with the need to reveal the putrid follies of human desire if left unchecked. So it seems the one genuine pop star on the program is to be cast as the wicked step sister and then perhaps to be redeemed as Cinderella once she has seen the error of her ways.
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