Soon, an Earworm Near You

What's everyone's opinion on this year's The X Factor? This is the first time I watch this show, and I'm completely hooked. I know it's trash and bad for my brain cells, but I can't help myself!

It's had its fair share of surprises, what with eye-candy boyband Futureproof being unfairly kicked out a few weeks ago, then no-hopers Hope beating my favourite, Beverley, last week, - not to mention the teenage girl disqualified for "happy slapping" someone.

The X Factor is really a cautionary tale about the music world, isn't it? The jugdes manage the feat of sounding more rude than the foulest-mouthed Big Brother contestant. It's no surprise that Girls Aloud fired Louis Walsh as their manager a few years ago. Last Saturday, Louis sent Dannii Minogue crying to theladiesloos after he called her a tuneless, hitless wonder in front of millions. Maybe he was bitter because Simon Cowell claimed earlier he'd had hair transplant. And those were just the mild bitchy comments.

This is what I think of the last four contestants:

Rhidian: The Riddler. I can see why everyone thinks he's going to win, but I personally can't stand his style of singing. Mixing opera and pop is just as wrong as, say, the Macarena. However, with his android looks and cold, rugby-player eyes, he'd be an impressive star if he were given covers of Gary Numan's "Cars" or Depeche Mode's "Master and Servant" to sing, for example. Those X Factor judges clearly know nothing about music.

Nikki: I hope she doesn't go back to working as a school kitchen matron when the contest is over. She'll never be a pop star, but she could make a decent living from singing in small events, cruise ships and casinos.

Same Difference: The 21st Century Carpenters. Or the poster kids for an as-yet-unreleased anti-depressant. Or the happiest Christians you'll ever meet. Or a cynical attempt by an underground religious sect to brainwash the country's children. Whatever they are, I'm so sure the brother is gay. He better keep his paws off...

Leon: If I was a pre-pubescent teeny bopper, I'd also spend my weekly allowance keeping him in the competition. My thumbs would be sore from all that late-night voting. Sharon Osbourne is right: he is soooo adorable. He neatly fits into my theory about Scottish men. Now that Beverley is gone, I want him to win.

Meat is Most Definitely Murder

Shaun Hutson, Erebus, 1984
In the small English village of Wakely, something terrible is happening to the livestock: they are growing disproportionaly large and attacking every creature in sight. Could it have something to do with the new feed provided by local creepy multinational Venderburg Chemicals? And shouldn't people stop eating meat since bizarre things are happening to the animals? Since this is a horror novel, you can guess the answer to those questions. Before you've reached page 10, you know all the vegetarians in town will be fighting for their lives in a matter of days.

What starts out as a great book to read if you wish to give up meat (in the tradition of Fast Food Nation and Upton Sinclair's The Jungle) soon turns into a bizarre amalgamation of right-wing nausea (the main protagonists complain about the latinos in New York and the immigrants in Britain over a romantic candle-lit dinner) with hardcore pornography (would you have sex in a bloody bathroom, with a hole in your shoulder and raving zombies surrounding your hotel? I didn't think so.) Sadly, I don't think Shaun Hutson means to be arch or satirical - everything is written as the equivalent of a Jackie Collins bonkbuster, with entrails substituting diamonds. By the end, you are left counting the cliches, the plot holes and the body bags, though I do have to say Hutson is a master of sickening gore description.