Being the type of person who rather likes eating, food and anything that has ever had anything to do with a frying pan and hot oil, as well as being a fan of activities in which efficient people bring you endless plates of crispy, salty things that you equally as efficiently vault down your gob, one of my favourite pastimes is yum cha.
If you're not familiar with yum cha, it's basically the best Chinese invention since the compass. And the compass was only invented so Chinese people could find their way to the next yum cha restaurant, so that puts THAT in perspective.
Also known as dim sum, yum cha is a type of dining in which waiters push trolleys full of little baskets of food around and hassle you until you take some from them. Then they make a mark on a special piece of paper on your table - the more marks you accrue, the more likely you are to have a coronary after you leave.
You might think that the kind of event in which you are virtually force fed dumplings and beer until you burst has no down side. But you'd be wrong. There is one fatal flaw with the yum cha experience - you can't talk to anyone. (Of course, indulging in conversation does reduce the amount of dumplings you can eat rather dramatically, so it's up to you whether that's a problem or not.)
The reason you can't talk is not to do with the food, it's this:
"You want squid? Dumpling? Pork bun? You want pork bun? Hey, YOU WANT PORK BUN?"
If you've ever had to explain advanced computer programming to a parent of 13 children under three who have recently all been given a box of matches then you'll have some idea what trying to have a conversation at a yum cha restaurant is like.
The other day I went to yum cha with some friends I hadn't seen in ages for a "catch up". The conversation went something like this:
You'll never believe this but last week I got to meet FRIED BEAN CURD? And the most incredible part of the whole story was STEAMED PRAWN ROLLS? And then I worked out who murdered Mark - it was BARBECUE PORK BUNS?
After attempting a citizen's arrest on a plate of pork buns for homicide, I came up with the best idea in the history of ever - THE YUM CHA FLAG.
You want waiters to hassle you with dumplings? Flag up. You want to be left alone to eat and talk? Flag down. IT'S THAT SIMPLE, GUYS.
Now, if only someone would adopt the idea it could be the best Chinese invention since yum cha.
I've been working as a journalist for about five years, but what I've learned on the job is nothing compared to the reams of useful information you can glean from Hollywood.
Films like The Devil Wears Prada and Confessions of a Shopaholic are SO true to life I thought they were documentaries when I first saw them. I only twigged when I saw Meryl Streep, and even then I thought "Ooh, when did Meryl Streep become a magazine editor?"
And so I bring you the latest in my series of Practical Chick's Guides - the PCG to being a woman journalist, based on what I've learned from the movies.
1. Dress the part
Aspiring female journalists should always dress in the latest couture from all the top designers. If you don't, other journalists won't respect you. Make sure it is tight, short and sexy and ALWAYS wear stilettos - otherwise you will never be taken seriously. What do you mean you can't afford designer clothing? YOU'RE A REPORTER. Everyone knows they earn STACKS.
Looks on other journalists' faces when they do the mental arithmetic on your outfit = priceless.
If you're too busy working on your big scoop to go shopping don't worry - all fashion magazines have a giant wardrobe full of designer clothes that the fashion director will be more than happy to let you take home and wear. Even though they are sample sizes they will ALL fit you - even though everyone keeps saying how fat you are.
If you're not lucky enough to work for a fashion mag and are stuck say, working for a finance journal - never fear. There will always be a fashion magazine across the hallway with an editor who will happily take you out shopping and act as your personal stylist to get you sorted out.
"Yes, I am zee editor of ze world's biggest fashion magazine, but I have more zan enough time to help a cadet finance reporter go shopping. Now, try zis on."
2. Don't exert yourself
You only need to write one story every few months in order to impress your boss. Don't worry - there are heaps of other reporters around the office who will be happy to pick up the slack. And because journalism is such a laidback industry that doesn't revolve around deadlines, you'll have heaps of time to research it while also attending parties, meeting interesting people and expanding your wardrobe.
3. Reporting is like, easy!
If you get assigned to write a story on a topic you know nothing about, don't stress! Just hit the library with your best girl friend, borrow a few Idiot's Guide books and stay up all night studying them. And don't forget to Google! You'll soon become an expert, and will be ready to grill any politician/celebrity/big wig like a pro. You'll also most likely end up writing an award-winning article that boosts your ailing publication's circulation in an unprecedented way, thereby securing your future as a top notch journalist and saving the company from financial ruin. Way to go!
4. Male editors are both helpful and sexy
If you can't come up with any story ideas, don't worry - your young, good looking, male editor will give you one. And don't worry if you don't know how to write - he'll help you with that too. He'll also take you out to events and help you network and make contacts, and talk you through any tricky press conferences you're too inexperienced to handle on your own. Even though he's just hired you impetuously off the basis of your hotshot CV (which you impishly concocted minutes before the job interview) he won't be angry about any of this - he'll find your naivety charming, and will eventually fall in love with you.
"Now ask them this hard-hitting question I've just written for you. Go on. It's fine, Laurie Oakes does this all the time."
And despite you being a clueless ditz who flirts with the editor, only writes 500 words a month and gets all the praise, all the other journalists will love you - because you are pretty and charming.
5. Female editors are nasty bitches
Just like all male editors are young, handsome and flirtatious, all female editors are arrogant, rude, standoffish and eccentric, AND THEY HATE YOU AND EVERYTHING YOU STAND FOR. Unless you turn up one day wearing Chanel and perform an impossible task for them, like balancing a cup of Starbucks on your nose while singing the national anthem and organising Tom Cruise to read the latest instalment of Harry Potter to their children. Then they will treat your marginally better.
6. Never take your job for granted, no matter how shitty it is
Always remember - nothing is more important than your job. NOTHING. You are a WOMAN who works in the MEDIA. Do you even REALISE how many girls would KILL to be in your position? DON'T TAKE IT FOR GRANTED. Your job is more important than your BOYFRIEND, it's more important than ANY OF YOUR FAMILY, and it's certainly more important than your HEALTH. All of this is multiplied by 500 if you work for a fashion magazine.
7. Blog your way to success
If you are still trying to land a job as a journalist - start writing a blog. You will become instantly successful and be offered movie deals and career opportunities within 12 months.
I really like Kelly Clarkson's new song Already Gone. But I liked it better when Beyonce did it and called it Halo.
Of course, the only thing one can do in these situations is to combine the two into one all-powerful SUPERSONG, capable of destroying everything in its path:
Well, people - I've got my limited edition Guy Sebastian Idol mug at the ready, my limited edition Daniel Mifsud Idol scarf round my neck and my limited edition Lisa Mitchell Idol ballet flats on my feet, and I'M READY TO LIVEBLOG.
Raoul and I here in Idol HQ will be running a live commentary on this glittering night of nights, and updating this entry every few minutes. All you have to do is keep refreshing this page! Let's just pray to the server gods that I won't exceed my bandwidth, or anything boring like that.
So as the clock ticks down, and Ruby Rose and her tattoos attempt to do something entertaining for once on the Your Generation Xmas special, we wait...
7.34pm: And wait...
7.35pm: Good, everything appears to be working so far. ISN'T LIVEBLOGGING FUN?
7.37pm: Ooh goody, it's started - with the obligatory montage of Stan and Hayley, our illustrious final two, as well as a montage of past Idol finalists you seriously can't remember. SOON, FOOTAGE OF ONE OF THESE PEOPLE WILL BE ADDED TO THAT MONTAGE FOR NEXT YEAR.
7.39pm: Next up - a performance from the choir of teens not good enough to make it into the top 100. Give them a hand!
7.40pm: Now a bunch of random audience members has stormed the stage! SECURITY, STOP THEM! Oh wait, it's the other finalists. You know, the ones you decided you didn't like weeks ago. So sit back and enjoy this performance by singers the whole country said they didn't like.
7.41pm: COUSIN IT CAN PLAY GUITAR! This is a real win for the Addams Family. Maybe they could start a band? The Partridge family did it.
7.42pm: Petstarr - "This song is terrible." Raoul: "This SHOW is terrible."
7.43pm: "This is major pants," says Raoul, before launching into a verion of "This is ground control to major pants...". Speaking of which, I'm rather impressed that Hayley has come dressed as David Bowie tonight. SALUTE YOUR ROCK ELDERS.
7.44pm: Meanwhile, Stan has come as a FULL ON NEW ZEALANDER. "Oh moy gourd thus us wucked men!"
7.45pm: OH MY GOD MARCIA WHAT THE HELL?
7.46pm: OK, now I've composed myself slightly I THINK I can work out what happened to Marcia's outfit - she was rushing to the Opera House from a bit of late Sunday shopping at Bunnings when she accidentally fell over an errant broomstick in the string aisle, and got caught up in a roll of twine. That can be the only explanation.
7.48pm: Hmm. I'm not going to be able to put up any photos tonight, am I? Bugger.
7.49pm: I might take this adbreak as an opportunity to say - if you're sitting here pressing F5, please leave me comments! I'd like to think I'm not all alone here. Also - if you can come up with a better explanation for Marcia's outfit, I'd like to hear it.
7.51pm: Michael Buble takes out his little book of Swing King Cliches, turns to chapter 11 - "Old school swing songs that 'the kids' still seem to love" and starts singing Feeling Good. It should be pointed out that he is LOOKING good, however. Mmm, Buble.
7.52pm: And here comes Hayley to ruin it even more. Sigh. Fortunately I am distracted by the glare from the shine on her bowling shoes which she has specially rented for the night.
7.54pm: Apparently it's a heatwave in Sydney right now. To this I say SUCKED IN. Now, where's my beanie and mug of hot tea? Mmm that's better.
7.56pm: "VOTE CLOSE COUNTDOWN - 73 million hours". At least, that's how I read it.
7.57pm: Another ad break. Didn't we have the last one about 32 seconds ago? This is going to be a long night. In other news - thanks for the comments! They are bolstering my spirits. I feel like a digger in the trenches receiving telegrams from home. OK, so it's not quite that bad - but Hayley hasn't sung her single yet so, you know..
8.00pm: OMG KYLE CAN SING NOW? Oh wait, that's Wes Carr.
8.01pm: OK... Wes Carr is singing Beat It...
8.02pm: With Ian Moss.
8.03pm:
"Oh Wes, why did you have to sully my memory?"
8.04pm: "There's one Carr I'd be happy to trade in," quips Raoul, who has recently taken to dad jokes.
8.05pm: OK, I will admit that that performance really wasn't that bad. And not just because Wes Carr is a fellow South Aussie. But honestly Wes - THE HAT? ISN'T IT TIME TO LOSE THE HAT?
8.06pm: Time for some Where's Wally with Ricki Lee in the crowd. Fortunately, the kids have made a small ring around her - or maybe she's just forgotten to wear her Rexona tonight.
"Rip her top off!" shrieks Raoul.
8.07pm: "Let's take a look at your final two and how they've made it here to the grand final!" says Ricki Lee. Oh good, yes, let's have ANOTHER FUCKING MONTAGE.
8.08pm: Oh god... Sabrina is singing When Love Takes Over again. OH GOD NO, NOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!
8.09pm: WHO TOLD THESE GIRLS THEY COULD SING THIS SONG? WHO? I WANT NAMES!
8.10pm: Kate the cowgirl comes on in her trademark hat and ill fitting jeans with a dance beat backing - the overall effect is like New Year's Eve at the Gol Gol Pub.
8.10pm: Some girl I have never seen before in my life wanders on in a satin bedsheet and leather gloves, looking like an extra from Labyrinth, and starts yelling "OVER, OVER OVER!" at the audience. Yes, we wish it were OVER too.
8.11pm: "VOTE CLOSE COUNTDOWN: 32.57". Can we vote that this thing finishes at 8.30pm?
8.12pm: I might as well admit right about now that I've had Stan's little black box in my head all week. NOT IN THAT WAY, YOU DIRTY PERVERTS. The song, obviously. Aren't you just DYING to see the video clip for that? It's reason enough to vote him in as the winner.
8.16pm: While we're in a completely boring adbreak - I'll give a shout out to Raoul, who has just made the most delicious coconut jelly dessert for me! Aww. He's not always shouty and rude, sometimes he's decidedly metro.
8.17pm: Let's take a look back at all the crappy guest judges they've had this year - Suzi Quatro, aka your crazy auntie; Liza Minnelli, aka your crazy great auntie; Ross Wilson, aka the guy we roped in early before we knew who we could get that was any better. Remember when they had Pink? And Britney Spears? No, neither can I.
8.19pm: OMG BRUNO HAS TOTALLY PUNK'D THE IDOL STAGE! YES! GO BRUNO! I hoe he shows his kugelsack.
8.20pm: I am LOVING Bruno's awesome embroidered belt. Very now. I totally didn't know he could sing!
8.21pm: Actually he can't.
8.21pm: Er, IS that Bruno?
8.21pm: Right, so it's Mika. Apart from his embroidered belt, and his foppish hairdo, and the fact that his drummer seems to have an exotic sort of fungus growing on her shoulders, this is completely underwhelming. I liked him better when he was Bruno.
8.22pm: I'm not sure what's prompted it (perhaps the belt) but the audience has revolted. "WE ARE NOT WHAT YOU THINK WE ARE!" they shout angrily, waving their fists in the air. Unfortunately, any hopes of this protest group forcing Mika off stage are dashed when he launches into another song. Sigh.
8.24pm: So I'm guessing we're not going to see anyone's kugelsack, then. Unless Kate gets another performance.
8.25pm: "How good was that?" yells Ken Doll.
...
8.26pm: Ken Doll announces tonight's show is brought to us courtesy of the government's national anti-binge drinking campaign. Which is a pity, as binge drinking would seem to be the only way to survive this catastrophe.
8.30pm: So, are there ANY blokes in the live audience tonight?
8.32pm: OMG RICKI LEE IS SINGING THE DEODORANT AD LIVE!
8.33pm: Ricki Lee has borrowed Adele's satin dress from before to dress up a four poster bed for this act, which she awkwardly climbs off with the help of two backing singers. She had three, but I think she got hungry backstage.
8.33pm: I think we should all declare Idol 2009 "The Year of the Thigh".
8.34pm: Ricki Lee attempts some stripper dancing, but ends up looking like she just wants to go to the toilet.
8.35pm: Toilet dancing and thighs aside, I love Ricki Lee. What a champ. TAKE THAT, BRITNEY LIP SYNCHING SPEARS.
8.36pm: And then there was foreboob. Sigh.
8.37pm: Time for an Ed Hardy fashion parade, courtesy of the male finalists and Snore Patrol.
8.38pm: WELCOME BACK TIM. HEART.
8.38pm: I am so disappointed Scott Shark Eyes has neglected to put his tattoo sleeve on tonight. He does, however, appear to be wearing a costume tail. OK.
8.39pm: Speaking of disappointment - I am most upset that Gaythan hasn't turned out in sequins and feathers like I'd hoped. Actually, where is Gaythan? Has anyone even seen him? Has he chucked a strop for not getting into the top two and decided to hide in the back somewhere?
8.41pm: Bunch of blokes in black vinyl run around singing song you've never heard of. That's basically what that last three minutes was.
8.43pm: Comment of the night so far from Anonymous: "Didn't Toby quit? Usually if u quit a job u dont get invited back for the Xmas party!"
8.43pm: Speaking of Christmas parties, if only the Idol one was like this:
That would obviously be Sabrina in the purple dress.
8.46pm: Ken Doll: "Voting lines have closed. But we're going to continue dragging this bitch out for hours yet with performances by people you would normally cross the street to avoid."
8.47pm: The original and best Idol Guy Sebastian has borrowed Usher's entire vibe and Wes Carr's hat for his performance with Jordin Sparks. Jordin is having an AWESOME time, because she's not there. They're just showing the bits of her from the video clip. This is rather like advertising that Arnold Schwarzenegger is coming to your birthday party, and then playing a DVD of The Terminator to your guests.
8.51pm: CHECK OUT GUY'S GUNS. I swear, they never fail to impress me.
8.51pm: Apparently Jordin couldn't come because she had appendicitis. I think it's more likely that she saw a tape of the 2008 Idol finale and thought "Fuck that".
8.54pm: So. How's everyone doing? Everyone got enough to eat? Drink? NO BINGE DRINKING ALLOWED - the government says so. Sort of puts the mockers on my Idol drinking game, where you get to slug a shot every time Stan says "ay".
8.55pm: Also, you need to drink every time Ricki Lee mentions "wetness" or "odour".
8.57pm: "I love this job because I turn up to work every day and I never know quite what to expect," says Ken Doll cryptically, as the lights dim and ominous strings strike up. The crowd starts screaming - ARE THEY GOING TO SHOOT THEM ALL? THAT would be great television.
8.58pm: As it turns out it's NOT a mass killing, it's just Michael Buble singing again. So, you know, kind of the same thing. ZING!
8.59pm: Fireworks, brass, crooning and a tux - this performance could only be bettered if they concluded it by firing Liza Minnelli out of a cannon. DO YOU THINK THEY WILL? Surely that's within the budget?
9.01pm: New comment of the night from Anonymous: "Don't let a night out turn into a nightmare = don't let sabrina sing when love takes over - again."
9.02pm: In a moment of clarity as yet unmatched on tonight's show, Michael Buble sums up the entire thing in five words - "It doesn't matter tonight, really."
ALL HEED THE WORD OF THE MIGHTY BUBLE.
9.07pm: A pair of ripped acid wash jeans walks onto the stage accompanied by Hayley Warner and her hunch.
9.08pm: "Whatever happens from this point on is a career turn," says Hayley.
"I was famous once. Would you like fries with that?"
9.10pm: It's been a least 10 minutes since our last montage, let's have another one. COULD THERE POSSIBLY BE ANY MORE FOOTAGE THAT WE HAVEN'T ALREADY SEEN? Until they show hidden camera footage of Hayley snorting coke off a half-naked Chippendale in the back of a panel van, I'm not interested in any more montages, thank you.
9.12pm: For the drinking game - make sure you have a shot any time someone says the word "journey" or "dream".
You in the morning.
9.15pm: Hayley sings Pink. Again. Mika stands backstage going "Yeah, but does she have an embroidered belt?"
9.16pm: Dicko, Marcia and Jay Dee say something from wherever they are which, by the looks of it, is hovering above the stage somewhere.
9.17pm: BC Commenter Little Faerie Girl is right - "national binge drinking campaign" DOES rather sound like an INVITATION, rather than a call to arms. PASS ME THE TEQUILA, IT'S A CELEBRATION!
9.18pm: It's about this point that I realise you lot over in the eastern states already know who the winner is. That rather takes the wind out of my sails.
9.20pm: BC pageloads hit 1066! YOU LOVE ME, YOU REALLY LOVE ME! (Does this mean I'VE won Idol?)
9.22pm: "I'm so blessed, ay," says Stan. DRINK!
9.23pm: "Thanks to everyone who voted for me, ay," says Stan. DRINK!
9.25pm: The best part of Stan's montage is the part where we learn he used to be Michael Jackson circa 1979.
9.26pm: Stan might have lost his job at that shopping mall, but it's good to see he's already got a backup plan if he doesn't win tonight:
Liza Minnelli has already signed up to the customer rewards program.
9.27pm: Stan looks through the catalogue of all the awesome songs he's sung on the show so far, ignore Purple Rain, Nothing Else Matters and Single Ladies, and goes with It's a Man's World.
9.29pm: If Stan doesn't win tonight, I'm going to eat Wes Carr's hat.
9.30pm: NEW DRINKING GAME CATEGORY - drink every time Stan mentions god. Start by skulling a pint of vodka to catch up.
9.30pm: The judging gods speak from the rafters again. Are the ghosts of Kyle and Holden up there too?
9.31pm: "You think it's awesome now? Wait until after the break," says Ken Doll to Stan. Er... did he just let the cat out of the bag?
9.33pm: WHY DID I LOOK AT MY TWITTER FEED JUST THEN? ARGH. THANKS FOR RUINING IT, LOSER.
9.34pm: Thanks to the Twitterverse for ruining any joy I might have taken from being surprised by the winner's announcement. I shall, however, trudge on regardless.
9.36pm: LIZA MINNELLI! DRINK!
9.36pm: Actually, drink AND take some pills. Any pills, it doesn't matter anymore.
9.37pm: KEYBOARDS, DRUMS, SYNTH - BRING IT ON!! IT'S THE FINAL ANNOUNCEMENT!! (do you like how I'm drumming up excitement here even though I already know who's won?)
9.38pm: IT'S ALL OVER - DRINK WHATEVER YOU'VE GOT LEFT....
9.39pm: AND THE WINNER IS...
9.39pm: STAN!
9.39pn: It's about this time that I'd like to remind you all of THIS, predicted by me approximately 37 years ago:
I WAS RIGHT, RIGHT I TELL YOU!
9.39pm: "I just want to thank god man, praise god, ay," says Stan. That means you drink three times. If you haven't already passed out.
9.40pm: Stan's extended family, which comprises about 37% of the audience, spontaneously breaks into a haka. This is possibly the best performance of the night.
9.41pm: Say, have you heard the one about Stan's little black box? WELL HERE IT IS AGAIN, FOR THE 53RD TIME TONIGHT.
9.43pm: I can't believe I've only just noticed that Stan is wearing a vest. THAT should be the title of his new single - "There's a little black vest, somewhere in my wardrobe, and I can't sing without it..."
9.44pm: "Farkin' hell, he'd be praising Jesus up the arse tonight," splurts Raoul, who has just wandered in for the first time in over an hour. THANKS FOR THE HELP TONIGHT, RAOUL.
9.45pm: Everyone says thankyou about a million times, leading me to include a late addition to the Idol drinking game rules - drink every time someone thanks someone. The show's over now, so you might just have to guesstimate at how many times that was and backdate your drinks.
9.46pm: AND THERE WE ARE. Stan's won, you're all drunk, and I've finished a complete Idol Wrap Up earlier than ever before. WHY DIDN'T I JUST LIVEBLOG EVERY SUNDAY? Anyway that's it. I hope you've all enjoyed your time here in the BC - I'll be blogging bits and pieces from now until the next reality TV series that takes my fancy. Suggestions? Add 'em to the comments.
Until then, you can catch me on Twitter - @petstarr - and propping up the bar at various places around SA.
"Just keep smiling, just keep smiling." "Mmm-hmm!"
Because tonight's show goes for like, 16 hours, I'll be LIVEBLOGGING it all from 7.30pm CST right here! So don't wait for it to be over - head on over here from the kick off and keep hitting that refresh button for LIVE and HILARIOUS running commentary from me (and possibly Raoul, if he can stand it).
Greetings, Idolites and BC fans - I come to you from the land of the long, white steam cloud, otherwise known as Adelaide in a heatwave. In November.
Yes, it's EFFING hot here right now. It's hotter than James singing Hot in the City, Buble style. It's hotter than Scott's tattoo sleeve. It's hotter than Satan in an alpaca jumper sitting on an oil heater in the Simpson Desert. While on fire.
It's about this hot here right now.
But even Adelaide's searing 43 degree heat is no match for the opening performance by our final three - a finely tuned bit of MEDLEY MAYHEM combining Europe's Final Countdown with what they obviously assume are their best songs to date, ie: Purple Rain, Crazy and Somebody Told Me. Somebody told ME Hayley and James were wrong about that...
The performance really heats up when James jumps up on a ledge behind the judges and starts shrieking "I THINK I'M CRAAAAAZY!"
"Geez, I'd love to see him fall off there," says Raoul.
Me too.
In celebration of reaching the top three, James and Stan have come dressed as each other tonight, but have helpfully chosen different coloured shirts so we can tell them apart.
Also - Stan is the talented one.
In a surprise akin to eating a packet of chicken flavoured chips and finding they taste nothing like chicken, STAN is voted the first person through to the final. He says something like "Praise god ay yeah" in his usual articulate way.
"Please fucking get rid of James," pleads Raoul, in HIS usual, articulate way.
Drum roll - and our second finalist is... HAYLEY. Raoul erupts with joy.
"SEE YOU LATER YOU LITTLE PUFFED-UP SLEEVES, ABOUT TIME!" he shouts. As a reminder: Raoul likes to pretend he doesn't like this show.
"Woah, I was packing it before, I thought I was going home," Hayley says.
"You are, next week," scoffs Raoul, who has by now set up his tent in the pro-Stan camp and is already roasting marshmallows and unrolling his sleeping bag.
Meanwhile, over at the judge's desk, Marcia looks like she just hopped off the Starship Enterprise:
SING LONG AND PROSPER.
Actually, hang on - IS SHE A KLINGON?
Spot the difference.
I swear to GOD if that woman doesn't have her own float in next year's Mardi Gras, I'll lose faith in the entire gay community.
Let's move on to our special guest judge which tonight is swing king Michael Buble. Either that, or someone's accidentally poured a bucket of water on James and reconstituted him to his full form.
Meanwhile, Britney Spears is still absent, having declined an invitation to be guest judge due to the logistics of lip synching live commentary.
OK so we're all set up - we have our final two, we have our guest judge, we've gotten rid of the short annoying one and now it's time to SING! Anyone have any idea how to fill two hours of show with just two performers?
It's a book! No, a movie! Two syllables? TITANIC! Oh, wait...
Fortunately we won't have to resort to charades with Jay Dee and Ken Doll, as Stan and Hayley are going to sing THREE SONGS EACH. Hmm, on second thoughts - can I have another stab at that movie title?
Too late - it's on to STAN for our first performance of the night. But first, time for some QUOTE-A-RAMA with Mr Micky Bubble:
"I didn't like Stan very much, he has a ridiculous voice."
"God kissed Stan's throat."
"When he sang, I wanted to kick him a little bit."
Buble is so excited you get the impression he'd pash Stan if he could - and if God would only get his tongue out of his throat first.
Stan's chosen to sing How Can You Mend a Broken Heart, otherwise known as How Can You Bore an Audience to Tears. The answer = like this.
"How can you stop the rain from falling down?" he sings.
Move to South Australia.
Dicko clearly has nothing interesting left to say about Stan anymore, so turns his critique into a lame interview instead. Meanwhile, Marcia hears the engines starting up on the Enterprise, grabs Buble and runs off stage so as not to miss the ride back to her home planet. Jay Dee says something about texting a hitman, which may or may not be at the root of his plan to keep Kyle Sandilands off TV forever. Everyone holds hands, pashes each other and says how much they want to have Stan's babies. Then they set up their tents next to Raoul's and start telling ghost stories around the fire.
Next up is HAYLEY, with Sneaky Sound System's UFO.
OMG - has Hayley actually chosen a good song?
"I saw a UFO and nobody believes me," she sings.
"I believe you."
Marcia continues the theme of not actually saying anything of note by saying "congratulations". Buble says Hayley is infectious - maybe she was pashed by God too? Dicko says she's not too cool for school. Jay Dee says she's out of this world.
"There are more worlds than you could possibly know about, Mr Springbett."
Back over to STAN, who's either a) outing himself as a transexual on live television or b) really testing the boundaries of Idol's PG rating by singing about his black box. Or a black box. I'm not sure which, but it'll be his single if he wins, so if you plan on listening to commercial radio at any point in the next three months you should probably get used to it.
"There's a little black box somewhere in the ocean, holding all the truth about us," he sings, sounding a bit like Coldplay would if Usher got them drunk and then did unspeakable things to them in a cheap hotel room.
The song lends itself nicely to a dance remix that will no doubt be included on the next R&B Superclub compilation, sandwiched bweteen Sexy Bitch and Shake Dat Booty. It also smacks of "summer TV promo" - so expect to see Ten promoting all its shitty imported American TV fails with it this December.
For the record, I'd like to say that the only songs I want to hear Stan record are by Al Green, Marvin Gaye and HIMSELF, if this Youtube video is any indication of his song writing ability:
Buble goes on some more about how great Stan is. I try to listen to what he has to say, but I'm momentarily distracted by the skirting board. Jay Dee takes one look at Stan and says he wants his T shirt back.
This is how Jay Dee keeps track of his T Shirts - by screenprinting a giant picture of his face onto them.
Dicko says it's awesome. Marcia says - ah who cares, no one's saying anything interesting anymore.
Time for some filler? YOU BET. Let's check out all the Idols you've long forgotten about going to Maccers for McHappy day, where C grade celebrities sell burgers for a day in order to remind us all they still exist. Or actually, are they all at KFC? I think the answer is WHO THE FUCK CARES.
Back over to HAYLEY with For Once in My Life. OMG, THAT MEANS...
I CAN'T BELIEVE IT'S ONLY UP TO FOUR.
To be perfectly frank - IT IS LAME. Cruise ship lame. Maths jokes lame. CIRQUE DU SO LAME. It is so bad, she can't even get the crowd interested in clapping along.
"You're a talented girl... you're a nice girl..." says Buble, who is clearly ITCHING to finish the sentence with "but you're not as good as Stan".
Jay Dee says he's "mesmerised by her versatility", which I think is record label exec speak for "lame". Dicko says he listened to it "with my ears in" - AND IT WAS STILL LAME. No word on where his ears were earlier in the show.
Perhaps under Marcia's shoulder pads.
Marcia receives a transmission from the mothership and tries to translate it on the fly for the English speaking audience - it comes out something like "You should have sung the song to yourself because I saw the light in your eyes and it went damn."
"bIjatlh 'e' yImev."
Back over to STAN in this NEVER ENDING VOLLEY OF CRAP POP SONGS - thank the lord he's opted to bring us some more Beyonce, sweet, sweet Beyonce, with Sweet Dreams. And another hoodie. I thoroughly approve of one of these things. He takes Beyonce for a spin around the islands and Maoris her up a bit, chucking in a bit of a haka half way through. I APPROVE.
"This could be a sweet dream, or a beautiful KA MATE KA MATE KA ORA!"
"You do come from a culture where masculinity is prized," says Dicko, distinguishing Stan from all those other cultures that don't prize men...
...all of which you can see clearly identified on this globe.
Marcia says it was bad. But bad meaning good, like the Michael Jackson way.
Not bad meaning bad, like the Nikki Webster way.
"I always felt I was a heterosexual guy, but I feel all fuzzy when you dance like that," says Buble. Wait until he finds out about his black box.
Jay Dee continues this ENTIRE SEASON'S overarching theme of lame homosexual-themed comedy by complaining Stan's nipple kept falling out. How did I miss that? More importantly, how did the cameras miss that?
Never mind, it's back over to HAYLEY for what feels like the 53rd performance of the evening with her winner's single, Good Day. It's what Pink would sound like if Kelly Clarkson slipped a roophy into her beer and dressed her up in a cocktail dress and pink stilettoes while she was unconscious. It's pretty good.
"This'd be a GOOOOOD DAY to let you down," she sings.
Meanwhile, Raoul decides it's a good day to go watch The Wire in the other room. Quitter.
After a few more choruses and approximately 723 repetitions of the line "it's a goooood daaaaaay", I decide it'd be a good day for Hayley to stop singing - this song has suddenly gotten extremely irritating.
Marcia says Hayley has a distinctive voice, an observation that has been made about 357,002 times tonight. Buble makes the audience cheer for no apparent reason, Jay Dee congratulates some bloke called Ross, and Dicko says the song is so good he's going to illegally download it, rather than pay the 99c it will no doubt eventually be on iTunes.
Before we get to Stan's final song we're forced to sit through an unusually morbid montage in which he mentions something about being abused, having no hope or purpose, and crying himself to sleep.
"As Stan takes the stage at the Sydney Opera House next week he's proved one thing - no matter how dark life can get, there is always hope," says Ken Doll.
Me right now.
Then Stan ruins it all by singing a Luther Vandross song. Oh well, it couldn't last anyway.
Buble asks Stan's parents if it's weird that people will soon be making love to their son's voice in the shower. Then he asks if they'd find it weird if he made love to their son in the shower. They would.
Jay Dee says win or lose, Stan's won. Or lost. Then he says he's ridiculous. Dicko says some load of crap, I dunno - is this nearly over? Marcia thanks the Australian public and then starts thanking the band and crew for all their hard work, having clearly forgotten that Hayley still has a song left to sing.
The audience starts to file out and Jean the Channel Ten cleaning lady moves on to the stage with her mop and bucket before someone reminds her that Hayley hasn't sung her final song yet. Everyone sighs and sits down again.
HAYLEY finally comes up and wraps up the night with another pop gem, Rihanna's Don't Stop the Music. It's fair to say she's chosen the better songs tonight. The fact that she's singing them all fairly badly is secondary. I also thoroughly approve of her new jacket, which looks like what you'd get if a piano mated with a tuxedo.
Jaunty.
She is still dancing like an absolute mong though. Bless.
"I thought sitting next to the sexiest guy in the room is why this guy was on fire tonight," he says cryptically. I have no idea what he's talking about but the fact that he can acknowledge anyone other than himself as being sexy is in itself, astounding.
Dicko says he's not irrelevant. Not until next year anyway. Marcia helpfully points out that Hayley is a chick. THANKS MARCIA. Buble says she's a nice humble kid, and then adds "but Stan is way more awesome" under his breath.
AND OH MY GOD, THATS IT. IT'S ALL OVER. Well, until next week's grand finale - otherwise known as TWO HOURS OF FILLER featuring celebrities with not very expensive hire fees and past Idol contestants you no longer care about.
OH MY GOD, WE'RE DOWN TO THE FINAL THREE. Well, we will be as soon as everyone stops singing We Built This City on Rock and Roll. Seriously, they made them do that to open the show this week. And you know why?
BECAUSE IT'S TWO HOURS OF POWER NIGHT!
Big deal - I have 24 hours of power at my house every day.
That's right - just three singers, FOR TWO WHOLE HOURS. HOW DOES THAT WORK? Maybe I misheard and it's actually "Gilbert and Sullivan operettas night" and it won't be over until Nathan has sung the whole of The Mikado.
Unfortunately the presence of Starship in the first five minutes seems to contradict that theory - although Hayley's COMPLETELY RIDICULOUS outfit wouldn't look too out of place in Pirates of Penzance.
She is the very model of a modern major general. Apart from those ripped tights.
Hayley, I know I've criticised your black jacket and jeans ensemble quite consistently over the last 10 weeks, but if I'm in any way responsible for your apparent need to turn to ripped leggings and tails, I am truly sorry.
So it's over to the votes - and it's slim pickings this week with only Mini Zoolander, Light Red, Gaythan and Stunned left to choose from. First back to the bench is... WHAT THE? JAMES?
I think we can all thank Toby for this turn of events.
Thanks to the quitting teacher, Australia has clearly had a change of heart about poor little James and his puppy dog eyes and voted for him in earnest. Drats. Which leaves a highly undesirable bottom three of STAN, NATHAN and HAYLEY.
HOW THE HELL?
I'm momentarily distracted from this awfulness (and no, I'm not still talking about Hayley's outfit) by Marcia, who is looking FIIINE tonight:
Mama's got a brand new wig.
But her Halle Berry-ish new look isn't enough to distract me from Australia's ultimate decision, which is that GAYTHAN should be kicked out of the competition.
This prety much sums that up.
So it looks like the people of Australia DID eventually get behind Nathan - and booted him out the door.
"I just wish everyone could see the amazing people who work back stage here," Nathan says, ignoring the fact that Ten is having enough trouble convincing viewers to watch the people ON stage.
Speaking of which, how are they planning to fill two hours with just three people?
"Each of our Idols will perform three songs tonight..."
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
"It'll be all killer, no filler," Ken Doll continues.
Some simple maths would seem to refute that: If each Idol has three songs at approximately two minutes each, that's 18 minutes down. OUT OF TWO FUCKING HOURS.
Clearly there's going to be some time to kill tonight - so it's over to Ricki Lee, who is single handedly setting back the national domestic violence campaign by looking like someone has punched her in both eyes.
To bad make up - Australia says no.
Or maybe she's just trying to outdo eyeliner-loving special guest judge PETE WENTZ, who tonight is rendered even MORE special by virtue of the fact that HE'S NOT BRITNEY SPEARS.
Sadly, Britney couldn't get out of her circus cage to attend tonight.
Seriously, Pete Wentz? Are Fall Out Boy even touring at the moment? Why is he here?
"He looks like Missy Higgins," says Raoul.
"But with more makeup," I counter.
Speaking of makeup, it seems Ricki Lee has won the eyeliner battle as Pete has turned up clean faced, in a hoodie, jeans and maths nerd haircut and looks like the guy who lives down your street. Inexplicably, every teenage girl in the audience spontaneously wets their pants.
On to the performances, starting with JAMES who is attempting Toto's Hold the Line. Well, what beter way for a crooner wannabe to get around the "two hours of power" theme than with a dose of yacht rock?
He has a nice, wrought expression on his face - like he's just discovered the mass of cocaine he's bought for the bikini party on his yacht this weekend is actually bicarb soda - but he really needs a moustache to complete the look.
"Holder lion - glove isn't hallways on life," he sings, suggesting he might have had a little too much of that bicarb.
He finishes on a power note, and it looks uncomfortably like his brain is going to explode out of his forehead.
"Hold the OWWWWWWWWWWW!"
"I hate him - I hate the way he looks, I hate the way he sounds, I hate his little twitchy movements, I HATE EVERYTHING," shouts Raoul charitably.
I'm not sure I necessarily agree with Raoul's summation, but I do reckon I've seen better performances on footpaths. And so as a one-off special event this week I shall compare each Idol song to a past performance on that illustrious beacon of Australian TV talent quest integrity - POT LUCK. Fans of 90s Saturday night television, like me, will remember the best of Pot Luck courtesy of The Late Show's weekly toilet break.
As everyone knows, the number one Pot Luck performance of all time, the yardstick against which all other talent quest performances have always been measured, is the unforgettable Todd Rixon:
While James' performance didn't quite get to the level of awfulness of Mr Rixon, I reckon it was fairly on par with Chris Lopes:
Dicko says James' power is in his tenderness, and he should have done something tender. As much as I'm not a fan of James, I think we all know that if he had come out singing Jack Johnson on TWO HOURS OF POWER NIGHT and argued the "tenderness is my power" line, Dicko would have told him he was shit. And I would have agreed. SO BASICALLY, JAMES CAN'T WIN. Marcia fulfils her contractual obligation to disagree with everything Dicko says by disagreeing with what Dicko said. La Wentz says James did an excellent job of interacting with the crowd. Another girl wets her pants. Jay Dee says he doesn't know if James did anything wrong, but he's not sure if he did anything right either. Then he says he's Liza Minnelli.
Which goes some way to explaining his last two comments.
Over to HAYLEY who has gone for the biggest gun in the Idol arsenal with U2's One. Or as she sings it: "Werrr-errrrn".
I continue to be distracted by her atrocious outfit. Honestly, she looks like she's been dressed by a mental patient with a military fetish. Is this the result of some sort of equal opportunity initiative in the styling department? Has Sheridan been recruiting apprentice stylists from special schools again?
THAT EXPLAINS EVERYTHING.
The ensemble of hoodie, sleeveless jacket with tails and gold braiding, ripped leggings and school shoes makes me wish she'd chosen Metallica's One instead - lyrics like "darkness imprisoning me, all that I see, absolute horror" seem far more appropriate. I'm so enthralled by her outfit that I almost miss her performance of Wern - except for the bits where she sang off key.
In the Pot Luck stakes, I reckon Hayley is a bit like Razia - it might have seemed like a good idea when she put the costume on, but the performance never really lived up to expectations:
Just for something different, Marcia says Wern is one of her favourite songs. La Wentz shows how cool he is by wanking on about how he was in the studio when they were remixing U2, then shows off his Wikipedia research skills by giving us the whole history of the band before concluding that Hayley is kind of OK. Liza Minnelli says U2 is too safe. Dicko says Hayley wasn't great but she didn't destroy the song either, it was a nil-nil draw.
WHAT A SCINTILLATING CRITIQUE.
Moving along to STAN who takes a look at Hayley's puny U2 gun, pushes it aside and reaches for the double barrelled nuclear missile launcher with Survivor's Eye of the Tiger. Oh dear. This has bad news written all over it.
And then - BLOODY FUCK WHAT THE HELL? Stan's done a Dean Geyer (but with less bum crack), back flipping out onto the stage. TAKE THAT, MOFOS! STAN'S HERE AND HE'S GOING TO KICK YOUR ARSES LIKE SOME KIND OF CRAZY IDOL NINJA! YESSSSS! Suddenly it doesn't matter that he's wearing a pooncy vest with a giant treble clef on it, like he's just come back from band camp. As with the vest, the rest of the song is a bit crap to be honest - he's out of breath and missing a few words here and there, BUT WHO CARES? HE DID A FUCKING BACKFLIP! GO STAN!
In Pot Luck terms, Stan would probably be Todd Rixon if he had never broken his arse and just kept on dancing. But as there's no video of that, I'll have to go with Michael Cannon instead. Michael who? Cannon. What? CANNON. Can you spell that?
La Wentz says the Benjoel told him to watch out for Stan.
"Watch out for Stan."
"If you don't win this thing and you end up with nowhere to go, give me a call please," says La Wentz.
Jealous.
Well that's positive - if Stan loses, maybe Pete can help get him his job back at the mall?
Minnelli takes credit for Stan's amazing gymnastics by mentioning the treadmill again. THERE IS MORE TO LIFE THAN TREADMILLS. Dicko bums one of Minnelli's funny pills with the Mitsubishi logo printed on it and says Stan's performance had all the hallmarks of a bad karaoke song, and it was awesome. CONFUSED? GOOD. Marcia says something inconsequential and then it's time for some padding, courtesy of Ricki Lee. She's interviewing some woman who's campaigning for world hunger relief, which is a little like Lindsay Lohan interviewing someone campaigning for alcoholics anonymous.
Anyway, back to JAMES who is doing More than Words by Extreme who, by the way, ARE STILL TOURING.
"I think I might go watch The Wire. I can't stand another hour of this shit," says Raoul.
"MORE THAN WOOOORRRRRRRDS," I sing.
"Shhh! I can't hear it now because of YOU," snaps Raoul in what would seem to be a very sudden change of heart. See what Extreme can do to a man?
They can give him big hair, for one thing.
As you've probably guessed, I missed most of James' performance because I was singing my own version, but I know that it included bongoes, a guitar, a pair of VERY shiny shoes, and no high bits.
It was a bit like Gary Bond, but with less apt lyrics:
Minnelli says he hates that song but loves it when James strips. Then he says he wants him to "bring it out" for the next song. Let's hope James takes note to ensure a rollicking Chippendales-style finale! Dicko congratulates James on not choosing a "girlyman" song. Er, excuse me Dicko, but James just sang More Than Words. It's not exactly Enter Sandman, is it? Apparently Extreme are proper rock according to Dicko because "they wore leather pants". So did the Spice Girls.
This woman has a full leather body. That must make her the sunbathing equivalent of AC/DC.
Marcia says something about gravitating. Or maybe levitating. Whatever it is, we can probably attribute it to some of Minnelli's pills. La Wentz confuses the Idol judging panel for his weekly therapy session and says he never got to second base with any of the girls at school.
"What's second base?" I ask.
"Fingers. Fingering," says Raoul sagely.
Next up is HAYLEY again - Ken Doll announces she'll be singing INXS. A furious round of betting begins in Idol HQ as to which song she will attempt - Raoul says New Sensation, I say Suicide Blonde. I would normally have gone for Never Tear Us Apart but after Wern I'm not so sure.
"Here's Hayley Warner with New Sensation," shouts Ken Doll. Bugger.
"LIVE, BABY LIVE - NOW THAT THE DAY IS OVER," she sings, badly off key.
"Now that my career is over" might have been more appropriate. This is truly terrible. I didn't think Hayley had it in her to be crap, but she's pulling out all stops tonight. In Pot Luck terms, she's definitely this chick:
The best thing I can say about Hayley's performance is that it makes me realise I never want to hear anyone sing New Sensation other than Michael Hutchence.
"That was a poo sensation," says Raoul.
Dicko says Hayley has bacteria in her voice, which would possibly explain why she has suddenly gone to shit in this competition. Marcia uses her fallback for when she has nothing nice to say - complimenting the band. La Wentz says something about interacting with the audience for about the 500th time this episode. Jay Dee continues his Liza Minnelli impression by saying he'll reserve judgement until her third song. Fortunately for her, Liza's fans did the same thing when she was here recently.
Next up is STAN doing James Brown's It's A Man's World. It's a good choice, and he's looking schmick in a black suit jacket and white unbuttoned shirt. He stands there, he sings it, there are strings, there are no back flips, it is still pretty awesome. Like this woman:
Marcia tries to outdo La Wentz's suck-up tales of celebrity by saying she once got to see James Brown sing that song. Good for you, Marcia. La Wentz says something about what Stan has in his "wheelhouse", which I think is some weirdo Americanism for "cockpit". Luckily, we all already know what Stan has in his cockpit, thanks to his backflip earlier in the evening. Jay Dee tries to make himself look emotionally open by pretending to cry, and Dicko brings it on home with the Completely Obvious Joke That I Can't Believe Nobody Has Made Yet by saying it's "Stan's world".
JAMES is back next with with Foo Fighters' Learn to Fly, which he's decided to strip back to an acoustic version. JUST FOR SOMETHING FUCKING DIFFERENT.
He grabs his guitar and starts strumming Summer of 69 before changing his mind and sticking with the Foo Fighters plan. Eventually he gives up, slings his guitar off and starts to lead the audience in a clap. His shoes are still shiny.
This man's shoes are also shiny, but he's slightly more entertaining than James:
Fearing Marcia's celebrity anecdotes might be more impressive than his, La Wentz wanks on about how Dave Grohl bought him a beer in Germany once, a boring anecdote that takes about 20 minutes to tell and has no real point. Jay Dee says it was more "Poo Fighters" than Foo Fighters, a joke which was funnier when Raoul said it about 10 minutes ago. Dicko says James is missing he point of James - WHAT IS THE POINT OF JAMES? TELL US! Marcia says James has an inner thing.
"He has an outer thing too, and I want him to bring it out!" shrieks Jay Dee.
And so we move on to HAYLEY who has decided on The Verve's Bittersweet Symphony for her final performance. Hmm.
"It's a metaphor for life," explains Hayley helpfully. Thanks Hayley.
It's alright but, you know. It's Bittersweet Symphony. WHERE THE HELL IS THE GOD DAMN ROCK AND ROLL? TWO HOURS OF POWER? TWO HOURS OF SOFTCOCK BOREDOM, I SAY.
Raoul declares the whole thing "snoozeworthy". Her final word is "die" and that about sums it up. In terms of coolness and rock and roll swagger tonight, Hayley is on par with these ladies:
Jay Dee her voice breathed, the tonalities came back, and some other crap no one believes. ADMIT IT, SHE WASN'T THAT GOOD TONIGHT. Dicko says Hayley has a commanding femininity. Maybe that explains the military jacket?
"I am Commander Femininity."
Marcia says as long as she put her own spit in it, it's good - a philosophy Marcia applies equally to cooking, so beware if you're ever invited round to the Hines household for dinner. La Wentz manages to say something without telling a half hour anecdote about another celebrity friend of his, and we move on to our final performer of the evening - STAN - who is bringing us all home with the power of the lord and Amazing Grace, otherwise known as The Song Most Likely To Get a Standing Ovation From Marcia.
"Uf you thunk you love Jesus clup your hends..."
Hey, do you think Stan's religious?
"Christ, I'm going to get some cloves of garlic," says Raoul.
"He's not a vampire, he's a Christian," I argue but it's too late - Raoul's already threading garlic onto a piece of twine for round his neck.
Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound... Christ, this is more like an episode of Songs of Praise than Idol. I suppose it IS Sunday. Meanwhile, in the background, Jay Dee is so mesmerised by the performance he's talking animatedly to Pete Wentz about hair - possibly the fact that he has none.
I'm sorry to say it, but Stan's performance is about as exciting as Raymond Schild's:
Clearly swept up by the whole happy clapper vibe, Dicko says he's proud to be part of a show that "allows a lad to find redemption through music". I'm starting to feel that the consumption of grade A narcotics is necessary to understand the judge's comments on this show. Marcia says he sings from "that very special place".
"What, Sydney?" pipes up Raoul, who still hasn't buggered off to watch The Wire.
La Wentz says Stan took us on a journey with his voice, and used both of his pipes.
So presumably he can now understand every word Dicko is saying.
And that's it for another week, kids. Who do you reckon is out next week? I think it might be Hayley.
Meanwhile, if only NATHAN had been allowed to perform tonight, I'd like to think he would have done something equivalent of this (and hopefully with a similar costume):
