For those of you who don't know, it's a singing competition. Except watching it for the first time, you'd be forgiven for failing to pick up on that element of the concept - the whole "singing" lark is now such a minor sub-plot to the programme's edit that you'd think you were gazing through a portal to a nightmarish dystopia in which everything, everywhere has gone to shit; a world in which slaves line up in their droves to attempt to win the approval of the goading hoards of parasites in the audience and the four horsemen of the apopolypse (thanks) that sit behind a desk marked with the Holy Cross of Stardom.
Of course, the way it's edited, you'd think all of the tens of thousands of entrants each get their chance in front of the judges. But because everyone in the world now knows someone who's had a shot at stardom, it's the worst-kept secret in TV that only a tiny handful make it past the screening judges to have a chance to impress Louis Walsh with how gay they are, or whatever.
So how do you make it into the final edit? Well, having watched enough episodes to make my soul shrivel up in shame, I've identified a few ways. You have to be:
Ugly But Talented
"Ah look at the ugly idiot, HA HA HA, look at their poor spotty face! You can't be a pop star you idiot, you're TOO UGLY!" But wait - the voice of angel emerges from their greasy cakehole! And with that moment of telly magic, we've all learnt a very valuable lesson about how even ugly people can be oxygen-worthy - as long they can sing.
Obviously if they're ugly and they can't sing, they can crawl back to their mingcave from whence they came.
'Character'
If you've only been blessed with an average singing voice, you've got to have something else in your locker. Maybe you've got a wacky personality, or can do a funny dance, or you've built a shrine to Louis Walsh in your garage. Whatever. No-one is interested in an averagely talented singer unless you've got some kind of unique angle to work with.
Of course, the oldest trick in the book on this front is the famous X Factor Sob Story, a technique so popular that there must now only be a handful of popstars without one. There's plenty of different angles you can have. Maybe you've had a troubled upbringing. Perhaps your dear Grandfather died, and, with his final breath, the X Factor application form rolled out of his unclenched fist and onto your feet. Or maybe everyone you know was killed in an horrendous atrocity on your tenth birthday, and you decided that day that, since the Roman numeral for ten is X, it was destiny that you should enter the X Factor to avenge their deaths by singing Paolo Nutini's 'New Shoes'.
Whatever your sob story is, make sure you get as much leverage out of it as possible. Don't worry about desecrating the memories of the deceased - having their deaths used as leverage in a farcical singing competition is what they would have wanted.
Hateful
Being utterly hateful is always a great way to get on the show. Perhaps you could be really cocky. Or you could display how unpleasant you are by being a bit nasty to loveable Gary Barlow. Or you could display a bit too much confidence, so that despite your attempts to appear 'raw' and 'undiscovered', it's obvious you've been through stage school. Whatever your approach, as long as you're a snide little shit, you're in.
Deluded / Mentally Ill
Of course, one sure-fire way of getting on is to be mentally ill. Nothing makes better Saturday night telly than someone who clearly isn't all there upstairs parading themselves up and down the stage whilst shrieking in front of the baying mob in the audience. "HA HA HA they're mental and they can't sing, but they think they can! HA HA HA."
Apparently by entering the contest it appears they've waived their right to dignity and we can all enjoy a joke that everyone is in on apart from them. (Oddly, if someone mentally ill has - say - a talented son, then they win our sympathy. Confusing, isn't it?)
One of the tragedies in past series of the programme is that, until it gets to the live shows, we've not been able to express our contempt for these deluded souls. Thankfully that's been addressed this year with a smartphone app with a 'tap to clap' feature, so you can sit at home and bash your phone to boo the mentally ill and clap when an ugly person manages to sing in tune. Even if you're not sure how you feel about someone (and the backing track hadn't made it obvious how you should feel), you won't have to do any thinking, because there'll be a shot of some audience members showing their contempt/delight/horror/amusement and you can bang your phone against your skull, point at the TV and screech accordingly.
Somehow, despite the hideousness of it all, we keep watching. Well I do, anyway, as you can tell. There's something in the way they've edited it all together which, despite how unpleasant it all is, makes it incredibly addictive. A bit like pulling nose hairs.
Still, at least at the end of this torturous process, we're blessed with a wonderful new pop star whose career will produce classic after classic. I mean, can you imagine a world without former X Factor winners like Leon Jackson, Joe McElderry and Steve Brookstein?
Oh.
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