Tonight Matthew, I’m going to be…Quentin Crisp.
We watched the X Factor final from Wembley Arena. Polished production, big numbers, slick performances (but too many advert breaks). Commercial, manufactured bubble gum pop? Certainly. Fun and entertaining? Absolutely. Liam’s a huge fan. My first visit to the arena was way back in 1974 (I think) to watch Alice Cooper perform his Welcome to My Nightmare show. It was fabulous. I’m a huge fan.
Little Mix won. I’m sure they’ll do well. Personally, I was rooting for Marcus Collins. I’m not saying this because he’s a member of the brethren. I’m saying this because he’s a charming young man and a great entertainer who I suspect will outlive the usual fifteen minutes of fame. Marcus makes no secret of his sexuality. He’s out and proud. He has a boyfriend and is a fantastic role model for young gay men. It’s no big deal to anyone except, perhaps, to the producers of the show as it was never mentioned. X Factor exploits the back stories of the contestants. It’s part of the formula. They interviewed his loving family, his best friend, even the Lord Mayor of Liverpool got a look in. Where was the boyfriend? Maybe he didn’t want be exposed. If so, that’s fine. If not, that’s not fine.
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