Last night the X Factor hopefuls proved what a fabulous singer Elton John is.
They attempted, and I do mean attempted, to please us by singing some of Reggie's hits.
Oh dear.

Katie was the worst. Could hardly hear the song bird. But looked adorable with her red scarf wrapped around her bleached hair. A madam no doubt but an adorable one.

The best, Rebecca Ferguson. Her voice, apart from being her own...is an explosive cross between Eartha Kitt and Joan Armatrading. Honeyed dynamite.

Wagner was atrocious. Gold foiled jacket singing God knows what with enough dancers so as to take it off of him a bit. Great smile but zero talent.

One Direction had me squeezing my arthritic oil all over the screen.

Cher was ok. But to part-rap to an Elton song was a no-no for me. Brave but not to my taste.

Matt Cuddles aimed and scored, never a miss from the soft faced Essex man.

Aiden should concentrate on keeping his quiff stiff and leave the singing of loved tunes to people who are not pratts.

Mary Byrne is the pub singer in "Get Carter". Amply bosomed, a belter and er that's it.

Have I forgotten someone who's forgettable?

Can't wait to see who receives the order of the boot tonight. But that, in a way, is secondary to what must be the highlight of tonight's show...Not only will the new kids on the block, the French Letter merchandisers J.L.S. do a turn, Westlife will be on the bill, but top billing goes to the one and only, the nation's favourite, those men of a certain age...TAKE THAT!
Am all over the shop anticipating this plethora of hormone inducing male totty.
(For the record Ken Barlow's son Gary has always buoyed my vessel.)

Cooking today:
Something I cooked yesterday.
A hot and spicy beef and orange casserole.
And the last half moon of my Gateau Moka aux Amandes...