Australian Idol - Fly Me To The Moon. Now.

Panic not dear readers, I return with vitriolic computer shaped pen in hand (or really, at fingertip) to share my musings on the goings on of everything Idol. My utmost apologies for missing last week. I was at deaths door and had to fight the bugger off armed only with an acerbic wit and the sharpness of my tongue, so there was no bite left for the Idol's. But I'm baaa-aaack.

Firstly. RIP Miss Chanel Cole. It was for the best, my love. This way you're not going to be pigeonholed into some ridiculously rushed album that will produce only two mediocre hits before being resigned to the bargains bin at the local Sanity store. Now you can shine! Get signed up by some great jazz/contemporary adult label and I will buy everything you ever release.
Love TallulahBelle
xx
PS shut up Marcia.

Big Band. Well, I've been whispering it in a slightly gravelly-hoarse-shouldn't-be-speaking-at-all-voice the last week. I said Courtney and Chanel would have been the only ones to TRULY appreciate the Big Band vibe and I am pretty darn sure I was right. Courtney was smooth, he was sassy, he was BLOODY HOT in those suits - yowzah!! Both songs were a treat and I thoroughly enjoyed them, the CourtJester takes up the baton dropped by the lovely Chanel and he RAMS it right up Ricki-Lee's arse (who - FYI - would have been awful at BB, oooh and can you just imagine the trainwreck that would have been Big Band Emilia style? The horror, the horror!!)
Anthony. Borrrrrrring. Okay, enough already, we get it, he's probably going to win, yada yada yada, but frankly, I can't think of anything less exciting. Oh wait . . . . no, i was right the first time, I would actually watch paint dry before I would sit through an Anthony concert. His rendition of Fever proved to me that the boy has NEVER HAD SEX. Ever. Route 66 had a nice sparkle at the end, but if he does that leg thing, or the fingers thing, or the hand to the camera in a searching gesture thing one more freaking time, Fosse is going to put his foot through the screen. And I still haven't entirely paid for that TV yet so CUT IT OUT Callea.
Hayley. Sigh. As Fosse loves to say - God be with you. Is it depressing that she has a mighty good chance to be the last girl standing? Her first song gave me nothing. Her second I thought was lovely and quite possibly the nicest thing she's done in a loooong while, but I still don't get a whole lot from her. And am I the only one who thinks of Carol-Anne from the Poltergeist movies when I look at her?
Casey. Oh, how I loved this girl to start with. My three C's, Chanel, Courtney and Casey (in that order). She nearly killed me with Eleanor Rigby and last night just about finished me off. I get that she's only 16, great job, such a young girl blah blah blah (shut up Marcia) but I don't think she has the vocal maturity to carry this off. She covered up getting the words wrong in Come Fly With Me much better but still. They need to up the age bracket of this thing. For sure. And maybe make them sit some standard English and vocab tests. Excellent call Mr Dicko, we will miss you sorely next season. (Note to the AI producers, I am currently unemployed and I understand you have a position about to become available. See the above as my written application . . .)

My money is on one of the girls to go. I think it might be another all boy finale. But hey you know, I quite literally haven't been right ONCE. Not once. I don't even want to speculate on the US election on Wednesday just in case I jinx John Kerry - awwwwww NUTS . . .