Aces are high, the judges too . . .

It’s Wildcard! Or we can call it by its official name, ‘Sausage Fest Plus Two Chicks and Marcia: 2007’, as once again, they have stacked the competition by putting mainly boys through to the Wildcard round – now I understand fully and completely the need to look at pretty pretty boys as they serenade me with their pretty pretty voices, I am a total girly sap who melts at the mere thought of my current guy wooing me with a sweetly sung song about us, together, forever. And in lieu of there being a current boy singing at me who does not live inside my television, I’m more than happy to live vicariously through Idol, convinced that G is flirting with me, knowing that Dicko and I could find True Love if only he was twenty years younger and if he never saw Holden again, sighing over that lovely Irish boy with his succulent falsetto . . . I totally get all that and I’m happy to have Mark da Costa and HotCarl immediately forwarded through to the Top 12. But Dave Andrews? Look, he’s cute and all, but no, this spot was reserved for Cheray Doughty. And Husny Thalib? He’s funny and cute in a fey, pirate-y way but this spot was reserved for either Jesse Curran or Sally van der Zwarte. In no known universe should those two boys have taken the spot of any of those incredibly talented lasses and I could smack both Holden and Dicko for putting them through. It is OFFICIALLY time for the show’s control to be HANDED OVER TO ME. Thank you.

First Odd(ie)-ly dancing cab off the rank is Jack I Like Him So Shut Up Byrnes who is putting his own little soul patch imprint on to the Doobie Brothers classic ‘Long Train Running’, which I would have sworn was called ‘Without Love’, proving I know SHIT about music history and DO need to take Prof Dicko’s Class On Stuff You Should Know About The Music Industry. Just watching Jack’s high octane energetically spazzy performance is exhausting me. He gets a little too into the groove and loses his vocal control slightly in places but this song has the coolest guitar riff and he’s just a really good singer and it, hell it just works. Weirdly, but it works.

Mark loves his energy and thinks he’s imminently likeable but feels he’s only three quarters of the way along and is just singing the song and not telling a story – he’s only three quarters of the way? Dude, another quarter may just KILL him. Dicko marvels at the little niche corner of the Idol market Jack is carving for himself, the white soul boy niche, and thinks he picks great songs (he really does) but that he’s still lacking that last bit of finesse, and that his movements around the stage reminded him of an old lady winning at bingo. Marcia’s uppers haven’t kicked in yet and she gets what the guys are saying and rather sensibly tells him he needs to find a place, even within an energetic performance, to be still within himself – as a performer, this actually makes a lot of sense, you can be losing your shit magnificently on stage but you still need to be able to draw back and see your own performance, otherwise you become horridly self indulgent. Rather like these essay length recaps . . . annnyway, Kyle thinks he’s only about five percent off and that he gets up there and LIVES LARGE. If Jack doesn’t get the audience vote, I hope the judges put him through.

Husny Thalib NOT dancing madly across stage like he has a live badger down his pants and instead standing stock still and emoting? Doesn’t work. Mostly because he has one arm stiffly held at his side like he’s had his hand chopped off in a fight to the death against a vampire with a soul and then this evil law firm he works for gave him another hand, an eeeevil hand that moves as though independent from his body, throttling the innocent and slapping babies, so he’s gaffa taped it to his side to keep it from hurting anyone. (God, I miss Angel). Anyway, Husny’s singing is nice and sweet but wholly unremarkable. His version of Blessed Union of Soul’s ‘I Believe’ is passionate but just not good enough or wacky enough. Katisha on TWoP noted that he’s very Eurovision and she’s TOTALLY right – if Australia ever gets to compete in that competition, Husny is Our Man.

Dicko talks about the bumfight there was on the judging panel when Mark said he was putting Husny through, that Mark thinks Husny has star quality – and Dicko sees it, but he thinks it might be better suited to fashion rather than performing and that he has to work really hard, for very little. Harsh, but fair. Marcia was really impressed with his performance and thinks the voting public may love him more than Dicko thinks. Kyle tells him that as lovely as he is, that it just doesn’t work for this show, if it was Nice Guy Idol, he would win (Dave Andrews later completely throws Husny to the ground and takes pole position for that title). Mark loves Husny’s stage presence because he burns up the camera. He calls the performance straight from the heart and thinks people will either love him or hate him.

G’s sneakers are incredibly white.

HotCarl Risely is Harry Connick Jr-ing a version of The Everly Brother’s ‘Bye Bye Baby’. This song really showcases his range quite nicely and I love his scat throw to the band – however, he doesn’t capitalise on it and the physical movement actually leaves him a little breathless and his voice weakens, but he rallies for a lovely ending – although the scat trumpet goes on a little too long.

Marcia is SO in love with this boy, she raves about his flavour (he looks like he might taste like toffee . . . just me? Right.) and tells him he’s so smooth and cool, it’s dynamite. Kyle is SO in love with this boy, he tells him he looks exactly the part but that he needs to make more ‘sexy face’ and to demonstrate gives HotCarl a ‘come to bed’ look and my ovaries literally just shrivelled up and DIED. But then HotCarl does it back and they SPRING back to life – hallelujah! Mark thinks he looks great on screen but that his personality isn’t coming through and tells him he needs to sing the song to someone – ooooh, I volunteer!! Me!! Sing to me HotCarl!! Dicko hopes that HotCarl hasn’t left his run too late because he’s just getting to where he needs to be, but don’t do the scat again – that way madness lies and he gets enough of the gobbledegook from Holden. Dicko brings up Axle Whitehead from Season One whose scat was NEVER as good as HotCarl’s Dicko, so why compare, why bring him into this, why ask where it’s left Axle now? Why? Purely so that Mathieson can dryly note that Axel isn’t on tv anymore because he scatted, but because he got his knob out (which he did - for those not aware, Axle flashed his tackle at the Aria's a few years back, although apparently just his balls and not his actual penis. I'm sorry for sharing this with you and just as sorry that I once YouTubed it). HAH! Brilliance, and funnier still because the person with their finger on the cough button mistimes James’ use of the word knob and ends up bleeping out the word ‘on’ instead. I giggle throughout the next set of commercials in hysterics.

Sarah Lloyde is, oh good god, she’s going to try Xtina’s ‘Candyman’. Ouch. Xtina really harmonises that song with her own voice, you’re actually hearing multiple Xtina backing vocals all at once, Sarah and the backing singers just don’t cut it. And frankly if you don’t have Benji from So You Think You Can Dance, swing dancing with you, what’s the point? She hits the right mix of cheeky mingled with wide eyed blonde Monroe sexuality but there doesn’t feel like there’s enough actual singing in this, it’s just like when Anthony Callea did ‘Carwash’ and it was a song of him just going ‘oooooh, aaaaaahhhh Car Wash, Car Wash, ooooooh aaaaaaaah’. I don’t know if this is the performance to get her through over Natalie Gauci, who is her only real competition here, if the public doesn’t put through a girl, the judges will and based on tonight I think it would be Natalie over Sarah.

Kyle knows she has a great voice – we all do – but calls it disappointing, too many holes and all he could hear were the BV’s. Mark also applauds the backing vocals and calls them primo and then asks her how SHE thought she went and that’s never a good sign, Sarah. She thinks it was just under what she could do and Mark thinks, of course, that that song should have had the male portion of the panel needing defibrillation and that she turned sassy into safe and then lapses into trademark Holden Babble, saying it didn’t burn his bippy/bibby – we need a Holden dictionary so I know how to spell the bullshit he comes out with, honestly. Dicko says that is a TOUGH song to do and talks about the massive amount of production value there is on that song – I’ve seen Xtina do it on the Grammy’s or the MTV awards, something, she was wearing this great white suit and a jaunty hat, and even she didn’t pull this song off. Dicko compares the video and type of song it is to being almost a period musical theatre piece. He really wants her to ahead but tells her its about picking the right song for her and her target audience. Mark can’t shut up about her connection with the song and understanding the lyric but he’s just so fucking snide about it, so Dicko patiently explains that because of her ‘journey’, they know she has the raw material to invest her songs with raw emotion. Marcia tells her she’s pretty as a picture and calls her courageous to try that song on. She also says Sarah needs to split the difference between the dancing and the singing to make sure she doesn’t overload her breathing and why is Marcia making sense today?

Dave Andrews, whose song choice has previously been safe and a little dull, is sticking with what he knows best, because he’s doing ‘Dolpins Fucking Cry’ by Live. God. Didn’t Dave just turn out to be remarkably vanilla flavoured. His lower range fails him and this is just not going to cut it, dude. He tries to rock it out but doesn’t even pebble. Mark da Costa must be stifling a grin because no one is taking the Rock off him . . .

Mark sighs that they really like him but the problem with that was ambitious song choice (ambitious? Huh, my dictionary says ‘boring’, we need the same version Mark, mine is a Websters) and he name checks Vanessa Amorosi because she used to sing it and Vanessa and Mark are Bestest Buddies because he once managed her right into obscurity, but nonetheless that’s a tough ass song to try and Dave still has too much to work on because that was well out of his depth. Dicko sits Dave down and tells him a bedtime story about Fool’s Gold and how Marcia once told him some performers have one really golden performance in them and that is it, after that they are empty ciphers and Dicko never really believed that until Dave. Marcia disagrees because she saw that Dave dug that and AI is a learning process and the people you work with help you blossom and Dave is a beautiful flower or some such bollocks. Kyle thinks he’s gone from being a contender to underperforming and some contestants get to this stage and slip and Dave has landed on a snake and not a ladder. Dave compounds on his personal awesomeness by saying how hard it is and how honest the judges are and how brilliantly talented everyone is and the respect he has for them and I awwwwwwww from my living room because he is a really decent guy. And then G calls him Dave Anderson instead of Andrews and Mathieson nods that its good that Holden got his prerequisite Vanessa A reference out of the way early this year and I giggle more because that’s what I said, James! Let’s have dinner!

Big haired scarf wearing Daniel Misfud has the blandest taste in music because he’s singing Roachford’s blahfest ‘Lay Your Love On Me’; sans scarf but with an ALMIGHTY plethora of chest hair and Fosse isn’t home to watch this but when he sees it he’s going to bankrupt himself to get Daniel into the Top 12 where he can further prove his hirsuteness because Fosse likes a hairy man. Daniel once again sings well but he’s just uninspiring and slightly insipid. And his habit of smiling like a chipmunk while he sings just bugs.

Dicko finds it gratifying that a contestant is listening to them and his conversation with Daniel about building architecture (fuck, I love the way he puts that) within his songs so he has somewhere to go and that Dicko’s girls told him not to bother coming home if he was mean to Daniel but he’s being nice even though they forgot Father’s Day. Oh, that’s not right. Not even some burnt toast and weak tea in bed? Adopt me Dicko, I can operate the Big Girl’s Stove, I’ll do you some bacon and eggs with garlic mushrooms and tomato and my coffee is GREAT! Marcia is a huge fan of the song and is glad he started mellow and built it and I just don’t get the judge-y love they give him but there it is – if he doesn’t get in through audience vote, he’s a shoo-in for Judge’s Choice. Kyle also adores him and calls it the kind of performance that will get him to the Opera House. Yeeeeeeeaaah, just not seeing it kids. Mark thinks he’s a contender but that there’s a mechanical-ness about what he’s doing (thank you!) and like Jack, he’s singing across the notes and still only hitting about 95-98%. Eh, I think Jack’s a better performer and singer.

Hot tamale Natalie Gauci is making her original semi final perf up to me by doing ‘Feeling Good’ and she even names the original chanteuse Nina Simone and her version and not Michael Buble’s (although, that is also an AWESOME version). She croons and makes sweet love to the first bit until she gets to the big, hip swaying, heart pounding, blood thumping finale and she rips it to shreds and drops it at our feet and DARES us not to worship her. I immediately obey and salaam in her direction.

Marcia lets loose with her first official ‘that’s what I’m talking about’ of the season, huzzah! Her vocal gymnastics were nice and tasteful and at the end she held a nice strong note, props. Kyle notes the HUGE difference from last time because she was comfortable and it was a great song choice and he LOVED it. Mark asks if her song choice was a statement about getting a second chance and he could really feel it, she was a total breath of fresh air. It was surprising, brave, her vocal control was incredible and had pure, sweet and strong notes. Dicko loves her brilliant ability to pick songs that are just left of centre enough. He loves her but hates her wardrobe, noting that when he sees her during the week she’s comfortable and looks great, like a muso but she gets on stage in some dodgy gear. G has the biggest fucking crush on her because he kind of sidles up and blushingly tells her she looks fantastic and that her performance was smoking. And then he makes out with her with his eyes. She is scorchingly hot. I approve of this crush, G.

Natalie Gauci and Mark da Costa could have the most adorable brunette children EVER, oh! And they should totally adopt Moppet Ben McKenzie too! Mark is rejigging a song he already did at the Seymour Centre, ‘Evie Part One’ and frankly, Chris Murphy needed his guitar, a bigger crowd and his patented Jack Black head flick to make this work and Mark juuuuust misses. His singing is great, but he goes to leap off the stage and looks disappointed that there’s no way for him to crowd surf the family and friends sitting courtside. But his singing is good enough to surely get him through, as a rock dude or chick we must have and so far, we don’t.

Kyle calls him one of the best rock singers we’ve got but couldn’t hear his high notes because the crowd was too loud – poor Nanna Sandilands. Mark really wants him to get through so he can truly Perform with a proper sized audience and I must agree that will kick ass. Dicko thinks the AI audience is only just waking up to him and that he’s putting the fear of god into the current Top Eight, saying how we’ve all just seen a GREAT perf from Natalie but that he thinks Mark is the best performer in the comp. Marcia just loves his energy – careful Mark, she’s like a basilisk, if you look directly at her she’ll stun you into a coma and suck you dry. She notes that he knows how to really work the room and chose one of the best rock songs in the world – eh, I think Evie only works live, recorded versions make me switch channels, it’s an overly dull long song. She loves what he brings to the comp, yes Marcia, his sweet sweet lovely tasting energy, mmmmm . . .

And that’s it. Last ditch chance’s done and dusted. There are five performers who should realistically go through – Jack, Sarah (on her previous perf), HotCarl (on this one), Natalie and Mark. If ANYONE puts Husny through over these five, one of whom is going to miss out anyway, I shall be wearing my Cranky Face ALL day tomorrow.

(Unless they pull another Roxanne LeBrasse and put all five of them through . . . please?)

You still get no dessert.

Right. Australia you may come out of your room as we are off to a good start, well done, your bedroom looks nice and clean and Moppet Ben McKenzie is first announced through. He is adorably pleased. He shuffles off (adorably) to the other current Top 12 Alumnus and is engGULFed in a group hug – he’s so tall that his head sticks (adorably) out the top and he (adorably) smiles. (He also breathes adorably and his heart rate is quite cute too.)

But ohhhhh nooooo, you are SO still grounded and also no tv for you for a week and ALL your phone privileges are suspended because did we not just have a talk about this? Did we not JUST discuss the putting through of weaker performers over stronger? Marty Simpson? Really? Are you testing me, young country?? Are you? Because I will TURN this season around and we will go back to 2006 when Irish was king AND I WAS HAPPY. And if you REALLY push me? Back to Season Three we shall go and you can suffer through Emily The Cold and DeadtomeOnetrickponyLee again and DON’T think I won’t do that.

Bah. Wildcard, Jack. Wildcard, Mark. Or shit will be rained down upon you all.

Sarah Grimly Determined Third Times A Charm Lloyde is taking a HUGE chance on what is one of the biggest, hardest songs to sing, ‘And I Am Telling You I’m Not Going’ – the song that won Jennifer Hudson an Oscar and which can really only be truly performed by four people; Jennifer Holliday, who sang this number as the original Effie from the Broadway Cast of Dreamgirls; JHud herself; Bianca Ryan, eleven year old wunderkind who rocked it amazingly on America’s Got Talent Season One; and Jake Gyllenhenhall that time on Saturday Night Live when he donned a wig and dress and belted it in his opening monologue. Sarah gives this version a Sarah McLachlan sliiiiide up into the note thing for the first part and then she gets growly and emotional and PUMPS it into the ceiling. In the sparse time they’re given to perform, she manages to infuse her performance with the desperation and neediness of the lyric and at the very end when she is BEGGING you, telling you that yes, you, YOU, you’re GOING to love me, she borrows last season’s Eyebrows of Determination and Grit from Ricky Muscat and clenches her jaw triumphantly when she nails the last note. Yowzah. Great performance, BIG song and memorable - which is necessary at this point – but the big question is does the Aust public think we need another belter in the comp when we already have Tarasai?

Mark worries about why she did that song given her age, because as a vocal exercise and to show her skill and control it was great, but he tells her she’s too young to sing that particular song – and I’m the first to leap to the defence of songs sung by too young Idols, LANA – but I totally got the emotional range from her on this one, Mark. Dicko backs me up and reminds us that Sarah has tried numerous times to get as far as she has and he was thinking of the hell of a journey she’s been on and if that’s the song she wants for her coming out party, grammy winning, Oscar winning, goosebump inducing song then that’s what she should sing and she DID give him goosebumps. Marcia also has the bumplies on her arm and talks about little Bianca Ryan and how she – an eleven year old – sings the bejesus out of that number and she thinks that Sarah absolutely pushed herself and did it. Kyle questions if she’s ever had her heart broken, trampled, been dumped etc and of course she has, so he thinks its fine. It was a tough decision and he thinks she’s ready and if she continues to make great song choice she’ll do well. Sarah promises to give Mark goosebumps next time and I know where we can get some dry ice for that, Sarah.

Morgan Who? Hosking has performed the entire back catalogue of George songs at her auditions, so instead she’s giving us Alanis Morissette’s ‘You Learn’ and this is SO not the song to be doing at this point, especially when you’ve already been edited out of the competition, Morgan. Her package shows she has a lovely higher vocal range and she’s going with the flat, nasally tones of Alanis? Sigh. There is a tremulous quality to her voice when she starts singing, that are obviously the product of nerves. There is some serious fear in her eyes and she doesn’t rock this remotely. She needed to give a performance that absolutely solidified who she was in people’s minds because we don’t know who she is at all and this is just not it.

Dicko tells us he’s been her biggest supporter and needed her to deliver big time – he says her perf was okay, but not ‘it’. He wanted her to be this year’s rock chick and he felt like Alanis wasn’t modern enough – I don’t know about that Dicko, Jagged Little Pill is a classic album of a pissed off chick. That shit is timeless. Marcia agrees with me (ugh) that Alanis still speaks to young women but that she heard Morgan’s nerves, her breathing was raggy and obvious. Kyle tells her she nearly got to where he wanted her to go but that it was disappointing. Mark sits in his idiotic silence for a moment thinking how best to knock Dicko’s favourite girl, before he theatrically groans and spits at her that she was all over the place, karaoke and the worst performance of the week. Ass. Morgan and G dance a little tension breaking jig as G sings ‘happy happy joy joy’. Morgan does not rush across the stage and spike her stiletto into Mark’s jugular. Wish fulfilment, it never works . . .

Seriously funky Holly Weinert is tackling Faith No More’s rendition of ‘Easy’ and she has me hook, line and sinker by the middle of the second line. She has such a cool, husky guttural tone to her lower notes, it slides deliciously down my spine. This is a very fun arrangement too – I can just hear it playing over the closing credits of the latest Drew Barrymore/Adam Sandler rom-com. Love it.

Marcia tells her that was great song choice and she remained herself. Kyle cops to previously finding her plain and boring but says she was on fire with that song and asks her if she’s been dipped in a bath recently – to be fair, she has done something FABULOUS with her hair since we saw her last. Mark lauds her arrangement and says she brought in the 21st Century Woman version of that song – and that’s TOTALLY the title of Drew’s movie and the song’s playing over the trailer now as well. Dicko tells her that was something really different that she did with that song and then proceeds to tell us how Lionel Ritchie wrote that song at 3.07pm on a warm lazy day in September at this tiny little café, just before he ordered a soy latte with a hint of cinnamon and just after he saw a cloud that reminded him of the colour green . . . we get it, Dicko. You know more about music and it's roots then the idiot they replaced you with who still sits down the other end of the panel and I LOVE you for it, I do, but you’re starting to get that teeniest tiniest bit . . . annoying about the whole thing. Just tell her she’s great – she is – and that you loved it – he did.

Mystery Meat contestant Madison Pritchett is officially our youngest contestant AND she has a pony! Yay! She’s singing Avril Lavigne’s ‘When You’re Gone’. Boo! She hits the occasional flat note and has no real sense of stagemanship and lacks experience, which shows as she wanders all over the place a little aimlessly. Her voice isn’t bad but it is a little reedy and thin around the upper register and this is all just a bit blah. Like Morgan before her, she needed to nail this bastard to the wall and get our attention but she hasn’t done that and I suspect most people will forget her within five minutes of her walking offstage.

Kyle opens with how great she looks but he was waiting for something more, he’s officially over ballads – huzzah! Me too! Unless Moppet is doing them, you know I feel that may be the secret to everything I hate, get Ben to sing it and I’ll miraculously love it – ooh, lets try this. Ben? Sing some Pussycat Dolls in the Top Twelve as a test. Mark thinks she’s a total sweetheart, and that her low tones are strong but says once she got into the higher range that she wasn’t hitting the notes solidly – he tells her she’s close but not quite ready yet – gee, a sixteen year old? Not ready yet? Do tell! Maybe . . . just maybe . . . you should think about bringing the age limit up to eighteen – anyone? Yes? Dicko says she lights up the room but his bugbear is mine, the freaking entry age on this show. He acknowledges it must be frustrating that they set the limit that sixteen year olds can enter but that they would have to market her almost as a child prodigy – hey, it worked for Nikki Webster. And in two years she can pose for Zoo Weekly. Marcia signs the papers giving ownership of Madison over to Australia, saying it's up to us to decide and you know what, it’s not that easy Marcia, there are procedures, there are forms to fill out and meetings with counsellors before we can take her off your hands. Has she had all her shots? Can we get a certificate that she’s roadworthy?

Brianna Carpenter owns a hell of a lot of crazy vintage dresses and tinkles a mean set of ivories. However, I feel she owns too many sets of coloured tights and I am putting my foot down regarding them. The foot! Is down! I love Regina Spektor’s song ‘Fidelity’ and that ‘ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ahhhhahahahah’ thing? Is fucking hard to do and sound GOOD at the same time, my friend. Brianna sounds good. The playacting she does with the audience and the facial expressions are just a wee bit over the top for me (and I’ve seen amateur productions of The Mikado) and when she sings about the voices in her head, I fear I believe her. But her vocals are pretty spot on and I do so love the very funky ‘break’ she has in her voice.

The voices in Mark’s head liked her too – except for the really angry one, that one still wants to just kill (KILL!) someone, preferably the guy sitting to his left. The personality currently inhabiting Mark hopes that she took Australia along with her on her musical, delicious, quirky, kooky, perky ride (and I’ve said this before but kook is the best tasting word in your mouth – take a moment now and say it out loud – kook). Dicko thinks she brought the fun and the joy but that she needs to be careful, if she brings The Crazy every single week, she’ll lose the mainstream Idol audience completely. Marcia who hated Chanel with every fibre of her being and Chanel was NEVER as overtly quirky as Brianna is, says she loves that theatrical side and how do you do that song straight, you can’t and I scream at her until I pass out in a blinding rage because I still haven’t forgiven her for hating on Chanel so much. Brianna notes she tried to do it straight in rehearsal and people just shook their head, pursed their lips and said “no, you need to bring the nutty and wear that Queen of Hearts dress and if you also endorsed the chopping off of Holden’s head, well, all the better really.” The BEST bit is when Kyle calls her Beetlejuice and says it’s great but that he just doesn’t get that kind of ‘thing’ and she makes THOUSANDS of people happy by saying she wouldn’t expect him to get it and although she doesn’t quite mean it in the “burn” Michael Kelso sense, it is still mindshatteringly awesome. G tells her it’s sometimes nice when an artist can go to places where they can’t and then Mathieson dryly notes that that was worthy of the price of admission, just seeing Kyle lost for words. Then they both make sure they have enough money on their phones so they can vote a few hundred times each for her.

Rosie Posey Ribbons wants to see if she can be the first performer this semi final season who performs last and doesn’t get in. So she’s singing REMs ‘Everybody ouch the pain the pain this song just goes on and on but at least the clip was cool and so was this song until Party of Five ruined if for me and I just hated Bailey so much it Hurts’ and she’s singing the Charlotte Church version or something because its even slower then it normally bloody is. She also has Diva Hand, where the hand not holding the microphone is held up in a Stop traffic pose and she’s head bobbing at the microphone like she’s about to give it a blow job. And she’s Trilling for Britain. Sing the fucking note on the page as it is written, GOD.

Dicko is confused. What kind of artist does she want to be? Rosie’s really into K T Tunstall right now (and for the love of god, then why didn’t she do ‘Suddenly I See The Devil Wears Prada With Ugly Betty’ or ‘Black Horse, Cherry Tree’?) because she’s moved towards contemporary as she’s gotten older and boyoboy was that EVER the wrong word to use. Dicko pounces on her age because she’s only 24 but it can be argued that she looks . . . slightly older. And she really needs to start thinking about what kind of artist SonyBMG can flog her as and we already have an old Diva and actually, it's her turn to speak. Marcia says she’s going to be as honest as she can, which usually means she hates your guts, stand back Rosie – and oooooh, it turns out Marcia is recording a new coaster and she’s done that song. Ouch. Mother Marcia doesn’t like to share . . . she says she liked it but that the licks were ridiculously too much, back away from the licks, and get to the meaning of the song – and I guess we take from that that Mother Marcia’s version of this song will melt your eyelids, you’ll cry so much feeling her emotion. So it’s not a disco version? Disappointed. Kyle says she sung it well but that he just gets a big boring vibe from her and – always happy to help twist the knife that little bit further – she does look old. Mark’s eyes practically roll back in his head when he mentions the vocal gymnastics, there was also too much slow vibrato and on every line?! No. She gave it no real compassion and it was just professional karaoke. Rosie is gracious in the sweltering smack down of defeat and continues to be quite likeable and personable as she talks to the boys and you can see the interviewing experience from UK Idol has stuck, she’s very good and natural with them.

Well. I would imagine Sarah and either Holly or Brianna would go through – but seeing as someone I like and someone I’m bored by has gotten through on a weak performance every single effing night – that it will be Sarah and Rosie. Sadly, I don’t think Morgan or Madison will get in, nor do I expect them to be allocated one of the eight Wildcards. Those Wildcards should be Mark da Costa, Jack Byrnes, Daniel Misfud, Cheray Doughty, Sally van der Zwart, HotCarl Risely which leaves two places for Holly or Brianna if they don’t go through and maybe . . . I don’t know . . . Dave Andrews? I still want them to bring back Dewayne Everett-Smith.

You suck.

Tut tut.

Australia, dear foolish, misguided stupid Australia. You suck. No, really. You suck. I mean, I get it, I do – Lana is cute, she is in fact unbelievably pretty and don’t get me wrong, she can sing. This isn’t a Laura Gissara situation where a rather mediocre and at times painful singer has been put through to the Top 12 on a pity vote and we’ll be punished week after week as she caterwauls her way through the back catalogue of My Favourite Songs Which I Can Never Ever Listen To Again, Thanks. No. Lana has a good, if slightly unremarkable voice and if she can shake the whole Musical Theatre thing that she’s currently got going, then she might do well, but putting her through over Cheray? Or Sally? You suck, you totally and utterly suck and I’m not talking to you at the moment. Put Ben through tonight and we might be able to try and work this out. Maybe.

Softly spoken pocket rocket Tarasai is put through first and thanks everyone for voting for her - someone may have spoken to her about alienating the Idol watching portion of the audience who don’t want her own personal Jesus shoved down their own personal throats because she wisely leaves Him right out of it. G goes to read out the next name and Mathieson already looks ticked off about what’s coming and even Lana is surprised she got through. She is lovely and gracious to the other girls because she obviously legitimately thought one of them would go through and I can’t dislike her for this, I don’t blame her, I blame YOU. (Well, maybe not YOU you, but the You out there who voted for her . . . oh, you know what I mean.) Let’s just get to the boys, quickly please so I don’t have to look at poor Cheray and Sally anymore – see you at Wildcard girls.

Husky voiced Mark da Costa is tackling Led Zeppelin’s ‘Whole Lotta Love’. He’s left the ubiquitous leather jacket in the car but wisely has neglected to shave for two straight days, giving him that stubbly rocker look that I am a stupid sucker for – if he was wearing a little eye makeup and nail polish, I would be on the floor lying in my own puddle of drool. Fosse calls him “fucking hot” except for the Baby Mullet which has disappointed us both and taken a little of the shine off him – seriously, let's reintroduce conscription so Youths of Today can get decent haircuts and YES, I am also looking at YOU Matt Corby, Marty Simpson and Jack Byrnes. He sings really well and he has a stupendous voice and he growls the FUCK out of this number, but this performance really needs a massive lighter waving, head banging, stoned out of their gourds crowd of deadheads to really make it work. It’s still pretty damn awesome and as rock as I’ve ever seen this show – Chris Murphy’s ‘Evie’ aside.

Marcia reminds us that the Led are her vintage and she can see he enjoyed it and she hopes Australia did. Marcia, Australia just voted Lana in, Australia is currently in a time out and can NOT come out until it apologises and votes in Kevin Rudd, okay? Kyle calls him the real deal but feels like he saw some reserve and caution, inviting everyone on the panel and sitting at home on their couches to immediately jump down his throat and label him a cretinous moron. Mark lauds his brilliant phrasing, his tones and timing but then backhands him by calling it a classic reproduction. Dicko who probably went to high school with Robert Plant and carried his books for him, tells us how The Plant did that song in one take (impressive) and that quite frankly, you don’t fuck with the classics. He then makes love to John Foreman and the band and quite correctly too, because they ROCKED that song, muchly. He also points out to the other contestants that THAT is how you play a gig without a guitar. Mark is chuffed by the judge’s lapdance of ecstacy they’re giving him and Mathieson calls it a cracking start. Can’t get any better, you'd think? You'd be wrong. I was . . .

Before he comes out and sings, I lament once more to Fosse how very very young and wrong for this competition I think adorable little moppet Ben McKenzie is. Awwww, he’s wearing epaulets and wouldn’t look out of place on the cover of Sgt Peppers – he actually reminds Fosse and I of our old housemate PGiddy. I’m guessing that one of his favourite films is Donnie Darko because he’s doing the Gary Jewel version of ‘Mad World’ and I don’t know about that Benny boy, that’s kind of a one note song and if you don’t hit the emotion right it isn’t going to work and see, this is just not the competition for you. Ben doesn’t give a flying fuck about my condescending opinion and deposits a big ol’ heaping of Humble Pie for TallulahBelle to eat by transfixing me. His performance is just about flawless, the rearrangement has given him the opportunity to soar, he gets the emotion just right and I adore him. I throw the words haunting and evocative at Fosse and realise I haven’t blinked since he started singing. Ben? I bow down before you and crown you King

Kyle tells him it’s the first time he’s really cared about him during this whole thing, song choice was perfect and he really believed it. Mark, never one to give when he also has the chance to take away, opens by telling the brilliant young performer we just saw, that he’s a pimply faced little nerd and I seethe. He follows up with deadset star and calls his tones and low end sublime, with his high ends so very clean and pure and compliments a voice as good as Ben’s as being gold for recording and I slightly forgive the nerd comment. Dicko is intrigued by Ben and loved how he took such a different attitude to the song then any other version. Marcia makes it all about her by saying that “us singers, we’re storytellers” but goes on to compliment his light and shade, calling his voice outstanding. Holy fuck. Little dude is awesome and he has leapt the tall building that is my opinion in single bound and landed smack dab in first place on my favourites list.

Jack Byrnes does nothing for me and - urgh - he’s singing a horribly earnest bloody song by a painfully earnest bloody band, U2’s ‘Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For’ and I haven’t learnt from the previous Lesson of Ben because I groan and only just resist the urge to fast forward through his performance and if I had, I would have missed the absolute brilliance that was Jack dancing like a cross between Elaine Benes and David Byrne from Talking Heads and the fantastic singing that he lays on us. He gospels the beginning and then SLAPS a gorgeous soul vibe on it and prances around the damn stage like he owns it, cheekily kicking his feet up and scrunching his coat and good GOD but he is singing this extremely well – I can not fault his vocals at all. And I’m confused because this is three GREAT performances in a row and I thought the first group of boys were meant to be the good ones? Every single one so far tonight has knocked it out of the motherfucking park. Mark, Ben and Jack should all be put through now, we shouldn’t even bother with the voting, just put them through now.

Mark loves his great big clean and soulful voice but thought the performance was too mannered, he sees it as a song about frustration and aggro, but Jack replies to him, it’s a song about joy and frankly yes, Jack is right and Mark is an idiot. Dicko chimes in with the Australia wide chorus of “Shut up, Mark” and calls it a classic case of right artist and right song. Marcia tells Jack that whatever boat it is that Mark missed, she was sitting right there paddling with Jack up the river. It was joyous and she loved the version. Kyle expects everyone to do their damndest at this point to get themselves through and Jack did absolutely that, it was great.

That is three TOUGH acts to follow. Poor Dave Andrews . . . who by the way has perfect Clara Bow lips and I just want to slap Rebel Red by Maybelline on them. He frustrates the hell out of me by picking John Farnham’s “Freedom” but bugger me if he doesn’t actually do a pretty good job. Although the arrangement is a little slow for my taste, it highlights the strengths of his voice and he only really falters at the falsetto.

The judges have been so spoilt for choice that they don’t recognise he actually did a good job. Dicko tells him it was tidy but tentative and when he’s following three powerhouse perfs he has to be better then that. Marcia tells him it was very safe, but that’s okay and she hopes he gets another chance to show Australia what he can do – Marcia, Australia has been banished to its room and may NOT leave until it is ready to accept that what it did was wrong. Kyle says it was a good performance but also somehow a dud? I don’t know, he makes no sense and I’ve stopped listening to him now. Mark agrees that it was a hard thing to follow the first three perfs and that it wasn’t enough. You know - if he’d done this Sunday night with the other guys group? He’d have been hoisted upon their shoulders and carried out of Fox Studio’s on pillows to the sounds of a cheering throng, because it was way better then anything we saw that night. He should be proud and the judges should not make him look like he wants to cry.

Lyall Adams and his dimples have made a dreadful mistake. They’re singing ‘Desperado’ by the Eagles. He loses me with his first tremulous line because this is too church-y. Really, only the Eagles and my friend Boonie can get away with doing this song outside of last call at the local karaoke bar and even then ‘Khe Sanh’ usually gets more votes. Lyall’s vocals let him down and I suspect, arrest, charge and imprison his nerves on some fairly damning evidence, he is breathy and blinking madly. That’s a shame, I thought he was going to rocket through this round . . .

Marcia also saw the nerves and comments she could hear his breathing and then – get this! – she ACTUALLY gives some critical advice! She tells him he needs to put his audience at ease and that he actually made her tense watching him and he needs to relax more. Kyle then gets gross about pants and soiling and I’m still not listening to him. Mark calls the Eagles songs deceptively simple but actually quite difficult to get right and that Lyall didn’t hit any of the emotion of the song and didn’t tell The Story. Dicko tells him to work within his limitations and use his personality to get the job done and that he can make it as a singer if he knows what those limitations are. Mathieson visibly resists the urge to wrap his arms around the poor lad.

Final singer for the boys is Marty Simpson who loves him some Dave Matthews – I totally see him sitting on the beach, stoned and eating cheezels, with his iPod on, listening to some Dave Matthews Band and singing about some ants. Tonight he’s doing The Fray's ‘Over My Head’ and I wish he’d chosen ‘How To Save A Life’ but I still like this song, it’s a good choice for him especially. I notice while he’s singing that he doesn’t know what to do with his spare hand and he has a classic I Usually Hold A Guitar When I Sing pose going on, he doesn’t look as uncomfortable as Lisa Mitchell used to but still, it looks neither natural or fun. He also sings kind of flatly and races ahead of the band a couple of times and I can’t tell if its deliberate or not. It seems to not be which does not bode well for him. Frankly, its not great.

Like me, Kyle initially thought this would be the perfect song choice for him but unlike me, Kyle thinks that he did a great job. Whatever Sandilands, you and I? We’re done. Mark tells him he has a high likeability factor and excellent tones when he sings but it all just felt too end of day, surfy, huddled ‘round a campfire – see he should have done some DMB. Marty has Dicko’s favourite voice in the whole competition – meh – and he actually listens to Marty’s audition CD’s – aww, cute – and jokes that he sits outside his house watching him come and go – heeeeeee. Dicko sternly tells His Favourite that he should have made more of the song. Mathieson and G are also heartily OVER Marcia and try to just move on to the closing credits, but Dicko foils their dastardly plan and she opines that they’re all making her feel like she isn’t there . . . we wish, Marcia. She tells him it was great song choice but you know you can do better and blah blah blah aren’t you glad she got to tell him that? I would have been bereft without her sage words of ‘advice’.

As the boys wrap things up, two things hit me; 1) I must watch Ben’s performance several more times and 2) Jack Byrnes TOTALLY reminds me of Bill Oddie from the Goodies. If he doesn’t kick it through tonight and has to be Wildcarded I am BEGGING him to do Funky Gibbon. But really the two tonight should be Ben McKenzie and either Jack Byrnes or Mark da Costa because honestly they all deserve to go through. Dave is the alternate and Lyall and Marty should only be allowed Wildcards. Seriously Australia, if you put Lyall or Marty through based on their performances I will END you. Take me seriously, I am short but I am FEISTY.

Final group of girls consist of two of my faves, Holly and Breanna, the spunky Sarah, rosycheeked Rosie, angelvoiced Morgan and Mystery Girl Madison.

Girls! Girls! Girls!

Oh yes, it’s Ladies night which is Marcia’s favourite night because she gets to let loose with music industry pearls of wisdom, such as ‘sister girlfriend’ and ‘you go girl’. It’s a little known fact but Mother Marcia is allowed to mentor and dress one Idol Girl and one Idol Boy each year and this year the girl she’s chosen is Tarasai. This explains the only slightly dead looking ‘thing’ Tarasai had looped over her shoulders and I must admit when I saw her wearing that at the start of the show, I got a whole Thunderdome vibe and was CONVINCED she was going to come out singing ‘We Don’t Need Another Hero’. And we all know Marcia is dressing Matt Corby as well, which is why he’s wearing another bloody silly tablecloth around his neck.

But let’s get on with it. Our hosts go straight to the Sensible Judge and ask Dicko what he thought of last night and he rightly tells the boys to collectively pull their vocal socks up. G doesn’t bother asking any of the other judges – because really, Daddy’s back and we don’t need to bother the others anymore – and leaps straight into telling Matt Corby that he’s through. Matt is the only person in Australia remotely surprised by this, and he is roundly applauded and hugged by all. He is joined by – huzzah! – Jacob Butler, who is suitably chuffed, although slightly lost for words. He rallies and offers to compensate those who voted for him and I just quietly may need to send him a bill.

First girly cab off the rank is Sally My Surname Is Too Ludicrously Long And TallulahBelle Just Made It Even Longer For The Sake Of A Not That Terribly Funny Joke van der Zwart and she’s – oooooh – she’s singing Kelly Clarkson’s ‘Never Again’. Tough, tough song. She does this really quite well, hitting all those big KC notes, whilst managing to inject a suitable amount of bitchiness into it, because it is a very catty hell hath no fury song. (Interesting song choice with Ms Jesse Curran also singing tonight . . . but we’ll get to that.) Sally’s stagecraft is a little unpolished but quite frankly, she’s already blown the boys from last night OUT of the water and on to the beach and they're lying there gasping for air and flapping their fins frantically. I may have taken that analogy too far, although Daniel Misfud's hair is 'wavy' - get it?! - and oooh, maybe the scarf is hiding gills . . . NOW, I've taken that analogy too far. So. Judges? Thoughts?

Kyle thinks she has star potential but just needs to work on her nerves and get a little polish. Marcia said she was just so calm and centred back stage, with her own invisible Kotex shield and well done girlfriend (you need to imagine that every time she says “girlfriend” I sigh so hard that it causes a tornado in Kansas). Dicko has an attitude about contestants covering Idol songs and makes a lovely remark about how they’re creating some weird mutant pop monster that’s beginning to devour its young and BY GOD we have missed you, sir. Never leave us again Dicko, never! Mark calls Dicko narrowminded and uses Missy Higgins as an example of how snobby the ‘real’ industry is about Idol (reportedly there are signs up at the auditions reminding contestants that Missy has forbidden Idol to use her music because she has conveniently forgotten that she won a music contest on JJJ). He asks Dicko to just tell her she sang a crap song (which, true, it ain’t a great song) but that she did it really well (also true).

The fabulous Natalie Gauci is up next and my heart will break if she isn’t ace – we’ve seen how well this chick arranges so please god, let her not do a carbon copy of Xtina’s song ‘Hurt’, make it yours Natalie . . . oh. Sigh. That tinkling noise you hear is the remnants of my shattered heart falling to the floor because she is . . . not . . . great, it’s actually kind of shrieky and paradoxically also not powerful enough. I wish she’d arranged it differently, I feel like this really could have worked for her but it didn’t.

Marcia goes straight to song choice, how Xtina is one of the finest singers in pop today (I would argue, finest pop sing ever) and tells her she “cut that” – now initially, I thought this was Marcia’s GhettoTalk for 'bad' but it turns out, she thought it was great and I would recommend upping the dosage, Marcia. Dicko tells Natalie that just because you think you can, doesn’t always mean you should, and that she went suburban – agreed, she shouldn’t be trying to be That Girl, we have enough That Girl’s, we want That Other Girl, thanks. Mark calls it a monster song and says he didn’t know she had that kind of control and that her tones, shades and falsetto were all superb – is my tv broken, is that why I thought she tanked and they loved it? Kyle backs me up by telling her that it was a pretty good job but that everytime she went around the corner, she clipped the gutter, that it wasn’t very smooth and then gives sartorial advice about not wearing satin pants on high def. Good point, that.

Cheray Doughty needs to pick me up from the disappointment of Natalie and Joss Stone’s ‘Tell Me About It’ is a DAMN fine start. Okay her dancing is slightly daggy but her vocals are GREAT. She bops around the stage, completely involving the audience there as well as at home and she sings the hell out of this number – yay!

Dicko asks wide eyed where she pulled that rabbit from, calling the performance cheeky and noting that she played with it but it didn’t become cheesy (and nobly resists the urge to firmly say “Husny” here). Mark has been worried that Cheray might be too Olivia Newton-John but says that, in actual fact, she’s a hot tomato. Cheray is wonderfully not in any way offended about the Olivia remark and even busts out a little ‘Let’s Get Physical’ – hah! Love her! Marcia smiles and says she’s liked Cheray from the beginning – so apparently, she wins that contest – and that she whispered to Kyle that she likes this chick because she doesn’t sound how she looks . . . and I’m pretty sure Cheray should be offended by that, but she laughs gamely and doesn’t sneer at Marcia’s wig, like I would. Kyle agrees that she’s great, she knows what she can do and she does it.

Tarasai Don’t Hate Me Because I’m A Jesus Loving Belter Vushe is next and please by all that is holy, don’t let her be singing Whitney . . . ooh, she’s doing ‘River Deep, Mountain High’, formerly known as the Song Owned By RickiLee and which is now, the Song Jointly Owned By RickiLee and Tarasai, because this is kind of awesome. She gospels the start and when she cr-ACKS into the big voice rock bit, she is seven different kinds of cool. Yes, she’s got the yell-y singing going on that I hate but she isn’t slapping me around the face with it, it’s not permeating every single note that she’s singing, she’s respecting the song and she’s just freaking nailing it. THIS is the kind of performance that GUARANTEE’S you a Top 12 slot.

Mark calls her the miniMarcia, a force of nature, loves her control and power but he keeps thinking Cosima and can she keep that level of performance without hurting her vocal cords? To be fair, didn’t Cosima herself say she sang with a sore throat which exacerbated the whole problem? Tarasai sagely nods that yes she can. She’s strangely confident whilst also this meek little thing at the same time – weird. Kyle tells her mum that she should be very proud of her powerhouse beautiful child, and tells her she’s great and she should continue to soar. Marcia is chuffed that Tarasai started at one and moved her up to eleven – so of course, Mark has to interrupt and disagree that she in fact started at eleven and went up to thirty three and shut up, Mark, god. Marcia advises Tarasai to just always ignore Holden – ahhhh, if only we could ALL do that, Marcia, if only. Dicko confesses that she fascinates him, the competition needs her and big notes win votes. He also says he likes her because she’s barking mad and once more, awesome call sir.

Okay. Jesse Curran. Yes, she is dating James Blundell. Yes, reportedly he left his wife and kids for her, but you know whose business this is? NO ONE BUT THEIRS. Let’s leave the muck racking and slander slinging outside of the Reality Tv Show about SINGING, shall we? Let’s concentrate on her bad BAD choice of song, U2’s ‘One’ which works only when Bono sings it with Mary J Blige and even then, I’m kind of over it. She sings this well, but like Junior the night before, it’s waaaaay too pretty, too soprano-high-standing-in-front-of-the-boys-choir-on-the-stage-live-on-KerriAnne. It’s midday music. She gives it more of a country feel towards the end and I wish she’d arranged the whole song this way.

Kyle wanted to be blown away by Jesse (oh, I wish, here’s a shotgun with which to make that happen) but it was a little too Julie (Andrews, as in the hills are aliiiiiiiive) for him. Marcia calls it a polite performance and alludes to what’s going on in her personal life and shut it Marcia. Mark and Dicko point out that her foot is currently protruding from her mouth and Marcia calls them the Kings of Innuendo. Actually Marcia, they weren’t hinting, they were flat out telling you you’re an idiot for bringing it up. Kyle tells Mark to shut the fuck up and let Marcia talk her turn and stop stealing other people’s time and sometime Kyle, you are the Voice of Reason. Hear hear. Dicko says he knows she’s had a tough week and refers back to the history of the song and this is why I love him, he loves the background details, the minutiae of music and where it comes from – hence his horror Season Two when no one but Chanel and Courtney knew the Beatles. He didn’t like the rewriting of the song – Jesse says it’s the Johnny Cash version and now the country bit makes sense. Mark loved the fresh feel of the arrangement but is disappointed to hear it isn’t hers and he felt the lament and pain of the song suited her. But he comments that she never really hit the pitch, she slid up to the notes and kind of missed them, never really hitting the bullseye. She takes it all well and is lovely and bubbly – don’t hold the bullshit gossip mongering against her, just the lacklustre performance . . .

Lana Musical Theatre Krost loves Jewel and has over imitated the trademark Jewel quaver and fuck me, she’s singing Fergie’s ‘Big Girls Don’t Cry’. Sweet baby jeebus – oy. I can’t listen to this song on the radio because of the line ‘I’m going to miss you like a child misses its blanket’ because – the fuck? What the fuck kind of lyrics are those? What eight year old wrote those? Those are some seriously AWFUL lyrics and that line ruins the ENTIRE song for me, I have to sing la la la la everytime she gets to that bit and I often just change the station instead of bothering. This is NOT the right kind of song for someone Lana’s age to be singing either, its about a really fucked up chick who needs to be on her own because she has some issue pertaining to her childhood or something. You don’t GET that at 17, hell you’ve barely given UP your blankie at 17. Stupid choice, stooooopid. And she doesn’t get it at all, she meanders across the stage with stiff Musical Theatre arm and hand waving in a hideous white puffy dress thing, she puts zero passion in the song and it is pure elevator music. She sings every note correctly, but like Daniel Misfud the night before, it is b-l-a-n-d.

Marcia tells her she looks like a picture – a picture of what exactly Marcia? One of those dolls you put over your toilet paper? – and then says she picked a perfect song for her age group – WHAT? I believe this is the earliest in any season of Idol where Marcia has officially lost the right to speak to contestants anymore. Dicko loves me more than Marcia and tells her it was a bad choice and whilst he is desperate for the other contestants to learn, he wants her to Unlearn as her default position is too mannered. Ad nauseam repeat, but I FUCKING love him. She is too High School Musical. Mark tells her that she is a very pretty little girl with a very pretty little voice. That is ALL that he says. He is patronisingly dismissive. Ass. Kyle has seen her sing better than that and that song needs to be sung sexier (and by an older woman.) Marcia asks her to rough herself up and Dicko tells her to smack Kyle in the face. Australians countrywide stand up and applaud.

James and G – who have not been NEARLY as witty as they were the previous night, sigh – once again ignore all the other judges to ask Dicko’s Final Thoughts. He tells them it’s a world of difference making it to the Top 12 then it is making it to Top 24 and then drops the bombshell that SonyBMG have insisted that only one contestant – the winner, obviously – will be getting a contract this year. I scoff loudly and doubt that very much, but just in case, I give dibs to my current favourites; Jacob, Sarah, Sally, Breanna, Mark, little Ben or Cheray.

Tuesday is Mark, Lyall, Dave, Ben, Jack and Marty. I can only see Mark and Lyall going through from that group – adorable though Ben may be . . . and my money’s on Tarasai and Cheray to go through from the girls. Maybe Sally. Let’s see, shall we?

It's like we're dating or something.

Brilliant! Top 24! Semi’s! Actual singing! Huzzah! It’s enough to make me giddy with anticipation and excitement because this is going to rock, right? They’ve overloaded the first male semi final with arguably the six most talented of the boys so this is going to be The Shit, yeah? Awesome!

That was me at the start of the night. Now, I am not a naïve or youthful idealist, no. I have a Bachelor of Arts, I am a woman used to disappointment, I'm single, I live with more than one cat, I know the pang of missed opportunites and hollow crushing failure. But I have never felt so betrayed – and by six guys all at the same time? It’s a new low Idol, a new low. And things, started out so very well because can I say, Andrew G in high definition is just so very pretty. And Mathieson’s trousers? Quite pleasantly tight around the crotch-el region – I am NOT a perv, Fosse noticed as well. Mark launches into the FANTASTIC news that Irish has made Idol history as the first one to have consecutive Number One albums on the Aria charts. I scream hysterically and immediately apologise to Abel who has taken to hiding in his bedroom when Idol is on. I also can’t find either of the cats. I’m not THAT loud, guys.

We quickly move on to our first SemiFinalist of the night, young Matt Corby who is keeping alive the tradition of someone singing Stevie Wonder in the SFs, by giving us ‘I Wish’, a pop tribute to being completely skint but okay with that. Frankly, I think Matt would have to stand on stage and vomit blood to the tune of Pop Goes The Weasel, to do any harm whatsoever to his actual chances of getting through. That being said as the first singer up, he ain’t exactly ringing my bell. Nor is he knocking on my door or tapping on my window, hell, he isn’t even walking down my driveway. He’s stopped at the end of my street staring at the sun, looking confused and eventually giving up and pulling a Joey from Friends and standing in the map so he can work out which way is North. Someone may have to give him a compass. That would explain why he’s stolen Yasser Arafat’s scarf, he thinks he’s in the desert – or has Marcia lent him a pashmina from the Mother Marcia Collection? He’s a little weak and flat in places and doesn’t have a great performing ‘vibe’ about him. Is it Singing First Up nerves? They can be killer. But there’s no blood or vomit and the crowd goes nuts, so he’s golden.

Mark liked his phrasing, pitch, falsetto (which I thought was lousy) but chides him on song choice and "knowing your lyric". Dicko stomps his feet and sulks about having to be seated next to Holden who will be stealing ideas from his brain all night, forcing him to look like he’s constantly agreeing with a man who can’t finish a Join The Dots drawing of a balloon. Marcia doesn’t know what either of them are talking about because she loves the young boys who sing Stevie whilst wearing tablecloths jauntily swung around their necks. Kyle takes up Mark and Dicko’s side, telling him he needs to live the lyrics more and that it looked like a dress rehearsal.

Unknown quantity Junior To’o is appealing to my massive hard on for anyone who slams George fucking Bush, by singing Pink’s ‘Dear Mr President’. But he immediately loses all points for song choice by RnBing the HELL out of it. He takes all the angry punch out of the song, singing it prettily. Prettily, Junior? Why must you hurt me so? This is a highly politicised pissed off song – have you seen Pink sing it? She has major jacked off face, furrowed angry brow and mean sneering lip going on and just because we aren’t American doesn’t mean we don’t get the anger – I personally have been pissed at Dubbya since he stole the election from President Gore, but don’t get me started – that’s a long angry rant I’ve done before. But Junior, where is the message? Where is the point of this song?

Dicko opens with a choice joke about young boys and bush that no one in the audience gets so he quickly moves on to pointing out the spite and defiance that Pink infuses this particular song with and seriously, the first few times I heard this song I couldn’t get through it without tearing up a little bit. (Shut up.) Marcia didn’t mind the lack of political stance and thought he put his own stamp on it and Kyle doesn’t give a flying fuck about political leanings in songs and I just hate that. Mark (who I remember SLAMMING DeadtomeOnetrickponyLee for not caring about the politics of Greenday’s ‘Holiday’) doesn’t care about the politics of this song and thinks he did make it his own. Bah. He also comments that it’s nice to have an RnB singer not oversinging and overlicking – which I heartily agree with and which gives Mathieson the opportunity to comment that “we’re glad you stayed away from overlicking”. Hah! Honestly, can we get James nominated for a Nobel prize or something? At the least, can we get him knighted? Get the boy an OBE, stat.

Sidebar : how much am I looking forward to Californication? Lots.

HotCarl Risely – huzzah! If they keep showing him playing the trumpet, he has my vote for life. Ohhhh, ouch. He has wisely chosen some more Michael Buble, but has sadly chosen his least jazzy song, ‘Home’. But happily, he suits it quite well, his tones are sweet. His nervousness shows in eyelash fluttering and a little microphone flute playing – but he quickly recovers his ground and grows more confident as the song goes on. He does have some weakness around some of the higher notes and this performance probably leans more toward vocal mimicry than pure singing but its my favourite so far. His voice has the same honeyed quality as Buble and Buble is VERY popular in this country, even if Carl could really use some more training – his voice is sweet, but I don’t know if its Idol. Also, in surprising news, he is hot (and I noticed last night, he has a bit of David Boreanaz from Buffy and Angel in him, especially around the eyes and eyebrows).

Marcia thinks he did it justice, fine singer, good intonation – even with the nerves. Kyle tells him he’s a beautiful looking man (amen) but that he was at about 70% and wants him to go hard. There is some mock flirting between the two and I like you Carl, but if you make me think about Kyle and sex ever again, we are through. I don’t like to think of Sandilands procreating one day, thanks very much. Mark thought the phrasing was a little bit imitative (get OUT of my head Holden, it freaks me out when you do that) but that he got a bit thin around the hook. Dicko says its not exactly man overboard, but neither is it a 21 gun salute, why set yourself up as the Swing Guy and then do the most RnB song that Buble does? (I am okay with Dicko being in my head). Song choice = Here’s where I stand as an artist. Dicko calls Idol viewers ‘musical tourists’ who need to know straight up who you are.

Daniel Misfud either has some horrific pox scarring on his neck that he’s covering up or he has a symbiotic relationship with the polycotton blend used by Australian scarfmakers. He is doing Diesel’s ‘Tip of my Tongue’ and I pre-emptively dislike it. His hair is coiffed. My first thought is that this would be better if he was playing the guitar himself. As it is, its kind of boring and a little . . .greasy. He just looks so damned pleased with himself. He sings it fine, but I’m finding him cheesy. Fosse thinks he may just be a really nice guy. I hate his song choice, I hate his stupid scarf and I am bored by him. B-l-a-n-d. Snore.

Mark calls him another strong contender who has underwhelmed by being too safe. Dicko grits his teeth and agrees again, saying Idol needs big moments (Casey singing ‘Here’s Where I Stand’, Chanel’s ‘Glory Box’, Callea’s ‘Prayer’ all nod and agree) but that this was pedestrian. Marcia thinks he did well and looked like he was enjoying himself and that he doesn’t have to give eleven every week, at which point Mark argues that he should give his all EVERY week (and is completely right, shut up Marcia). Kyle thinks Dicko and Mark may have confused him and Daniel attempts to defend his perf which leads to Kyle berating him for being dull. I wonder if maybe Daniel has been paying too much attention to the press who think he and Matt will get through and are on good odds to win the whole shebang and decided to just be safe this week.

Hold on to your makeup bags ladies, Husny Thalib is in the house and he’s wearing your best pantyhouse and stolen your eyeliner. He may just currently be my favourite Idol, I almost don’t care if he can sing or not, I just need his outlandish dress sense and the accoutrements that come with him. G says he’s wearing a cassingle of Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch around his neck. Okay, we need a knighthood for G as well. Husny is singing Lenny Kravitz’s ‘If You Can’t Say No’. I don’t know this song at all but I suspect that doesn’t matter because I’m transfixed by his dancing and when he crotch thrusts in time with the music about halfway through, I lose my shit giggling gleefully. Dude is entertaining but he’s relying on too many tricks – the dancing is detracting from some weak vocals and really shit song choice. Oh, the judges are going to crucify him.

Kyle hated it and calls it lame, try hard, rubbish and camp. Mark loved most of it, loved the arrangement (which is apparently really different to the original and if so, then bravo – he’s the only one who arranged his song), calls him a trip and says he finds him strangely attractive. Dicko calls him an intriguing character but calls him out on poor song choice – yes! – because most viewers aren’t going to know that song and it’s not like he took a Portishead song and freaking rocked the performance giving the audience absolutely no choice but to put him through -right, Chanel? Marcia tells him not to underestimate the viewers and starts another argument with Mark about giving only drips and drabs to start with. Mark takes the opinion that that is no good if he’s not here next week and has wasted his only opportunity.

Jacob Hit Him Baby,One More Time Butler is singing Snow Patrol’s ‘Chasing Cars’. His package shows him singing ‘Across The Universe’ again and I bark at the screen “no, bad Jacob, bad”. He overenunciates as he sings but this is a smart song choice – didn’t EVERYONE love this song? He’s got crazy nervous blinking going and I did not expect that from someone with such performance experience. He sings it quite well, he has the best voice of the night, I think, even if he does seem to be buckling under the pressure slightly.

Dicko talks about how Jacob’s background in reality shows relates to the song because of his dogged (get it? because dogs chase cars – HAH!) pursuit of The Career Through Reality Television, and then tells him his disbelief in his own ability to make it, is showing. He’s right, because if you’d tried as many times and as long as Jacob has tried, it becomes tougher to know you can do something the longer you try. You’re always starting over – my credit card payment scheme is EXACTLY the same. Marcia loves his song choice, Kyle tells him how much they already like him from the ‘other places’ they’ve seen him and by god, they are VERY careful not to say either ‘X’ or ‘Factor’, but that he needs to clear his mind, and Mark talks about the difficulty of doing that particular song due to the saturation by FM radio stations of anything vaguely connected with Grey’s Anatomy and the fact that it starts in a particular place and kind of stays there, there isn’t a real big build or dramatic moment. Still, I like the song, it evokes an emotion with me and I loved how he ended it so abruptly, it suited the song.

So. A mixed, rather disappointing bag, really. Only HotCarl and the antics of Husny made that episode memorable. There was no real standout, from a singing point of view, of course Husny stood out for everyone but that happens when you go to a Klu Klux Klan meeting dressed as the cast of the Cosby Show, or visit your local children’s centre wearing an evil clown costume dripping in blood (although technically you don't need the blood, as all clowns are evil). People remember you and not always for the right reasons. Probably just based on the fact that Matt and Daniel are very popular with the girly vote, it will probably be them through tonight, but based on performance, I would like to see HotCarl and Jacob make it through – however if they don’t, I have no concerns that they won’t both be Wildcarded.

Don’t underestimate the fey vote though, don’t be taken too far aback if Husny surprises the living hell out of all of us and crotch thrusts his way into the Top 12.

Girls tonight – Natalie, Sally, Tarasai, Cheray, Lana and Jesse - and I suspect they will quietly kick boy bottom . . .

Ask me why I'm angry and I will punch you.

Here we go. Finally! Cutting the dross down to the Semi Finalists. Let’s cut right to the chase, let's kick this puppy and how!

Sixty three are left to be put through the mean, nasty, psychosis inducing process of one on one yes/no drawn out interviews with the judges. They’re putting through 12 guys and 12 girls – sucks if you’re that 13th guy who is massively more talented then the 12th girl they put through. I call that guy Dewayne Everett-Smith. I also call the judges massive tools.

Tarasai Vushe and her big, booming Gift From God voice, is the first girl through. Her solo performance is waaaaaaay oversung but I do enjoy the vaguely gospel-ly aspects of it, and when she pauses after BELTING a note, to cheekily ask if the audience heard her, she gets a laugh from them and me. Keep the humour, love but slow down on the Praise Jesus and the bigger then Ben Hur notes and we’ll get along fine. (Also – never again match your eye shadow to your top. The Fug Girls will fug you like they fugged Amali.)

Daniel Misfud is up next and no-one really thinks this guy isn’t getting through, right? It’s not backwards day or anything. His solo perf is laid back and Irish has been kind enough to lend him the Idol Falsetto. That’s sweet. Now go and buy his CD. Now, bitches.

Both Mildura girls Jesse Curran and Holly Weinert go in together because omigod, they are like so totally the same person, can you even tell them apart because I know I can't, they are such total bookends!! I mean, they're like both TOTALLY blonde and both really good singers and both from Mildura!! Totally!! For real!! Maybe they’re related?!! Oh my god, are they twins??!! Stupid show. I personally prefer Jesse’s voice, she has a gorgeous natural quaver going on. Holly’s solo was ‘Blackbird’ (by way of the Sarah McLachlan version, I believe) and I have to say, I didn’t care for it at all but that’s more about the arrangement and less about her voice.

WA boy Mustard gets knocked back. He takes it gracefully. This will be a recurring theme until we hit Jasmine.

Cat eyed Brianna Carpenter is still my current fave (go check out her Myspace page, her original shit is AWESOME). She thinks she’s quirky and I’m not sure if it’s because she’s self aware or a little pretentious. Time will tell. Hope it’s the former. She wants the show to embrace left of centre and you can practically see Marcia’s hackles rise there because she can smell Eau De Chanel Cole – and that ain’t one of Mother Marcia’s favourite things, boys and girls. Through clenched and gritted teeth, Marcia tells her she’s in.

Dylan Yeandle's cheeky passion and actually quite awesome rendition of The Cure’s ‘Love Cats’ isn’t enough to get him through the SemiFinal door. He is heartbroken but I am glad to see that his often previewed hissy fit moment of shoving a glass off a table is done in light (broken)hearted jest. Bravo on taking it so well, young sir.

HotCarl Risely the trumpeter is up next and I have to pause the tape and clean up the mouthful of pasta that goes flying across the room when Mathieson says that his horn is his best friend. Dudes, seriously? The trumpet is SO very very hot. His solo includes both the playing of the trumpet and tilting his chiselled jaw at us. His biceps also do a lovely thing when he shakes the judges hands (pausing to kiss Kyle’s – eww, you do not know where that thing has been) after they put him through. You know, sometimes I just plain forget he’s here to sing . . .

Cheray Doughty is another of my favourites right from her first audition. Her solo is the usually career killing Four Non Blondes ‘What’s Going On’ but her version is gorgeous in its restraint and I loudly applaud her arranging skills. She is overjoyed to make it through and it’s at this point that I notice young Ben McKenzie is one of the first to hug whoever comes out from panel.

Jordan You Can Never Be Too Orange Paris, is wearing a white suit that is colour co-ordinated to his teeth. His flashbacks remind me that, crazy suits and overtanning aside, he doesn’t have a terrible voice but he cheesily overperforms ‘Right Here Waiting’ for his solo and as much as thinks he is in, he isn’t. His lip literally quivers and my cold bitchy heart breaks a little for him.

The silky voiced motherfucking awesomeness of Dewayne Everett-Smith doesn’t get through. I’m so FUCKING FURIOUS about that, that I can’t even LOOK at the judges without wanting to punch every single one of them in the middle of the throat. They ask him to come back next year and Marcia is crying and I scream at him to PUNCH THEM DEWAYNE, PUNCH THEM HARD.

Johnny Depp impersonator Husny Thalib strangely chose my favourite karaoke song ‘Torn’ for his solo performance. It’s not bad. It’s not great though he is definitely individual and completely different to anyone else in the competition. There’s a place for him in the Semi’s. (BUT NOT FOR DEWAYNE. NEED TO PUNCH SOMEONE SOOOO HARD).

Our favourite nutter Jasmine Anderson, who I still thought was a dead cert to get through based on her original audition and her solid solo perf of ‘Lean On Me’, obviously pushed her luck waaaay too far with her group shenanigans and even her tearful mea culpa to panel will help her now. She FABULOUSLY loses her shit (and although it’s for herself, I like to think a little of it was for Dewayne). It is a hissy fit worthy of Joan Collins in Dynasty, circa 1984. I fully expected her to throw a glass of whisky in Mark’s face and have a catfight in a waterfountain with Marcia with both of them wearing ear high shoulder pads – come on, you know Marcia could lend her something without even having to get clothing out of storage. Call her crazy, but chick can still totally rock out a tune. But, yeah, killer fatigue. Killer.

Wonderful little crooner Sarah Lloyde, who made the Top 100 in 2005 but has never gotten any further, giggles giddily when she gets in. Awwww, she's cute. And friends with Jacob.

Group Nicole, Tim, Nikki and Chad go in together and are all told no. Time saving, I likey. Me no likey? When the next group brought in, which consists of Annabel, Daniel, Shaye and Jack Byrnes is told that it's a no. Except for one of you. So that's, let me see - amazing low. Followed by amazing speculative scary potential high. And then amazing bottoming like a drunk out of three dollar hooch low for the three people who aren't Jack. It's like a quick lesson in what its like to have bipolar disorder. Cruel, show.

MiniJohnButler, shaggy haired and over eyebrowed Marty Simpson sings Tom Petty's 'Won't Back Down'. It's got a laid back beachy feel to it and he has a pretty good voice, but he isn't impressing the judges with his personality. He however, is still in. I am still pissed about Dewayne.

Like Daniel before him, Matt I Am NOT Dean Geyer Mark II Corby doesn't really need to be put through this rigmarole bullshit we're so sorry but we have to . . . put you in! Hah! Faked you out totally, right? Please. Don't waste our motherfucking time. Now, I put it to you that the kid has a good voice (he's sixteen, he's sixteen) and is pretty cute. But I'm making the call now - he'll make the Top 12, of course he will. He won't win. Brand me foolish. Laugh at me if you will, but like Anthony Callea and Dean Geyer before him, the tween vote won't be enough. He'll need to persuade us oldies, we control the Idol vote, this ain't Big Brother. If Tim Brunero could sing, he'd have cakewalked Idol.

Let's move on to Ben McKenzie, adorable little ragamuffin who is told they think he's too young (he's the same freaking age as the last guy you saw, wankers, but yes, he IS too young and so is Matt . . . ) He's in. I will spend his performance biting my nails worrying about him. God.

Jacob Butler, oh you silly silly boy, 'Across The Universe'? Do you not know that Chanel Cole fucking owns the Idol rights to this song? And no one else is allowed to sing it. Ever. Don't make me hurt you - if you come on the show and do 'Constant Craving' or 'History Repeating' I will have to break your arm. They put him through and he runs outside straight into the arms of Ben McKenzie - seriously, that kid is getting body time with everyone.

Joining the ranks of cute girls through is Natalie Gauci who kicks ass with her own version of 'Crazy'. She's very very cute, I love her scarf and she knows how to sing a song at her loudest and proudest without strangling the notes. I like more of the girls this season. Some really good voices.

Rather pretty Lyall Adonis makes me like The Verves 'Drugs Don't Work'. It's lovely and restrained - I'm a big fan of restraint, its more emotional than the belting the living hell out of and oversinging vocal gymnastics favoured by 'big' singers like Tarasai. I'm relieved we appear to only have one of them this season. He is through and my goodness, we DO have some hottie boys this season. Yowzah.

It's 4.30 fucking am before they get to the final two girls. Dude, that sucks. It's not good for your nerves to be tortured for that long - can we get the Geneva Convention altered or the UN on to this or something? The last two are Rosie Ribbons and Cyndi Dietrich and I'm sorry Cyndi, but Rosie is amazing, you have to know going in that it's her and not you. Rosie's voice is just great and she didn't make Top Six of UK Idol for nothing. Cyndi sang Sarah McLachlan's 'Angel' and again, why do a song that a previous Idol (in this case, Hayley) owned? Silly. Redundant. Rosie sang 'Stand By Me', a song that I'm not thrilled by for this kind of competition and I hope her song choice is better at the semi's, but when Marcia asks Rosie what this means to her, her answer is perfect in her simplicity; "I don't believe that I'm not supposed to sing". That's how you acknowledge destiny or fate and praise whatever higher power you believe in. Rosie goes through, Cyndi is understandably sad and I note that not one of Jasmine's group got through.

The last two boys to see panel are Dave Andrews (who is keeping his daughter up at 4.30 am, bad daddy!) and James Davies. Both guys are quite good singers, both with their own unique qualities and although they tell James that he's the one they think is ready, they put Dave through. I'm ambivalent about this one, I must admit. I don't think Dave will make it past the semi's and I'm still just red rage coma inducingly pissed that they didn't put Dewayne in. Remember season one, when they brought that guy back who made it to the top 100 but not the semi's? I don't remember his name, but they Wildcarded him, maybe they'll see the error of their ways and Wildcard Dewayne. Otherwise, someone needs to be punched. Punched.

Oh, and as usual we didn't get to see some people who made it to the Semi's - this year they completely ignored Junior To'o, Mark da Costa, Sally van der Zwart, Lana Krost, Madison Pritchett and Morgan Hosking. So odds are, as no one knows who they are, unless they ROCK the hell out of their semi final perfomance, they won't make it to the Top 12.

Sunday night, the boys are up first - Matt (dead cert), Jacob, Lyall, Daniel (dead cert), Husny and HotCarl.

Daniel Johns made zero (0) friends today

It’s the Seymour Centre? Already? Really? Didn’t that both fly by and crawl painfully? Idol Contestant Hopefuls about to have their dreams crushed out of them like so many fingers caught in a garlic press, bound gaily into Australian Idol Sponsored Mazda’s and marvel at the many sights Sydney has to offer. I marvel at the rather significant amount of them who appear to not be wearing their seatbelts as they gad about town. Then I tut. Then I realise that I just channeled my mother and get the full blown body creeps. (love you Mamma, hola!)

Never one to suffer large numbers gladly, Mark Holden immediately breaks the news that because his abacus broke and he counted his toes too many times, they accidentally put a smidgen too many untalented fools through and like kangaroo’s in the outback, there’s a cullin' a comin'. Forty of the least likely to make it through are told to sack up or go home, and I would argue that if they’re that unlikely to make it to the Semi Finals, here’s a revolutionary idea – DON’T SEND THEM TO SYDNEY IN THE FIRST PLACE.
MOTHERFUCKERS.

For real, forty really excited singers who legitimately thought they were in with a chance to soar the dizzying heights of Idol fame, who didn’t sleep for the WEEK before they flew in to Sydney, who told EVERYONE they know that, yes, they made it to the Top 100; didn’t even get to raid their mini bars properly. They now have to go home and tell their parents, their friends, their singing teachers, that no, they weren’t good enough. I imagine that probably stung slightly, don’t you?

Mixing madness in his method, Holden DARED to put HotTrumpeterCarl Risely in this Bottom 40 – but success! He Harry Connick Jr’s much more successfully then he Michael Buble’d – put him through!! They can keep at least four and still have a Top 100!! All ten of the first group get return tickets home; lone Anthony Newcote is the only one from group two; two unnamed lasses from group three and then Kyle Chorus Line’s group four and the people in the front line go home. They all look, understandably, pissed. HotCarl is safe. Phew.

Solo line singing for the rest . . . Daniel Misfud and his bouncy hair don’t sing Green Limousine nearly as well as Chanel, I don’t care how hot Fosse thinks he is. Sarah Lloyde and Sally van der Zwart (that ain’t going to work across an album cover, love) both sound fantastic singing Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy and Tennessee Waltz, respectively. All three singers make it through and I comment to Eupholoofo that we’ve already seen more singing in the first twenty mins then we did ALL last season Seymour Centre.

Singer after singer attempts to screech their way through instead of singing and unsurprisingly, that doesn’t so much work. Mark DaCosta rocks the living HELL out of Evie – damn, Idol is determined to make me like this song, isn’t it? Morgan Hosking sings some hauntingly gorgeous melody and if anyone knows what that was, please email me! Jacob Butler is letting his growl out and Euph is not ashamed to report that he has made her knees tremble since his X Factor days. I see it, but do not share it.

Casey Marangon-Elliot’s quite well performed number gets slammed by Kyle and starts an argument about song choice in which the conclusion is; Kyle Knows Jack Shit. We are all astonishment.

Shamara-Lea Hassett does not sing as well or look as comfortable as she did during her sit in audition, she looks like she hungers to have her guitar in her hands and gets herself sent home along with roughly twenty three others as we are left with a grand total of seventy seven – yes, 77 – still to torture.

Mathieson and G stand in the cold Sydney rain as Euph and I launch ourselves at the tv wanting to give them both hugs – G needs a hug! Look he’s cold, vegans have no body fat! I have body fat! Hug me G!! I’m warm blooded!

Holden breaks the apparently awful news that the group songs will be unisex. Yeah? So? And then that they won’t have any help from John Foreman or Erana Clark. Right. Well, now I call bullshit. This fucking process is obviously difficult enough, so why – WHY – take away any shred of decent musical support and give them one of their shit stirring judges? They need impartial help at this point. Not someone who is going to *spoiler* slink around the fucking corridors looking for trouble or who will lurk on the end of a walkie talkie to hear from the camera crews where he can cause the most trouble. BULL. SHIT.

This years group songs are two really quite difficult ones that you should never attempt to harmonise as a newly formed group of nervous singers trying to impress three bitchy judges and the Wigged One; and an obviously really quite smart choice, smarter then the other two to the point where I can’t believe they didn’t have it highlighted in bright pink marker and with some kind of motion sensing device attached to it so that everytime you looked at, it beeped at you and cried in the voice of Stephen Fry, ‘pick me, pick me’ . . .

Straight Lines – silverchair (no, not this one)
Knowing Me, Knowing You – ABBA (nuh-uh, keep going)
End of the Road – Boys II Men (ding ding ding!!)

Supergroup Matt Corby, Rosie Ribbons, Daniel Misfud and Natalie Gauci (may I potentially introduce you to your Final Four?) decide on EotR after Matt comments that Straight Lines is ‘a really hard song’. This will become DEAFENINGLY important very very soon to other people. But not these four. These four are grown up, gorgeous and golden.

Killer Fatigue takes out players all over the damn hotel as Husny Thalib argues with his peroxided groupmate Phil, an argument that just goes on and on, when they should be shutting up and getting the fuck on with it. Dude.

But wait! There’s more and better shit to hit the fan as we quickly move to Northern Territorian Jasmine whose wig has completely flipped - her group of Chad, Dylan and persistent three times this season auditionee Cyndi Dietrich eventually decided to try on Daniel Johns’ falsetto and Jasmine is breaking in pieces right in front of our very eyes as she realises that THEY CAN’T. More specifically? That SHE won’t . . . Holden, in an act of what I can only imagine was pure LUCK, stumbles on to their hotel room and immediately uses his spider senses to hone in on Jasmine’s jacked off visage. He pokes the tiger, saying the group song is to see who can handle pressure and who will crack. Crap. It’s about good tv. It’s about mostly unseasoned and non professional kids staying up all motherfucking night to learn a fucking pop song, trying to work with other non professional kids to harmonise so they don’t sound like cats on heat, then coming in the next day on no sleep, hungry, starving for YOUR approval Holden, dehydrated because they don’t know how to look after themselves and dancing like monkeys for our unadulterated viewing pleasure. The group song NEVER means anything. It barely registers in regards to who you put through to the semi’s. If it did, we would see actual consequences and year after year you put through weaker group performances because they aced their individual auditions. We’re not stupid. Shut up Mark.

Jasmine, who is magnificently backed into a corner by the famous tv star who will later be JUDGING HER strangely looks sullen as Holden berates her and tells her she’s a miserable cow. Awwww, that’s helping, Mark, good work. Yes, she’s being a pain but hey, nonetheless, that’s stellar advice. How she didn’t jump up and just stab him, I don’t know.

HotCarl Risely sleeps with his trumpet. That is strangely, not a euphemism.

Those Lynx BamChicka ads are fucking gold.

More shit goes on. Jasmine says she’s pulling a Jorge Bec and leaving. Then she’s telling her groupmates who basically don’t give a flying fuck because its THREE IN THE MORNING, then lo and behold Holden comes in on his white steed of Mischief to convince her to stay. Even if her voice is shredded. They obviously want this girl in the semi’s. All I’m saying. Because there is no other way on this green earth that her group gets through otherwise. They are bollocks. Cyndi is the only one keeping her shit together in any way, shape or form and is the ONLY one who deserved to get through. The fact that they put all four of them through stinks of shenanigans to me and says Jasmine is in the Top 24. She has a great voice, but she’ll need to keep an eye on the sullen, methinks. She breaks down afterwards – ohhh, lookee, our first real emotional damage of the season. Huzzah! Well done, show.

The silverchair songs proves to be everyone’s downfall – we pause briefly to hate on Tarasai who tries to start a Hillsong convention in the auditorium. HotCarl’s group does not a great job, do (but Monday night previews show him so he makes it through). Then Matt, Rosie, Daniel and Natalie save the day – their End of the Road is pretty effing awesome, right up there with Chris Murphy and Dean Geyer’s Beautiful Day from last season. They communicate very well on stage and you can pick the kids who’ve done this sort of shit before, they have their asses together. Then it’s a cascading waterfall of good group after good group – most of whom have chosen EotR and not Straight Line – Daniel Johns sits at home watching Idol, chuckling evilly to himself and getting more friends addicted to Facebook.

We see lovely individual performances from Lana Krost, Jack Byrnes and Junior To’o and then G & James break it to us that there are sixty four left.
You . . .
Ex . . . cuse . . . me?
The fuck?
We just had seventy seven. We had group perfs and there are STILL SIXTY FOUR? You wankers only ditched THIRTEEN from the group performan . . . . fuck off show. Just fuck right off. I can’t speak to you right now. I’ll see you Monday night as you continue to not show me any Brianna Carpenter.

Bastards.

Because its been too long since I talked about The Clooney

New film. Serious Clooney. Also Hot Clooney; Clooney Who Knows How To Join A Project With An Amazing Motherfucking Cast*; Academy Award Winning Clooney Who Is Possibly Looking Sideways At Another Nomination, But This Time For Best Actor, Pretty Please, Don't You Think?; and I Look Great In A Movie Poster Even When I'm Blurred, Suck On That Bitches, Clooney.

He has my vote. Sigh.

*Seriously; Tom Wilkinson, Michael O'Keefe, Sydney Pollack and Her Royal Brilliance Tilda Swinton. This movie is NOT allowed to suck, even marginally. I will not have it.

And PS - Happy Birthday to Shaneequa. And just for her . . . The Depp.

This show needed more Irish.

Sydney! Sydney! Sydney! Irish! Irish! Irish! Lots of shots of my boy make me very happy, thank you editors of Idol.

What doesn’t make me happy? That the first real person they show doing a significant amount of singing? Is called Damian. Boo hiss, bad form show. He attempts George Michael’s ‘Faith’ and gives it the old Nine Inch Nails treatment and it makes me wish they’d shown more of the guy with the umbrella who was throwing crumpets around the room. How is it humanly possible that I am NOT making this shit up?

Elizabeth. Elizabeth regularly publicly sings karaoke with a cardboard house on her head and blithely tells the judges she lives with 90 cats, only one of whom is alive – and did anybody else think she maybe meant that she had Norman Bates’d the other 89? She is the kind of crazy cat lady who gives the rest of us crazy cat ladies a bad name.

The people responsible for the first lot of auditions (remembering you have to audition in front of a panel before you get to see the actual Big Four at the second panel) are NOT earning their money because I don’t care how funny they think it is to put through half naked guy or crotch grabbing guy, it is NOT and WHAT IS THE EFFING DEAL WITH SPIDERMAN COSTUMES THIS YEAR, FAMEWHORES? Did a memo go out? Are you people ORGANISED??

First real singer of the episode is Tarisai Vushe. Okay, my issue with Jesus Freaks is well documented (I believe ASIO may have a file) and yes, Tarisai pushes the God Loves Me And Has Blessed Me With A Gift That I Must Share thing just a little past the point of already annoying thankyou, but she does have quite the powerful chops on her. She belts the living hell out of that bloody Whitney Houston song ‘I Have Nothing’ Rick-Lee style and gives all four of the judges the big horn. She’s good, yes but she’s got the kind of singing style that leaves me shivering.

Boys? Are weird. And Daniel who hums and wails, I think, a Jeff Buckley number, is their King. Kyle makes my fucking day by telling him he’s come dressed like a purse snatcher. Gold Sandilands, take a bow.

Hirsute gentleman Adam describes his voice in one word; Love. I describe it in a different word; Shite. He makes a soul connection with fellow space cadet Mark before deep breathing into a wailing, gnashing rendition of ‘You’re The Voice’, getting so red in the face that I think he actually makes himself a little dizzy. Seems fair, he’s made me slightly nauseous.

Irish!! More Irish!! Oh GOD, I missed that accent . . . go buy his single, people and the CD which is out on the 18th. I will be pissed if it doesn’t hit Top Ten in the first week and NO ONE wants that . . .

Young Welsh accented lass, Rosie Ribbons got to number 6 on Pop Idol in the UK the same season Will Young won it. She sings ‘Butterfly Wings’ – I don’t know it, is it an original? – and has a really nice voice. She’s also pretty cute – good voice and cute chick? She’s doomed. Also I like her, so she’s doubly doomed. Dicko might as well just tell her she can win the damn thing to give her a third strike.

Benjamin McKenzie is 16 (too young too young too young) and sings nicely in the lower register but his voice really pops when he hits a little higher and shows much more promise. Dicko tells him he needs polishing and I silently beg him to tell Benjamin to take a few years and develop, strengthen his voice even more, because the kid is good but I hate when they put 16 year olds through this soul sucking process for people like me to bitch at and mock. Sigh.

Can I just say? Jessica Mauboy looks unbelievably gorgeous in those Head and Shoulders ads. She fucking glows, man.

Jason sings ‘Freaky’ and Mark encourages him to make out with Mother Marcia who disses him with righteous anger in her eyes. Honestly, I thought she was going to cut him. Or Mark. Actually . . .

Aaaah, guys and guitars. Boys with instruments. I am one of those XX chromosome’d creatures who gets weak at the knees when an XY plays an instrument in front of me. It’s something about the hands and yes, it’s a fingering thing – get your minds out of the gutter, I mean guitar fingering – although yes, boys who have good guitar skills are usually quite skilled in other areas also . . . oooh, I need to date a flautist . . .

. . . . . . . ahem . . . . . . . .

And we’re quickly moving on to Daniel Misfud who has the bounciest damn hair I think this show has ever seen and a divine soul ridden voice to go along with it. He’s also rather hot. Smouldering even. Excuse me whilst I pause to splash some cold water on my face . . .

Builder Lyall Adonis (no, really!) has a gorgeous Stevie Wonder quality to his voice. He shoobydoobydoo’s in his song and I think that may be the first successful attempt on this show of a shoobydoobydoo. His brother is also awesome. They are both quite cute too and I’m seeing why Dicko said this season is the most shaggable so far.

(I love So You Think You Can Dance.)

Oh. My. Fucking. God. Thank the gods that I went to the gym and taped Idol because now I can pause the tape and breathe into a paper bag when they show the total hotness that is navy trumpeter Carl Risely. They compound my breathing problems by showing him in his uniform and I have to go have a lie down. Please god, let him be able to sing . . . he Michael Buble's at the judges and he isn’t the world’s greatest singer but he convinces the judges and thank you, because TallulahB needs her some eye candy!!

And the pretty just keeps on coming . . . James Davies, Dave Andrews, lordy!! And they can sing!! Huzzah!

Mark commits hari kari to some poor dude singing Mariah Carey’s ‘Hero’. They need to officially put a stop to the Mariah and the Whitney at auditions, truly they do.

Oh, nutbag Angela from the Brisbane auditions is back and she’s dragged sister Amal with her. They try to be wacky and funny but they are NOT the Duffy sisters who magnificently took the piss the season they auditioned. These two are just painful, go away. Now.

Cyndi Dietrich didn’t get in on the Sunday show? Aw, I liked her. But she’s back and she’s trying again – ballsy. She sings ‘Black Velvet’ and they’ve already kind of sucked her soul because she’s not as good as she’s previously been which doesn’t bode well for her in later stages of the competition if she gets through . . . which she does, even though Kyle and Mark chastise her for being eggshell boring and dull dull dull, but Dicko likes her moxie enough to put her through after Kyle relents and Marica backs her up as well.

The good male voices continue with Junior To’o and Marty Simpson whose John Butler impersonation is impressive. Dicko asks him to sing without his guitar before agreeing to put him through, I don’t know, dude can sing but he looked uncomfortable without the guitar in his hands . . .

And then 16 year old Matt Corby proceeds to make me feel like a gross old pervy lady by rocking the hell out of ‘Superstitious’ and being ridiculously cute at the same time. I am getting a Dean Geyer thing from him but he comes across as a better singer than Geyer was and is HEAPS less cheesy, which can only be a positive. But he’s 16. Gah. Fix the age limit on this damn show.

And we’re done – 48 contestants go through from NSW/ACT making the It Never Is An Actual Top 100, 136. So be prepared next Sunday for cut after cut as we whittle down to the semi final 24 contestants by the end of Monday’s show. Tune in for meltdowns, smackdowns, put downs and sundowning. That might just be Holden . . .

No, she isn't

The weirdest thing people have googled for and gotten my blog instead :

is ellen pompeo abigail breslin's mother

Topsy Turvy

Melbourne. Sunny, windy, icy, balmy Melbourne. Home of the four seasons in one day. You know, they say that if you can’t make it here . . . you audition for Idol. I kid! I kid, because I love! And hey, way to represent, Melbourne! Our cup runneth over with decent to great singers this episode. I know! I know! I am as surprised as you! We had a good singer within the first fifteen minutes! I KNOW!! Melbourne, take a bow and get down with your bad self! And they tried to throw us off the scent by pretending Melbourne was a horror movie, right there on your tv.

Yes, they gave us some dross to start with, like young Andrew who pushes Amazing Grace through his vocal cords like he’s in labour and who has people stop him in the street to tell him how great his singing is. I am not kidding anymore people, you need to keep your frakking mouths shut. Stop randomly telling strangers they can sing, unless you make it FRIGHTENINGLY OBVIOUS that you are kidding. If you need to, literally pull their leg. They might call a member of the constabulary over to deal with the freak who complimented their singing and then started tugging at their trousers, but hey, these are the dangers associated with telling the guy walking down St Kilda beach bellowing at the top of his lungs that he can sing.

Melbourne. Home of beatboxers Zeb and Scott, who manage to beatbox and slate Kyle at the same time. Well played, those chaps!

And then BAM. Idol sucker punches us in the eyes by giving us a decent singer well before previously established timelines have led us to expect them, Natalie Gauci who works her way quite nicely around an original and starts a little Tet Offensive between Dicko and Holden about whether you can win AI doing your own stuff (Dicko takes the negative, Holden the affirmative). She then RIPS out I Will Survive at Dicko when he demands some poppy satisfaction, with a gorgeous little Fuck Off attitude that makes me fall just a teensy bit in love with her. Never uncomfortable on the back foot, Dicko fires BACK that he thinks she’s great and puts a voodoo curse on her by saying he thinks she could win the whole shebang. Somewhere Lisa Mitchell gets goosebumps and needs a hug. Marcia quite rightly (I KNOW!!) points out that she just got the Kiss Of Death and we all flash back to Kyle asking the Semi Final live audience to give Lisa a standing ovation because she’s the best thing this country has ever seen. Ever. Run away Natalie, run quickly away to some reverse voodoo practising doctor!

They show us a bazillion 16 year olds who oversing and are too young for this competition. I wholeheartedly hope that none of them make it to the Top Twelve, unless it’s Karla Tonkich who sings well, even if it is a trifle overdone, but whose stage mum is the Puppet Master and feeds her all her replies to camera – that’s great, can we make sure that if Karla makes Top Twelve that her mum gets to come to all the live performances and makes sure the button in her back that enables her to talk is pressed to ‘on’? Other 16 year old Madison Pritchett is pretty good too and holy crap, that’s THREE decent singers before we hit the half hour mark – what the HELL, Idol?

Then we get Donna, who is so very much not remotely close to the right side of thirty (that is, the right side of thirty for this show, I still maintain they should up the age range from 18 to 35, the famewhore gene doesn’t stop working the day you turn 31 – let My People make fools of themselves too, we want to dress up as banana’s and pirates and sing Oops I Did It Again badly on national telly!!). I know she plays it like she thinks she’s fooling everyone, but I don’t honestly think she really thinks she’s fooling anyone.

Cyndi Dietrich has a quiet, unassumingly pleasant voice but no real ‘thing’ going for her and Dicko asks her to get a PR team on that right away so she can work out who she is musically. I don’t . . . know . . . did she get through? I think she did.

Ahhhh, Mark Holden’s Lessons In How To Be A Passive Aggressive Wanker, Chapter Eightyfive. Julie Ann is an ambitious lass who has sent close on a thousand CDs to any and every one she can think of who might be able to help her out on her way to a career in this biz we call show. I’m not sure if she’s taking the piss when she sings because she’s terribly earnest but not terribly great. Mark unpacks his asshole and pretends to not understand why she hasn’t gotten anywhere. I get a headache grinding my teeth in anger at him. Dicko takes the honest line and tells her that she just ain’t that great. She is the first in a long line of auditionees with pitch problems, tone deaf-ness and general craptitude.

Holy mother of all that is . . . holy. DeadtomeOnetrickponyLee has a motherfucking Clinkers commercial. By the power of Greyskull, will SOMEONE please smite him?

Jack Byrnes sings with some aptitude (he’s not great, but he’s not meh) and is loved by Kyle and Marcia. Dicko calls him fascinating and thinks he has a “journey” in him. I and the other TWoP Biggest Loser posters call shoutout! JOURNEY!!

Anthony Nuku isn’t letting a broken foot hold him back, he BELTS out Hit The Road, Jack and falters only slightly on the big notes. Andrew G tries to kill him by pushing his wheelchair into a line of chairs but its cute and G’s hair is awesome this season so we’ll forgive him anything.

Matthew Morris sings Alanis Morrisette’s Uninvited. Dude needs a haircut and a shopping spree but his voice is delightful. Gosh. There are a lot of good singers this episode, I am confused and slightly alarmed by this . . . is Sydney going to suck big time?

Mark Holden’s Lessons In How To Be A Passive Aggressive Wanker, Chapter Eightysix involves making fun of Siki Daha’s name who looks quite put out by the middle class white guy picking on the kid with dark skin. Instant Karma isn’t just a John Lennon song and Mark is forced to be a decent human being when it turns out Siki can RnB the HELL out of Norah Jones. Siki deposits a nice cold serve of Eat Your Own Words, Dickhead in front of Mark and it is frankly schadenfreudalicous.

Idol sidebars itself to Mildura so we can meet Jesse Curran, the cute blonde who we’ve seen a dozen times already making a Gstring joke. It’s still kinda funny. She sings a song about cleavage and bulges which Mother Marcia is vaguely offended by, although Dicko loves the weird chicks (shades of Chanel finding her note. Good times.) So she sings another song. Look, she has great tone and a gorgeous sound. And she’s funny! I like the funny! Put her through, wankers. Thank you.

Tasmanian Dewayne (really? De. Wayne. Okay.) Everettsmith has a lovely old fashioned quaver in his voice and even kicks out some great high notes with no apparent effort whatsoever. He is restrained and fantastic. I can’t wait to see/hear more of him. This is all looking remarkably good. That concerns me.

Hippie Andrew is dressed like a tree and singing a song about tree felling that makes me want to single-handedly deforest the Amazon.

Ain’t nothing wrong with a boy wearing eye makeup Husny Thalib, don’t let them talk you out of it. Awww, he’s singing Spandau Ballet, I had this tape! He’s actually kind of cute, but I’m getting such a Lee Harding vibe. Marcia wants him to do something more suited to his look, sigh, she wants him to punk, doesn’t she? Marcia, you, of ALL people, should know that eye makeup on boys is the domain of the New Romantics and you don’t get a more eyemakeup wearing, quirky hair styled, pierced ears New Romantic band than Spandau Ballet. Unless you raise me a Duran Duran. At which point, I fold and you win the pot.

Oh good god. The next singer is effing Jacob Butler. He sings Oasis – of course he does – and it is quite good and Dicko calls him a “real find”. A real find? Find? He was on X Factor and made the top 100 of Idol in 2005. Find? Was he misplaced in some way? Did Holden put him down and forget where he left him? Did he fall inbetween the seat cushions? Has he been down there with $3.55 of spare change, some dust bunnies, a battery, the tv guide from the third week of October 2003 and some stale fries? He’s Jakey effing B, he's Holden’s protege. Eh, he’ll probably at the very least make the semi’s this year, otherwise we wouldn’t be seeing quite so damn much of him, right? I don’t mind him that much actually, he has a decent voice - but I will brook no favouritism this damn early in the piece, Holden. No!

Then Idol upends my world once more by showing more bad singers and then failing completely to have the Last Auditionee Of The Day Who Will Totally Surprise You Completely By Getting Through, Not, not appear. They merely inform us that 39 got through from Victoria/Tasmania and that they’ll see us in Sydney.

Oh, and tonight? We get Irish.

I may or may not have squeeeeeed with delight and loosed a huzzah!