Queensland. Bring out your insane.

There are many MANY things about Queensland that qualify as 'normal';

Authors David Malouf and Nick Earls are from Brisbane. They have both been seen in the same room at the same time. Utterly normal.

Actors Barry and Miranda Otto were both born there. Obviously at different times as Barry is Miranda's dad. No time travel involved, no weird space time contiuum freakishness happening there, just basic biology. Completely normal.

Winton in Queensland is known for having the worlds best collection of dinosaur tracks. Not remotely strange. That's SCIENCE, you don't get more normal than a bunch of paleontologists agreeing that Winton rulz, otherwise Ross on Friends wouldn't have been a paleontologist (and Ross was the really normal one.)

Granted, it gets rather humid up there and I'm not a huge fan of the sun, but I have been led to believe that my dislike of the sun is in fact the not normal part, and the sun itself is completely meteorologically apt and normal.

My good friends Bodie and Freya live in various parts of Queensland. They're substantially normal. Although I did hear that Freya's son had sprouted another foot. I'm almost certain she means upwards though and not that she needs to buy one and a half pairs of shoes these days. Still. He could have eight feet, two heads, only breath in time to the tune of Mozart's Seventh Concerto, consume nothing else but green beans cooked on Tuesdays and shoot fiery sparks from his nostrils when he sneezes and he'd STILL be more normal than the freaks who came out of the woodwork for tonight's episode of Idol. Most of whom we will be ignoring because of The Ground Rules. (Although one or two may have slipped through. I'm not made of granite, people. Sometimes you just HAVE to point and laugh.)

There was too much whatserface Coulter (and when did she become an International Superstar?) tonight but this was luckily counterweighed by the third consecutive night of a total lack of Holden.

Beau Mossop (25) sings AC/DC more badly than it is usually done. Who'd have known that was even possible? Bon Scott, all is forgiven. (Also, I'm really into Back In Black at the moment. Blame Jensen Ackles and Supernatural and the first time you see the Metallicar tooling down the highway in the first episode. Mmmmm Jensen . . . ) Beau pretty much sings the whole damn thing and . . . yay for your level of enthusiasm sir, but they've pulled your leg letting you even get this far. Which was very mean of them and we'll be talking about that when we get to another contestant very very soon.

Kiss impersonator. Dude, we already have Lindsay West, we have fulfilled our quota of glam rock tribute guys, thanks for playing.

Oh. The really sad and annoying story of Aicha Robinson (16. Yeah, it's AWESOME to mock and humilate the young.) Now, Aicha does not sing her song well at all. She pummels it around the head and beats it into a bloody submission. Marcia chastises her for her vulgar performance and Aicha's heart breaks into a billion pieces - because see, Aicha hasn't just performed this song once, she's performed it several times. To the original audition panel, to the producers, to everyone who decides that a vulnerable sixteen year old girl who can't really sing, should be allowed nonetheless to be put in front of a panel who will turn on her in a heartbeat if she shows the slightest vulnerabilites. Yes, yes, it's all very well and good to say she knew what she was getting into. But did she? Or was she given just enough encouragement by all those people she saw before the judges to think she legitimately had a chance? And right there is one of my pet peeves about this show (of which there are many and they are legend). I don't give a fuck if you humiliate the hell out of the famewhores in their pirate costumes and their 'funny' antics but the people who actually think they can sing but obviously can't? Please spare us those people. I'd rather watch an entire show of famewhores than see one more deluded soul bursting into angry tears because they got a little homespun truth from the panel. Especially when it then degrades into Aicha comparing her embarrassment here to the Iraq war.

Let's get on to some actual singers, shall we?

22 year old Teale Jakubenko's jawline and eyes immediately pique Fosse's interest (and also Dicko and Kyle's, who know the gay men - Fosse nods affirmative - and the confused middle aged ones as well - will be All About Him. Not to mention some of the ladies. He's quite lovely.) He sings rather well, if a bit quavery - lets call it nerves, shall we? I'm feeling generous.

Chick dressed up as an egg singing a song about pussy. Really, Brisbane?

Chrislyn Hamilton (17) is the one person who I've paused to listen to everytime they play that Can You Feel It ad. She sounds amazing in that ad but I've held back on besottedness until this point. She's not a small girl. She's large, she's zaftig and Dicko has visions of PoorPoorCasey dancing through his head so he needs to know if she's happy as she is. Dude, she's 17, NO ONE is happy with themselves at 17. She answers his question by giving them an Aretha Franklin number. Smart girl, remind them that you don't have to be size ten to blow the roof off the joint. Her voice is good, really good. The girls are looking fabulous this season. I'm not besotted yet . . . but she has major potential.

22 year old model/actress Vaughn Newman totally thinks she has this in the bag. Now, she doesn't have a bad voice per se, but it's unremarkable and limited. Dicko harshly tells her it was rubbish and they get all ghetto with each other until it comes crashing down on Vaughn that he's serious and she bursts into tears and calls Marcia 'honey'. Which awesomely leads to Kyle asking to call Marcia 'Brown Sugar'. That is so her new nickname this season.

Kyla Vanzetta (16) has wanted to audition since she was 11. They think she has the look. She certainly has a few different looks going on; beehive, late 80's eye liner, knee socks. Luckily her voice is pretty sharp and she gives Brown Sugar a 'moment'. Dicko calls her 'dollface', he's SO Guys and Dolls . . .

Sidebar: The new 90210 credits better have SOMEONE mock punching someone in the jaw twice in succession when the music calls it for it, just like Dylan and Jason used to and there better be a 35 year old playing a 17 year old or it just won't be the same.

Third time is hopefully a charm for serial auditioner and familiar Top 100 face, Irae Schwenke (21). He's doing this for his son, which is lovely but . . . wrong. He has a great gospel voice but we've had a multitude of gospel singers go through this competition and only one has ever come close to winning - Guy Sebastian, of course - and Australia doesn't really have the music industry to support a plethora of gospel singers. Which is why the other gospel singers from this comp have disappeared or joined the Young Diva's.

21 year old Brooke Schubert sings 'Songbird' a little too nicely, which - again - didn't know you could do that with this song. She also goes off pitch a wee bit but that might just be nerves because she has a fine tone otherwise. She has that light and shade thing that Brown Sugar is always harping on about. See her in Sydney.

Cowboy up! Klancie Keogh from Season Four has sent us a couple of friends. First up is 16 year old Mitchell Steele. Dicko likes the 'idea' of him - a pop sensibility with country style - but doesn't think his voice is ready yet. Kyle disses his 'brows. They are significant. He brings in his brother 27 year old Dallas Steele (and man, that's a country 'n western name if I ever heard one) who has a serious country voice. It's got that whole american twang going that Nashville creams itself over. The judges won't have a bar of it. There is no room for country proper in this show, sir. Only faux country. Mitchell is in, Dallas is out.

Crazypants Remy Wuromus (28) finds it hard to audition in front of the judges. Also, she has her perio-you know . . . we don't need to know.

The adorable Drew Crump (23) helps me shake off that performance of 'God Only Knows' that Brianna Carpenter did last season. His voice is lovely and soaringly sweet. I'm in love. He's awesome. He's also humble and self effacing to the point where Dicko has to tell him he's better than he thinks. He's in. He is also, unsurprisingly, The Last Person To Audition Who Totally Gets Through Completely And Utterly Unexpectedly.

So. Singers. Check. Weirdo's. Check. Queensland done with 18 through to Sydney. Check. Done. On to Old Blighty and Adelaide.

TallulahBelle out

Next.

Gah. I have BOLTED home from rehearsals, washed the blueberry stains from my face ( . . . it's a . . . long story), changed into my pj's and climbed into bed with my laptop and my second favourite battery driven bedroom device, my remote control. (My first favourite battery driven bedroom device is a Tardis money box. Yes, I am absolutely that sad. It has The Doctor and Martha pictured inside the door and when you put money in, it makes the whooshing Tardis noise and then The Doctor speaks. I tend to giggle uncontrollably when it does that. God. Why don't I have a boyfriend again??)*

*Okay, maybe I'm lying about my favourite battery driven bedroom device but my MOTHER reads this blog. Hola Mamma! I'm still a virgin! It's all Q's fault! She made me get one! Quickly move on to the next paragraph and we'll never speak of this again! See you at Christmas!

As we back the hell away from Too Much Information Land, let me further note before we get into this; it is 23.48 (I like military time), I'm ready to press play, I'm a year older than I was last night when I wrote the first ep of Season Six and my face is itchy and needs moisturiser. It's time for my old home town of Perth to take centre stage and I'd like to take this moment to also add; episode two and STILL NO HOLDEN. This continues to make me happy.

Oh. And remember the Ground Rules. No famewhores. Let us begin.

Hello sandy beaches, glistening ocean, lovely sunsets and Mathieson rubbing in the knowledge that despite Cosima and two of the Murphy brothers, Perth hasn't ponied up with a winner yet. I'd like to point out James, that the last two years in a row Perth has given you that guy who dresses up as a green dinosaur and dances, which equals roughly twenty total minutes of audition show, so don't tell them they've given you NOTHING. But if he appears today I will be ignoring his sweaty, costumed arse. And the kid dressed as Scooby Doo. Avert your eyes!!

Oooh, taped Idol means I can fast forward through the shite. Excellent. Straight on to 23 year old bipolar sufferer Bianca Long who impresses Kyle with her eyes. Her unique voice and Nina Simone song choice intrigues Marcia - who then jumps straight into Mother Marcia mode by reminding Bianca that the world of Idol is a tough one (especially for women. Ask PoorPoorCasey, ask TeamKate, ask The Gauc. If you can FIND THEM.) surrounded as it is by hateful faceless bloggers (!) and that it might be especially tough for someone with bipolar. Bianca seems to have a pretty good attitude about the whole thing and the boys give her a big yes.

Sidebar: The new Cadbury ad featuring the gorilla drumming to Phil Collins 'In The Air Tonight' is fricking GOLD.

Thank you show for wasting TWO MINUTES AND TWENTY NINE SECONDS on Andrew Youel and his Jane Austen DVD collection. The BARELY TWENTY SECONDS you then spent showing us quirky songstress 17 year old Brooke Wilkie and her lovely sounding voice was too much really. No, you're right, it WOULD be crazy to actually give us some background on her and the multitude of people she had with her, she can only sing and play the guitar, screw that, we don't need to know who she is yet, I'm sure you'll give her adequate coverage once we get to the Seymour Centre so yeah! Bring back Andrew, I miss him!

Idiots.

Bewhiskered builder Jonny Taylor (22) sings on scaffolding at his worksite - does that qualify as WorkSafe? - and tells us he's going to sing a song that's about his deceased uncle whose spirit he 'felt' after he had a motorcycle crash . . . huh? No, actually, stick with this, it's not bad or as weird as it sounds. The song is okay, the voice is better; it's dark and strangely calming. A teensy little bit Nickelback but not enough to annoy - Jonny makes it through. Nicely different. Excellent. Like him.

Wee Scottish lass Angela McComiskie (29) has chosen the worst possible song to audition with, it's shouty and doesn't highlight her voice At All. Kyle tells her flat out it was theatrical, which - we are painfully aware - he HATES. Dicko knows it's StoryTime On Idol (the producers slipped him a note) so asks for her whole life freaking story and then Builds The Drama in a completely legitimate way and tells her to take ten minutes and chose a song - and this is not at all because they're paying whatserface Coulter good money and they need to show her doing SOMETHING at some point during the show. No. That would be cynical of us to assume and we're better than that. She comes back and bursts out with 'What A Feeling' from Flashdance and incredibly unfortunately for all concerned, a fat guy in a leotard does NOT start dancing for his life behind her. It comes down to Dicko who is going to put her through the wringer before he puts her through to Sydney - oh for crying out loud, get on with it guys. Do we need this much time on Angela? She seems lovely and has a nice enough voice but she is not going to make it through the Semi's (if she makes it that far) to the Top Twelve and she's definitely not going to win. Can we please have more of that Brooke chick? Give us people WHO MIGHT WIN and stop wasting my time.

*fast forwards through the weirdo's*

*ten minutes later*

23 year old wrestler David Wallis takes on Kyle in a wrestling match and Dicko can hardly contain his glee. David pins him a couple of times and seeing Kyle's face smooshed into the parquet is some of the best television since that season when the pig farmer girl pretended to knife him in Queensland. Remember that? Good times. David is so exhausted and puffed he can barely squeeze out a tune but Kyle is pretty funny when he good naturedly berates his bodyguard for being missing whilst a guy who's about to sing Rick Price pinned him to the ground. Dicko sends David out to catch his breath and when he comes back he has a nice voice but he loses it completely when he tries to falsetto. Silly rabbit. The Idol Falsetto was surrendered for all perpetuity to Irish during his first audition two years ago and no one has been able to get their grubby mitts on it since. Kyle yes's him through with a promise of a rematch if he makes it to the Opera House Finale and then Andrew G hugs hum. Man, he beat up Kyle and hugged G. That's the dream right there, people.

Oh jesus, the dinosaur is actually back. Oh, Christopher Bachman, please hurry up and turn 31 and stop coming back. Thanks.

25 year old Ginger Sweet Mendoza (her real name) busts out some medical advice for other aspiring singers with colds and then Kyle wrangles her life story from her - abandoned by her mother, raised by her grandparents; they clearly want tears and recriminations, but Ginger is very matter of fact about the whole thing. Guys, she has a fever, she has no time for your bullshit, she wants to sing, get her ticket to Sydney and go home to bed. Sore throat aside, she throws attitude and vocal chops at the judges - she's struggling slightly but man alive, she's kicking it! It's a little shouty but I'm willing to theorise that she's compensating. She's also fairly adorable so yay for her!

Brodie Owen (16. Too young. Too young. Get back to school dude, catch yourself some waves and come back in two years. This show will RIP YOU TO SHREDS). Like last year's sixteen year old Matt Corby, he's chosen Supersititous as his audition song - and next season I want to see a ruling that outlaws this song from all male contestant auditions. He sings it quite well and he's charming as hell, but he's so young. Oh, please don't. But they do. And then he yells out 'Ocean Reef' and holy hell, he goes to my old high school. Sigh. Go forth young man, we'll do our best to keep you young and undamaged. Also, your mum is lovely.

18 in total through from Perth. And no one has sung any of Marcia's favourite songs thus far this season. Huh.

On to Brisbane tomorrow night and we'll get to finally hear the zaftig lass from the Can You Feel It ad and ascertain for sure if her voice really is that hair raisingly awesome.

TallulahBelle out.

Feeling It.

My dearest, darling Season Six!

Oh, how I have missed you. Might I dare to hope that the feeling has been mutual and you have missed me? I am heartbreakingly aware that we parted on bad terms last season, let's be completely upfront and honest about that. I mean, I loved The Gauc. Thrilled she won. (A little dumsquizzled as to where the hell her actual CD is, but you know, I'm SURE you'll explain that in the first week. Or two. The first month? Or you can choose to completely gloss over The Mysterious Disappearance of The Gauc and we'll just call her Casey Mark II and never speak of her again). But by the end of last season, I don't know if you noticed, but I and most of the country? Didn't give a flying fuck who won or lost. I barely watched the finale and frankly, that was more for The Divinyls than anything else. I'm not sure what else happened that night.

So this season, before we get started I'd like to set some important ground rules. Ground rules that I feel aren't completely out of the realm of do-ability. Ground rules that I feel we can stick to, that will mend the fences around the broken home that is our relationship. I know that last time I felt like this about Us, you gave me Damien Leith. That may possibly be the best Save of a relationship EVER. I mean, I felt lost. I was contemplating moving on to another show and dividing our assets. And then? You gifted me with the gorgeous, honey voiced Irish. (Seriously, have I thanked you for that recently? Thank you.) You have made an awesome start by ditching the ever flowing fountain of bullshit that makes up Mark Holden (but if I'd known you weren't going to keep him around, I might have celebrated the final 'Touchdown' he gave last season a little more. I would have choreographed a dance. Written a song. Recited some bad beat poetry and slaughtered a fatted calf in your honour with thanks.)

The Ground Rules; Firstly, I will NOT be lending any credence to the fame whores and idiots who are just there to get their mugs on the teev. No, thank you sir. I've had enough of gorilla costumes and if I want to see a superhero, I'll just go see The Dark Knight again, thanks.

Secondly, I have been made aware that a Ms RickiLee Coulter (??) will be appearing on your show as a type of 'mentor' to the kids. And look, it's your show, do what you want, but if you take time away from Andrew G and James Mathieson; I. Will. Be. Pissed. 65% of the greatness that is the show that is Idol is their schtick and if you detract from that, I will be forced to detract from your face. She therefore, does not exist to me. Unless I can call her Chanel. And also, if she is replaced by Chanel.

Thirdly. Marcia's penchant for calling every second song she hears, one of her favourites, became a drinking game last season that nearly killed me. It's been eight long months of AA and not being able to eat my grandmother's trifle at Christmas. This season, we're going to try something different.

Fourthly. I don't really have a fourthly. I'm sure I'll come up with one. I reserve the right to at any point in time bring in a fourthly. And a fifthly. In return, I will endeavour to pay attention - and more importantly, CARE - right through to the finale.

On to the first auditions in Melbourne! And the first positive outcome of A No Holden Idol is the Judges Table as we finally get Dicko back where he belongs, sitting in the final seat, giving the last opinion. Thank GOD. The closing words said to a contestant after they sing will never start with the phrase 'I'm not familiar with that song'. Ever again. Excellent.

First up is James Sidebottom . . . heeeee. (Oh, shut up, he's used to that, his surname is SIDEBOTTOM, he went through primary school with it, I'm sure his skin is appropriately thick.) James is a 25 year old self taught guitarist and chiropracter. Um. I'm sure they don't mean he taught himself chiropract-ing. I'm certain he passed all the requisite exams and has all the legal documents required to be safely laying his hands on Mathieson in the manner he is. His voice has a lovely, husky Johnny Diesel-ish quality to it, whisky sweet. First through to Sydney and we're off! Huzzah!

We are SO not talking about Mark I who happily wallops the heck out of Mika's 'Grace Kelly' or Mark II who takes the final note of whatever the hell he sings and makes it last about eight awful minutes. Nope. Moving right along.

Busker Chris Fatouros (25) sings some dirgey thing that appears to be in about three different people's range. Kyle thinks he's "excellent", Marcia "intensely intriguing" and Dicko loves his "intensity". He's the second shown as through and the first to confuse me. Really? I totally didn't get that. It's going to be a long season, I can feel that.

Hot tamale Sacha Rudolph (18) brings out all the cliches - music is her life, passion for singing, save the starving . . . hordes? That's . . . new for a reality show about singing. It's more America's Next Top Model. Ooookay. How are her vocal chops? Not as good as her 'tude. Dicko suggests she get a job with World Vision and Marcia gets quite snarky and sends her on her way.

27 year old Sarah Carnegie has played at Manchester Lane! Site of the last time I saw Irish play live and the spot where he signed a CD for me 'fiddle dee dee potatos' and didn't even look at me a little strangely when I asked him to. Love! (Oh, Damien Leith. Can you audition again?) Back to Sarah, who advises us she is having a torrid and steamy longterm love affair with music - when she starts singing I immediately request if they're interested in a threesome. Her voice is gorgeous. The judges join in and make it an orgy of loving - at which point both Sarah and I use our safe words and back out when Kyle takes off his shirt - and pop her straight through. Oh. Yeah.

Kyle is repeatedly disappointed by the hot girls who can't sing who tramp past the audition panel (pun intended), until Tatum Jackson (21) saunters through and gives us a quite lovely Natasha Bedingfield number. The panel creates some Drama by sending her out to whatserface Coulter to find something 'pop'ier because no one knows who Natasha Bedingfield is, right? She comes back and sings that annoyingly cute 'Bubbly' song. OH!! FOURTHLY, I reserve the right to absolutely and positively REAM THE FUCK out of anyone who sings that fucking 'I Kissed A Girl' song. Bad faux lesbian pop is NOT welcome on My Show, 'kay thanx. Anyway, Tatum's second chance is cute - it still gets a no from Dicko but Marcia and Kyle yes her right through.

Um. The Naked Cowboy? Not so naked. Also, I suspect not really a cowboy. Or a singer. Why is he even here? Has he left poor unsuspecting tourists in New York who want to take photos of themselves with him, with nothing to do? Put some clothes on and get out of my country. Although you may leave your three million and the hat. I like the hat.

From Nowhere (sorry) comes 23 year old Casey Freeman who kneels on the floor with her guitar and sounds like a female Jack Johnson which = awesome. She's pretty cool and the judges acknowledge that and quickly put her through.

Rebecca Simani (18) needs her best friend in her audition with her - call me cynical but I imagine the producers suggested that . . . luckily her voice is pretty awesome and carries her through.

(I know I said no fame whores, but HOW can I go past the three girls who sing Dick In A Box, complete with props, without applauding? I can't and I won't. Kudos ladies. Fucking A. For Awesome.)

17 year old Brooke Addamo brought her entire street with her. She blues up a GREAT version of Coldplay's 'The Scientist' and then we get a backstory that features the first of the Eternally Awesome Idol Parentals - her (step)Dad is really cool and visibly chuffed. Awwwww.

Amanda Grafanakis (24) is the first familiar face from the Can You Feel It ad. She rocks out 'Mother Mother' by Tracy Bonham, a song and artist I have to say I NEVER thought I'd see/hear on Idol. She scrapes through.

And then we come to Lindsay West (30) who made it through to the semi finals of Season Three and is back to try again. Confession time. I was BRUTAL about Lindsay. Mean to the power of three. And Lindsay, who - I'm still fuzzy on how - found my blog and read the mean(cubed) things I said about him, was remarkably cool with it. He awesomely saw the humour in the situation and the fact that editing can make anyone look like a dick (especially, in his own words, when you give them enough ammunition). Regardless, Lindsay has been really great about sharing background info about his original time on Idol, the machinations, the process, he's invited me (and the crazy kids from CC) to see him live (awesome). He has, in short been pretty fucking ace about it all. He sings pretty solidly but it's just not the same when he doesn't have a kicking band backing him. How have I still not seen him do the KISS thing? Dicko isn't a huge fan, but Kyle and Marcia are both pretty chuffed to see him taking advantage of the new ruling last season that previous semi finalists can re-audition (and also no doubt remember that Lindsay makes great tv. Love him or hate him.) Bring it. (And we've kind of recently had this conversation Lindsay, but get a haircut young man! And stop bringing Jake Gyllenhaal into it.)

Vesna from Big Brother!! came with a hair rocker who can't so much rock. Still, we miss you on our teev, Vesna.

Steve Jaz (27) busts out his best 'Maniac' and squeaks through with yes votes from Marcia and Kyle.

The escapees from the VCA Musical Theatre course give us a quick montage of blergh auditions for Wicked and Shane Warne; The Musical (a real musical, for real, I'm not shitting you, Shane Warne; The motherfucking Musical. For. Real.) but they lead us to perky redhead Nicole Banks (18) who jazzes a GORGEOUS number at us in a fantastic voice. Dicko calls her delightful! She really is! Shaneequa texts to dub Nicole as my early favourite. I reply in the affirmative but frankly all the girls thus far have been outstanding. Go the Chicks!!

G and Mathieson walk the St Kilda pier and discuss Great Stuff That Came From Melbourne. They . . . forget to mention me. Boys. You scamps.

Our second auditionee who we already know from the Can You Feel It ad, is Thanh Bui (25) who belts out a total boy band song, sung in a total boy band manner. Dicko busts on him for the vocal gymnastics but his voice is kind of ace and he whizzes through.

The Last Person To Audition Who Totally Gets Through Completely And Utterly Unexpectedly is Mark Spano who used to have a burgeoning career with a screaming rock band but who Cosima'd and hasn't really sung since. His voice has a nice roughness about it but when he arcs his throat back and belts out some notes, I worry terribly - 'ware the polyps Mark! Marcia touts him as the best voice she's heard on the show in years. Ummm. Marcia? Irish was only two years ago. Two. So, shut up Marcia.

In total 34 singers make it through from Melbourne to the Top One Who Are They Kidding Hundred. Tomorrow night Perth (and my birthday!), then on to Brisbane, Adelaide, London and Sydney, which is apparently SO big they have to show it on two nights. Unless - and lets hope THIS is the case - it's because the shows only go for half an hour. Yeah? Yeah.

TallulahBelle out.

Hanging with mah boys.

With Idol coming up (and yes Ten, I can feel it, thanks. You can stop that ad now), it's time to start getting back into the hang of blogging. It's been two months since Barack Obama broke my heart into a billion pieces and since then there's been some changes in The World of TallulahBelle. I finished up my job, took my Long Service Leave and proceeded to sit on my ass at home watching a SHITLOAD of DVD's for close on two months. Which meant I had time to watch a heap of Supernatural. Which lead to more than a few emails to friend JV regarding the amazing hotness of Jensen Ackles. Which lead to him questioning my devotion to The Clooney and had Jensen surpassed it?

To start with, until Jensen is awarded the honorific of the 'The' and becomes The Ackles, he will never ursurp The Clooney. George will ALWAYS be #1. It's #2 to #5 who fight it out on a regular basis. It USED to be; The Clooney, David Tennant (Doctor Who), Jon Stewart (from The Daily Show), Seth Green (Oz from Buffy) and Ryan Reynolds (abs, facial hair and smart arse mouth from Blade:Trinity) but there's been a shakeup in the lineup recently and therefore; it is obviously time to update The List. So that The Clooney, Jensen and the rest know where they stand. And so that maybe now their publicists will leave me the hell alone.

1. The Clooney. 598 straight weeks at number one!! He's the undefeated heavy weight Champion of the . . . erm . . . The List!

2. Gareth David-Lloyd. Plays Ianto on Torchwood. I am SO besotted with this Welsh boyo. And he's more than happy to make out with boys - his character is bi on the show and makes out with Captain Jack Harkness all the time - which you know I completely and utterly LOVE. Wheeee!! (Captain Jack himself is played by John Barrowman, who is gay in real life, otherwise he'd be on The List. I don't allow gay men on The List, there needs to be some aspect of the merest hint of slight possibility that if the world ended and only myself and one of my Listee's were all that were left, that we could potentially repopulate the planet. Also, if I allowed a gay guy on The List, it would totally be Neil Patrick Harris; based purely on Dr Horrible and his legend . . . wait for it . . . dary portrayal of Barney on How I Met Your Mother. NPH for the Emmy this year, bitches!!)

And Gareth has a fantastically hot Welsh accent. I'm so enamoured of the Welsh thing at the moment (blame BBC Wales *shakes fist*) that I'm saving up for a holiday back there to bask in the Welsh sun and all the gorgeous elongated vowels I can get my ears on. Random strangers will be accosted and forced to speak to me. Anyone named Dylan, Myfwany or Daffyd will be excitedly "awww'd" over. If they can recite Under Milkwood in actual Welsh whilst standing at the Roald Dahl Plass in Cardiff, they will be . . . hugged. You totally thought I was going somewhere dirty with that, didn't you? Mind out of the gutter people, we don't want an international incident. Both Gareth and Jensen were ADORKABLE at all the ComicCon conferences I may or may not have geekily youtubed. You know, if they would only make out with each other - man, The List would be DONE. I could absolutely close any and all future rankings, laminate this puppy and call it a night. They'd catapult to joint number one placing and you'd have to show me back to back screenings of Oceans 11 and From Dusk to Dawn to remind me who The Clooney even is.**

3. David Tennant. And believe you me, The Doctor did not take the move from 2nd to 3rd at ALL well, the big baby sulked for DAYS.


4. Jensen Ackles. Honestly? I watched Dark Angel when it was on years ago and had no clue how hot this guy was. I recall thinking him rather cute and something of a smart ass - which I am a big fan of (see Reynolds, Ryan; love of). But after watching him (I just finished Season Two this week) play Dean Winchester on Supernatural?

Dude.

Dean Winchester is HOT. Hot hot hot hot hot. Seriously? Crying over his father's grave in an alternate reality that's actually just a fantasy concocted by a genie to keep him happily comatose so he can drink his blood? Hot. Pretending to be a PA on a filmset with a headset and a walkie talkie and stuffing his face with tiny philly cheesesteaks? Hot. One single perfect tear dropping from his GORGEOUS green eyes whilst his poor little brother who can't keep a girlfriend alive for the life of him, has to go into the next room and put a bullet in the skull of his werewolf chippie? Hot. Crying over the corpse of his brother who was just slain by a freakishly powerful child of That Yellow Eyed Son Of A Bitch (tm Dean)? Hot. Sacrificing his life for his little baby brother to bring him back, therefore leading to him being shredded by hellhounds at the end of season three and totally causing ME tears when that happens (I've seen pictures and my new best friend JV is hooking me up with S3 as soon as humanly possible because he's sick of hearing me ramble on about The Hotness of Dean Winchester and how much I'm missing it)? Hot. Putting a bullet into aforementioned That Yellow Eyed Son Of A Bitch using the Colt That Can Kill Anything, You Betcha Baby, Suck On This You Bastard Who Killed Our Mom? HOT.

5. Jon Stewart. Jon is a grownup and is not affected by his downward move to the number five position (David). Plus he's been on The List for so long, he is fully aware how fickle I can be and that all he needs to do is arch an eyebrow in my direction, dryly drop into conversation that this week on his show he's going to be interviewing The Clooney, Madeleine Albright and making fun of Dubbya and hey presto! He's slotted right back under The Clooney. Heee. Under The Clooney. Oh, the mental pictures . . .

So that's where we stand. Today. Right at this very moment. But The List is such a fluid living creature, and you just know I'll see the movie Wolverine, in which Ryan Reynolds plays Deadpool (such fucking awesome casting that I almost can't breathe thinking about how much The Awesome it is. And Liev Schrieber, Ryan Reynolds and Hugh Jackman in the one film? If there's a scene with the three of them on screen at the same time, I will have a lustladen coronary) and he'll be straight back onto it.

Sigh.

I might avoid watching The Daily Show for a couple of weeks to give the guys some breathing space. I mean, if I accidentally catch any Robot Chicken or Season Three Buffy, Seth Green will Oz himself right back on as well.

Extra heavy and heartfelt sigh.

I should just bite the bullet, admit I'm a fame whore who is obviously not getting enough sex in the real world and up The List to a Top Ten. Because the Top Ten includes Jake Gyllenhaal, Ryan Gosling, Seth Green, Ryan Reynolds and Nathan Fillion. Now if only the world WOULD end and leave just the eleven of us. (And if Rachel McAdams survived as well, that would be ace. I'd patch up that whole break up between her and Ryan Gosling. And Maggie Gyllenhaal. Who would, for obvious reasons, be allowed to help repopulate the world with everyone but her brother. 'Cause that's just wrong.) It's just so hard. They're all so hot and I've spent so much time thinking about this . . . . . . .

. . . . . excuse me. I need to go take a cold shower and have a lie down. I'm exHAUSTed.

** And yes, I am aware of the inherent strangeness of allowing boys who make out with other boys on The List and not gay men. Does that make me homophobic? I'll check with Fosse. I can't risk my handbag status on this list, people and really, I'm more than happy to make it a Top Eleven and move Neil Patrick Harris into the room next to Fillion. MORE than happy. Suit up, NPH!

Thanks from my mum, me, my sister and her daughters.

" . . . from now on, it will be unremarkable for a woman to win primary state victories, unremarkable to have a woman in a close race to be our nominee, unremarkable to think that a woman can be the President of the United States.

And that is truly remarkable."

From the other side of the world, we thank you Hillary.

And now I feel sorry for Sarah Larson . . .

Gorgeous George has broken up with the chick whose toe he broke in a motorcycle accident. And heart also, I'm now assuming. I mean really, regardless of hot you might be or however many other adorable handsome witty men you might date in the future, when this guy :

"hi, I have an Oscar and I'm wearing the tux just for TallulahBelle"

*swoon*

breaks up with you, I don't care WHO you are, you have the consumation of a LOT of chocolate, weeping on your girlfriends shoulders for the next seven months straight and developing an aversion to men in suits with awesome hair, in your future.

You may never be able to watch a movie again.

EVER.

So Sarah Larson, where ever you are (and I'm assuming it's huddled up in the foetal position and sobbing for your mother - it's what I would do if The Clooney broke up with me), you have my utmost sympathies. Stay strong girl, there are plenty of slightly less perfect or awesome fish in the Hollywood sea. Sure, it'll be a step down from what you're used to, but hey! You got to be with a god for longer than anyone in recent The Clooney History other than his pet pig, Max. And while it may not feel like it right now; you got lucky, you hit the jackpot, you won the dating lottery!! It ends for us all and you have to take the lows with the highs.

Are you at least a pretty crier?

Chin up, chook.

TallulahBelle

xx

Happy Birthday

My dearest George,

It's that time of year again (did I . . . miss 2007? Fuck. Happy Birthday for last year too. Don't make me hand in my The Clooney Appreciation Fanclub card, I'm the president, that's just embarrassing.)

I cast my mind back, waaaaaaaaaay back, to our first date together; you, the young Booker on Roseanne; me, freshfaced young 'un in high school still exploring her sexuality (thanks for that by the way) . . . it's slightly pervy, isn't it? But no fear! It wasn't until 1994 and ER and the magic that was Dr Doug Ross (Paediatrician of Perfection) that you really captured my attention, my eye, my heart and my girlish fervour, stealing it off Spike from Press Gang and flattening my long time crush on Neil Finn. And good GOD, man, you have just gotten better and better with age (although, that Nespresso ad that you're in? Hon, eat a sandwich.)

Now our relationship hasn't always been rock solid - I mean, you've faced some extremely TOUGH competition of late from David Tennant and I may have admitted to Fosse as recently as last week that should I have to choose between the two of you, I don't know that I'd automatically choose you anymore . . . sorry. But I'm sure you've seen Doctor Who right?? You've seen Tennant as Ten and if so, you understand. (I'm also pretty sure that you'd offer to join us. I'd be okay with that. I think Tennant might be too. Call us!)

But in my heart of hearts I know you are My Guy. Others may come and go (Johnny Depp, Gareth David-Lloyd, Ryan Reynolds, Jon Stewart) but you . . . oh you. You are eternal. You are delightful. You are The Clooney.

Happy Birthday my sweet sweet boy.

Love
TallulahBelle
xx

Oscar! Oscar!

My dearest George,

Best of luck tonight, although I know that you know that it isn't Your Year, this year it is Daniel Day Lewis' Year. Even if he already had A Year and technically even though you won Supporting for Syriana, you still haven't had A Year. Although if we're going to make that argument then Tommy Lee Jones is about due A Year, but I would have given him A Year for his fucking awesome mouthwateringly good work in No Country For Old Men. In which he is awesome. So whilst I know you won't win, I do look forward to seeing you once more in The Tux. It's my favourite part of the Oscars.

Be a gentleman and help Cate Blanchet up those stairs when she wins for I'm Not There, she's very pregnant and we don't want her tripping. Look suitably surprised if anyone beats her. Ditto if Julie Christie somehow loses to that french chick for Best Actress, which Fosse thinks will happen. My money's still on Christie.

Applaud with great gusto for the Coen boys when they finally win their Best Director gong for No Country. And if the delightfully named Roderick Jaynes wins Editing, please text me to let me know if its Joel or Ethan who finally confesses to being Jaynes and toddles up to the podium to accept the award. (I heart those boys.)

Start a fist fight if Ratatouille doesn't win Best Animated Film - it deserves it for the scene where The Food Critic bites into the ratatouille and is transported back to his childhood. That scene tears me up inside, it's beautiful.

Hold back the tears when they In Memoriam. Heath Ledger will herald a round of enormous applause and I wouldn't be surprised if there's a small standing ovation for him. My hands will be clapping loudly for he and my guy, Roy Scheider.

And last but not least my love, keep Angelina and Jennifer WELL away from one another and organise a bouncer for the bathroom just in case they feel the need to pee at the same time. Wouldn't THAT be awkard?!

Love and puppies,
TallulahB
xx

You're Gonna Need A Bigger Boat

Roy Scheider, Police Chief Martin Brody has died at 75. One of my all time favourite characters from my all time favourite film.

Thanks, Chief.

Super Tuesday

I am finding it difficult to concentrate on what Wolf Blitzer and Lou Dobbs are saying because none of it is definitive. Damn it.

Polls about to close in Georgia. California is the Big Prize.

Come on America, don't let me down.

And Oprah? SHUT UP.

(CNN just called Georgia for Obama based on exit polls. MotherFUCKER.)

Oh, get a room, you two. . .

Hillary and Barack are making kissy faces at each other now that they're not just The Frontrunners, they're the ONLY runners after John Edwards took his fabulous hair and gorgeous southern accent and his bat and his ball and went home.

They got all coy when asked if they'd take the other as their Vice Pres running mate, a question to which they should have scoffed and laughed, whilst pointing out that they've been CRUCIFYING each other for the last couple of weeks and for real, do you think the country is ready to elect BOTH of them at once?

Bring on Super Tuesday, or Whopping Wednesday as it will be for those of us 'round these here Antipodean parts. I'll have one eye on CNN/FOX/SKY on Foxtel and the other on their respective web sites for any and all updates.

The nervous wait may just kill me . . .

South Car-oh-line-ah

(to the tune of Oh Susannah)

"South Carolina,
Please don't screw Hillary,

Just let her kick Obama's arse

And be the nominee."

Sure . . . the odds of Clinton taking South Carolina comfortably/semi comfortably/not comfortably at all - seriously what the hell am I sitting on this couch is killing my back and ohmigod look at that I found a picture of your old girlfriend BILL say hi to Monica WHY DON'T YOU - are slightly less than me giving up coffee and The Clooney, but we want a CLOSE second, thanks very much South Carolina. No sneaky giving votes to Edwards just 'cause he's from your neck of the woods and is delightful. I still have high hopes he'll end up as Clinton's VP running mate but at this point, it's such a two person race between Hill and Barack that John, you're a third wheel, my love. A delightfully coiffed one, but still. Wheel. Third.

Go Team Hillary.

Austen

Take the Quiz here!

Well . . . duh . . . I knew that.


(schwoinked from CrumpArt)

Oh, Hollywood.

You lift us up by giving The Clooney yet another Oscar nomination (extremely doubtful that he'll win, but who cares, it means The Tux shall be dragged out of the closet yet again, I mean, Tux Clooney is EVERYONE'S favourite, isn't he??)

then you crash it all down around our ears.

RIP Heath, you talented little bugger. I'm off to watch Ten Things I Hate About You and cry until my contact lenses pop out.

Let The Primaries Begin. But Not If You're Going To Vote For That Guy.

New Hampshire? For real? Stop making my girl cry.

Also? Vote Clinton, you bastards . . .

Caucus

Caucus. Dictionary definition : a meeting of party leaders to select candidates, elect convention delegates, etc.

Tonight - one am Aus time - Iowa Rep and Dem members gather to decide the first official winner of the shit fight that the race for the 2008 Presidential nomination has become.

I'm stuck in WA with my parents poor excuse of a Foxtel setup that does NOT include the Comedy Channel, meaning that while the Daily Show with the godlike Jon Stewart is back on air - despite the ongoing US writers strike I might add - I am still without his brilliance. Until I get back to the less fucking hot - surely, I mean for real, Boxing Day in Perth was 45 fucking degrees - gorgeous cooler nights of Melbourne this weekend, the only thing that would make the lack of Jon for the first caucus would be a Hillary win. With a John Edwards second and Obama bringing in the rear (sorry Barack I love you but not this election, baby, TallulahBelle needs her Hill).

*crosses fingers tightly*

Go Clinton. Kick. Ass.

Paper bag time . . .

I know, this isn't the idol blog I haven't done yet. It's instead a deep breathing exercise in readiness for the other vote this weekend, one that you might argue rates as slightly more important than whether or not The Gauc wins over Matt Corby (which FYI, she totally should but if I can only win one battle, Natalie my love, I'm sorry but I want this one MORE.)

My first election memory is from 1983 when I was ten years old and Bob Hawke was leader of the Labour Party. Mum and Dad took us to the polling booths with us and Dad wore this shirt (although in my strange childhood headspace, it was entirely Light Labor Union Blue) :

In honour of that shirt and that election and in tremendous hope that tomorrow we rid ourselves of The Blight that is John fucking Howard and Peter shitbag Costello and their ilk and in true FamilyBelle tradition, I shall be wearing my Kevin07 shirt to the polling booth. If this all goes well and according to The Plan then things look brightly upwards for Hillary in the upcoming US primaries as well. It's not much to ask, right?

To quote Ms Fits :

HotCarl. The Journey . . . of HOT.

Auditions - 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!!

Seymour Centre - 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!!

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

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 . . .

Semi's - 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).

Wildcard - 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!!

12 - Oh sweet jeebus, they show HotCarl in his uniform, playing his trumpet AND riding his motorcycle. Guys, you’re KILLING me. Also, continuing the tradition of awesome Idol Parentals, his dad is very cute. I want HotCarl to sing My Funny Valentine SO badly I downloaded Matt Damon doing it from The Talented Mr Ripley soundtrack. Waltzing Matilda? Oh man. Why? No, really, why? I get the patriotic thing, but no. I don’t care how swinging he gets, how cute he is or how well he sings it, it is STILL WALTZING FREAKING MATILDA. And that hat is stupid. The crowd goes nuts? Huh?

Mark tells him his instincts are right on the button. What? Dicko loves the diversity he brings and calls it a great song choice. For real? Am I asleep and this is some horrid Idol shaped dream and not the really nice one I had recently where Mathieson and I had to cuddle together for warmth or something and you guys, Mathieson is a great cuddler and also a really good kisser and I’ve said too much. Marcia ghetto MMMM’s into her microphone and are the judges on crack? What did I miss that made that great? Was I watching the wrong show? Kyle rights all wrongs by telling HotCarl he couldn’t stand it – THANK ALL THAT IS MIGHTY ON THIS EARTH. He calls it naff and HotCarl replies saying he’s showing off his Aussie and if that’s how his freak flag flies, then he should have put on a slouch hat or a baggy green and not that GOD awful trilby thing. I am crushed and have officially downgraded him from HotCarl to TepidCarl.

11 - TepidCarl is desperately trying to get back into my good graces because in his package he wears a tight white shirt, ass hugging jeans and eyeliner. I'm melting, I'm melting . . . boy knows my weaknesses. Now Coldplay's 'Clock's' can absolutely rock out because Magni did so on Rockstar Supernova. However, he didn't invest it with a reggae beat and croon it so much as he rocked the living FUCK out of it. TepidCarl sings this quite well and wisely steers away from the Chris Martin falsetto which I fear would prove too much for him but this is pretty lame for Rock Night, dude. Still, at least it's not Waltzing Matilda! And his jawline is magnificent, so welcome back HotCarl!

Dicko shrugs and asks him if that's rock? Man, Dicko would have HATED Bobby Flynn's cavalier approach to theme's last year. He tells HotCarl that he's just being lazy and then makes one of the few sane remarks he'll make all night by telling HC he could have done a Stray Cats song and been brilliant. My god. Can we have a week where Dicko picks EVERYONE'S songs for them? Marcia abdicates all judging responsibility by making the contestant judge themselves. Unsurprisingly HotCarl thought he did okay. Thanks for your time Marcia, your fee for tonight's show will be donated to charity, right? Kyle says he understands he wants to stick to his 'thing' but that it was a bit of a jellyfish, wobbly performance and he no longer wants to be HotCarl's boyfriend as he radiated a boring vibe. Mark thinks it undermines the competition to do a swing(ish) version of a song for Rock Night and just as I'm about to pass out from lack of oxygen because I can't stop screaming at Holden about how he let Bobby get away with fucking MURDER last year - 'Werewolves of London', 'Arthur', 'Rhiannon' motherfucker!! - the lovely Andrew G channels the sane part of me and dryly notes to HotCarl that they let Bobby do whatever they liked last year and ASIO makes a note of G’s support and wipes his file clean.

10 - HotCarl Risely - for real? You're scatting during Disco? Fuck. And also, ow at your falsetto.

9 - They keep showing Ian Moss during HotCarl’s package and it makes me angry, show me my boy! He says he’s doing Cole Porters ‘It’s Alright With Me’, but he’s really doing the Harry Connick Jr version from Red Light, Blue Light. Good god, he’s playing the trumpet and wearing a suit and who cares if it’s a direct copy of every tour edition DVD that Michael Buble and HCJnr ever released. Fosse texts from his sickcouch to upgrade him from HotCarl to ScorchingCarl and it would be rude to use Shaneequa’s bathroom to have a cold shower right? PGid doesn’t get the love and complains bitterly about his singing again to which I reply, he sang? Huh, I’m too busy thinking rude things about how agile his lips and tongue must be.

Marcia is just so happy that her boy got to play his horn and bats her eyelashes at him. Kyle is back in full on love for HotCarl and comments that a man who looks like him should get the horn out as much as possible. Mark calls him consistent and thinks he did a really good job. Dicko says its fantastic that he didn’t wait until Big Band night to show Australia what kind of stuff he’d do as Our Idol and really, even I’m not that blinded by lust. Look, he’s beautiful and not the worst singer in the world, but if he wins this show then we, the Australian people, should demand to see exactly what the Australian Federal Defence Force has spent our tax dollars on this year and if the number 191010 shows up ANYWHERE on their phone bill, then maybe it’s time to give that Communism thing a try.

8 with Special Guest Blogger, Her Royal Highness Elizabeth II - A rather attractive fellow, the Marquess of Scorch, Carl Risely puports to be singing ‘Can’t Buy Me Love’, penned by some of One’s favourite subjects, The Beatles. One has knighted Paul McCartney. One shall not extend this courtesy to Carl. His swing version is attributed to a Gentleman called Michael Buble. Well. One shall certainly set the corgis on that blighter should he set foot on the palace grounds. One finds this arrangement vaguely offending. His singing is quite adequate, One supposes, but One would appreciate it if he would stop butchering The Beatles. Thank you.

Knave Mark Holden calls it a great start and compliments his higher range. He notes that Carl insists on singing swing but that this may be his Achilles heel and longs for a ballad. The corgis like a good ballad. Our right royal British subject Dicko (O.B.E.) rightly dubs it ‘snuff jazz’ and says that he stamped all over the melody. Really, until One has heard Princess Anne warbling in the shower of a morn, to the Greatest Hits of Ronan Keating, One does not know true pain. Is the Dowager Marcia Hines perhaps a faith healer of some kind? Her tent like garment would suggest so. Daddy used to have faith healers and their ilk run towards the English Channel and drowned. She neglects to lay her hands on the boy, instead telling him to stay who he is. One thinks she may be delusional. The portly gent at the end believes Carl should stick to his guns but that tonight was a little bland.

7 - Or, The Week We Do Not Discuss. Bye Moppet. SOB.

6 - HotCarl has been given the Tom Jones song 'It's Not Unusual' to sing and I almost pitch a fit when he starts off slow, elongating every fucking word but what's this?? HotCarl stops mid note and turns to John Foreman telling him that that's never going to work. John agrees and they bust right into the BIG version and it is AWESOME!! His microphone technique is still for shit and his voice isn't brilliant but MAN alive that was FUN!! Upgrade that man to LavaCarl!

Kyle is back in full on heat for LavaCarl and calls him the frontrunner. When Mark goes to speak the crowd goes completely apeshit for a td. Mark tries to look like he's sick of it but you just know he fucking LOVES it when they demand this from him, it totally reaffirms his belief that he is the most important judge and only his opinion counts. When he gets that look on his face, I like to whisper the names Kate de Rouge vs Emily the Coldly Anointed One and Damien Leith's 'ugly' mug at him and smirk lots. Dicko practically salaams at his feet because he wanted entertainment and he got it in SPADES. He was a little disappointed that no knickers made it up on stage but that's only because Fosse and I weren't there Dicko, LavaCarl totally got some laundry pitched at him from Chez Belle though. Marcia is all about entertainment and Kyle begs her to yank off her Gstring and then demonstrates how that might be done and ewwwwwww. Mathieson speaks for ALL of us when he sternly tells Kyle that if he takes his pants off, he will leave.

5 - Carl So Hot You Could BBQ Off Him 800 Degrees Celcius, For Real Put An Egg On My Forehead And See How Long It Takes Risely is scorching up the screen and laying his hotness on Little River Band’s ‘Reminiscing’. Ummm. Look, he’s still very pretty and the dude has the best male haircut on the show by a country MILE (out of the contestants, that is – I’m not counting the pretty that is G). He rocks an open collar shirt and has a gorgeous neck but the singing? Not. Great. Weak actually, really really weak. Downgrade. LukewarmCarl. How the mighty have fallen. But his smile, oh his smile . . . alright, fine. Back up to ThreeHourOldHotWaterBottleCarl and let's leave it there.

4 - Carl This Genre Is My Bitch, Right Natalie?? Please Don’t Take This From Me, I Have Nothing Left But My Hotness Risely is first hot cab off the hot rank. He’s (hotly) kicking ‘Me and Mrs Jones’ but is (still hotly but) disappointingly taking his cue from Michael Buble again instead of the infinitely superior (and also quite hot) Robbie Williams version. Now, I’m not usually a fan of songs where people are a’cheatin’ on their spouse, but this is a great song, I'm a total sucker for it. Unfortunately, HotCarl just isn’t the best singer when it comes to slow, soulful ballads, it highlights every (hot) weak flaw in his vocals. Shaneequa nastily texts to compare him to Aaron Neville. I sniff and ignore her because she’s obviously not watching the screen. HotCarl’s shirt is open (hot) and his tie is undone (say it with me, hotttttttttttt) and by all that is good and holy on this earth, take me HotCarl, TAKE ME NOW!

Holden has a spyglass aimed right at me because he tells BlazingCarl that there are ladies all over Australia who are feeling the love. I sit in my lounge and randomly throw new nicknames at the screen - IncandescentCarl, SizzlingCarl, ThermogenicCarl, ScaldingCarl, BlisteringCarl, SmokingCarl . . . sigh . . .

(InsertSynonymForHotHere)Carl's second song is the Harry Connick Jr version of 'Just Kiss Me' and is a fast paced Glenn Miller style BB song, featuring some seriously fast speaknotsoeasy vocals and a lovely moment with the brass section who get to tell him to 'get on with it'. It is laugh out loud FUN and is the kind of performance that Carl has made his within the show, not great vocals but high octane energy and memorable. Oh, and also hot. But you knew that, right?

3 - The lovely Casey picked 'You Give Me Something' by James Morrison for HotCarl and give that girl a shiny penny because that is ace song choice, it is in fact one of my favourite songs - drink! HotCarl is sitting on a stool to begin with and his shirt is unbuttoned to about his navel and Fosse and my jaws drop in tandem because - hot! Fosse likes to think HotCarl isn't aware of his studly status but I see the cheeky twinkle in his eye and I know that he knows, and he knows that I know he knows and ouch, I think I broke something. He stands and is wearing some truly tight trousers which, once our eyes are drawn to them, make it difficult for us to look away. I have to rewind the tape and not watch the screen to actually listen to the singing which is actually pretty damn good. Yes, he has the weakest voice of the three but for a ballad, he's doing a lovely job of it and you can see how much he wants this in his eyes. But he shouldn't dance. Even as hot as he is, he just can't get away with that.

Dicko was also worried about the ballad but thinks he's been super strong the last two weeks with his ballads - and lets be frank, us chickies like a pretty boy a'crooning at us. Marcia allows us all to slam down a shot of tequila when she proclaims 'YGMS' as being one of her favourite songs of the year, body shots anyone? Carl? Kyle loves that he's been so constant the last couple of weeks and reiterates that with HotCarl, you know exactly what kind of artist you're getting. Mark highlights the importance of picking the right key (and barely restrains himself from 'sneezing' Natalie's name) as it made his pitch problems much less noticeable.

The Idol producers are trying to kill me. HotCarl's photo shoot is DELICOUS. If we could persuade him and The Gauc to combine their DNA and bear girl childs, Australia would win every Miss Universe/World beauty pageant FOR THE REST OF TIME. He almost paralyses me with his insane hotness - seriously, there is one shot of him sitting on the ground with his trumpet in the foreground that I had to pause the tape on because I had lost the ability to BREATHE IN AND OUT. He gives me a break by being not quite as great or pretty when he performs Stevie Wonders 'For Once In My Life'. Of couse, it goes without saying that it's the Michael Buble version. (You should drink now too.) He throws some emotional angst into his performance and nicely pounds the line "this is mine, you can't take it" and is doing quite well . . . until he terribly unwisely decides to attempt a falsetto and hurts my ears and WHY, HotCarl, WHY would you hurt me??!!

Mark calls him a truly likeable guy and dubs him Idol's MIC (Most Improved Contestant) and queries if he thinks he has the vocal chops he should, but commends his timing and how he works with the band. Dicko feels let down by all the contestants, saying the difference between going home now and going to the Opera House is immense and he expected more from them all, he berates HotCarl for just going through the motions and allowing the situation and the judges to make him nervous. Mark pipes in that the toughest judges are the Aria charts in two years annnnnnd I'll be surprised if HotCarl is impacting the Aria's in two years time, Mark. Natalie or Matt might and even that's questionable. Marcia loved him and thinks the charts will too and Kyle just thinks he needs a couple of Justin Timberlake dance moves. HotCarl twirls prettily on the spot and HotCarl? To do JT justice, a Jaunty Hat you most doff, it makes all the difference. Seriously, when JT came out wearing the Jaunty Hat, I APPLAUDED. Ask Shaneequa.

And then there were two . . .

The Gauc, HotCarl and the other two make four. And then three.

Okay. This time I have a legitmate excuse for being soooo late with the Idol recap. Someone had to mediate the altercation between The Clooney and Fabio, and The Clooney only trusts me for that kind of thing; what can I say, yes it is hard to have him lean on me constantly and always be on the phone asking for help and advice – FYI, I’m the one who hooked him up with Soderbergh in the first place and who laughingly suggested one night over wine and cheese in George’s Italian villa that they remake Oceans Eleven and who knew they’d take me seriously, you know he offered to give me his Syriana Oscar as a thank you but I couldn’t, I mean, could I??! – but really, who else can he turn to? I’m also the one who made that whole Spice Girls reunion tour thing happen, all those girls needed was a night of horror movies, gossip, facials and chocolate – sleepovers cure EVERYTHING. I’m known in certain circles* as the pop culture UN - you know if Britney would just return my calls, I could sort out that whole mess for her too. (PS, Brit? Underwear at all times and rehab. Look into both! Kisses, Lulah xx)

* yes, these circles may exist only in my mind but MAN, it’s a happy happy circle-y place where; Veronica Mars is in its fourth season and Kirsten Bell has received many many awards; Firefly is on permanent shirtless Nathan Fillion/Alan Tudyk/Adam Baldwin/Jewel Staite rotation; Gwyneth Paltrow never won the Oscar over Cate Blanchett; Al Gore is President; I got to go to at least ONE of the Crowded House re-union concerts; David Tennant and The Clooney are happy to share me on an extremely fair and equitable roster system; and Chanel Cole won Season Two of Idol and was swiftly dubbed Dame by the Queen. See! Happy. Go there and try it for yourself for a while, you’ll see . . . I’ll wait here . . . . . .

. . . . . . . . you back? Right. First things first, a quick recap of Swing night. Big Band. Judy Garland and Mickey Rooney putting on Busby Berkley style theatrical shows on a budget of a crate of eggs, pennies from their kid brother’s penny jar and the girls from Home Economics making the costumes out of curtains and burlap sacks - Big Band always makes me think of Sunday afternoon movies with Bill Collins.

Carl This Genre Is My Bitch, Right Natalie?? Please Don’t Take This From Me, I Have Nothing Left But My Hotness Risely is first hot cab off the hot rank. He’s (hotly) kicking ‘Me and Mrs Jones’ but is (still hotly but) disappointingly taking his cue from Michael Buble again instead of the infinitely superior (and also quite hot) Robbie Williams version. Now, I’m not usually a fan of songs where people are a’cheatin’ on their spouse, but this is a great song, I'm a total sucker for it. Unfortunately, HotCarl just isn’t the best singer when it comes to slow, soulful ballads, it highlights every (hot) weak flaw in his vocals. Shaneequa nastily texts to compare him to Aaron Neville. I sniff and ignore her because she’s obviously not watching the screen. HotCarl’s shirt is open (hot) and his tie is undone (say it with me, hotttttttttttt) and by all that is good and holy on this earth, take me HotCarl, TAKE ME NOW!

Holden has a spyglass aimed right at me because he tells BlazingCarl that there are ladies all over Australia who are feeling the love. I sit in my lounge and randomly throw new nicknames at the screen - IncandescentCarl, SizzlingCarl, ThermogenicCarl, ScaldingCarl, BlisteringCarl, SmokingCarl . . . sigh . . .

(InsertSynonymForHotHere)Carl's second song is the Harry Connick Jr version of 'Just Kiss Me' and is a fast paced Glenn Miller style BB song, featuring some seriously fast speaknotsoeasy vocals and a lovely moment with the brass section who get to tell him to 'get on with it'. It is laugh out loud FUN and is the kind of performance that Carl has made his within the show, not great vocals but high octane energy and memorable. Oh, and also hot. But you knew that, right?

Marty ByeByeBye Simpson does not care for the genre we call Big Band in the slightest. He could not show less enthusiasm, although granted his demeanour is normally this carefree so maybe he's hated ALL the genres. Well, Marty, they hated you too. I'm not even going to bother recapping him as he's gone, gone GONE, GONE I SAY Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaahaaaaahaaaaaa . . . sorry, I got a little crazy stuck in my throat there. Suffice to say, I hated his Dave Mathews Band 'American Baby' slightly less then I loathed with every fibre of my being his The Doors 'Light My Fire'. Now, if he'd done 'Light Me On Fire' and followed up with a practical demonstration, I may have been on board. To be fair (and it's about time really) he does have a unique voice, good for recording blah de blah and I might be persuaded to buy his CD, but I will NEVER see this guy in concert and should I catch him busking on the street, I would be FORCED to cross to the other side - the better to avoid eye contact and ear hurtage. Bye Marty, we don't miss you at all 'round these here parts.

Matt I Don't Understand How Y'all Can Look Past The Ridiculous Clothing And Hair And Still Find Him Hot Although His Eyes Are To Die For, Corby totally phones in Michael Buble's version of 'How Sweet It Is' - honestly, its like he's got his iPod in his ear and he's on the train mooching along to school humming it to himself. Bland bland bland. Well sung, but BLANDLY generic with a side order of banal.

There are whispers that young Matt has decided Idol Is Not For Him and the lack of energy and enthusiasm he puts into this and his second song Bobby Darin's 'Beyond The Sea' kind of suggests that might be the case. Also, his scat sucks ass (and is totally about to get shown the door by The Gauc's.) He gets the usual tongue bath from the judges and nervous tinges of conflict from me - I mean, look, I want to like him, he has a good voice and will obviously sell records for the SonyBMG Pop Machine but the Holden Love Train is all encompassing and doesn't stop at my station, it just whizzes past in a flurry of pastel and gibberish. Besides there's no on board catering and the intransit movie is always 'The Goonies'.

I had Natalie I Just Keep Getting Better And Better, Don't I? Gauci's aura read by Shirley MacLaine and you won't be at all surprised by the fact that she is the reincarnation of a melded Billie Holliday and Ella Fitzgerald (with a touch of one of Bai Ling's personalities dressing her.) She comes out to sing the Natalie Cole version of 'Orange Coloured Sky' in a yellow and black beestung number that might have worked if it had been longer in the skirt but who the fuck cares what she's wearing because how frigging awesome does she sound? Her voice PUNCHES through the screen with power and energy and gosh but isn't she having fun?! She moves in time to the jazzy gorgeousness of the beat and my girl crush on her is just in total full on throbbing love, I am love struck. She rocks. In fact, she may be my second favourite girl ever on this show (no one will ever replace Chanel in my heart, but you come close Gauc.)

I own an Ella CD but I'm still not overly familiar with 'How High The Moon', however I don't think you need to be to know that with this final performance of the night, The Gauc has stamped her ownership over this show like a cat marking its territory (yes, that is so much nastier than I expected it to be and I really should have come up with a better analogy.) She bought Big Band and not on sale, she paid full price, and she either made Carl cry a little in the green room or totally and utterly turned him on - and why not, she did me, that dress is KILLER hot and . . . I am straight Mum, I promise, but you've seen her right? She's making it difficult to keep the hetero in my sexual. Her scat is nothing short of brilliant and the whole fantastic thing gets her a Touchdown for the third week in a row. She's just competing with herself at this point as far as I'm concerned, there isn't anyone who comes close to her level of performance, vocally and visually.

Right. So that's that one done. We all danced the victory dance of Go Home, Marty on Monday (although I was at Justin Timberlake and was too busy enjoying the Jaunty Hat, the fab dance moves and the KICK ASS version of 'Cry Me A River' that he did that FINALLY rid my mind of the godawful Daniel Mehsdud version, to do more than a short victory jig. But lo, it was gleeful, ohhhhhh was it gleeful . . . ) and now we move on to . . . . sigh . . . a hard night for me to recap. Coming from the brilliance that was Big Band to the sadly not great but in fact kind of low depths of Is It Over Yet-ness that Audience/Contestants Choice reached. There were only two good performances and neither of them belonged to Matt, so Matt fans, stop reading now.

Gauci Gauci Gauci Oi Oi OY. Audience member Chris puports to be a fan of The Gauc. I ask him then, WHY did he choose Madonna's 'Ray Of Light' for her to sing? Madonna's version has layer after layer of studio distort-y goodness (much like a trifle) and must give Madge heartburn to try and replicate on stage. Natalie suffers much the same fate - she doesn't start off bad, the start is lovely and soulful and very promising - but then she caterwauls into a key that she can not reach comfortably. She looks like she's straining to get there and you can hear it in the top notes, her eyes get The Crazy again which we haven't seen for a while. I HATE that it's not brilliant when she's been so fucking amazing for the last month - gah, I don't want people to vote on this (or rather, NOT vote on this) and forget the awesomeness of 'All The Boys In Town' and 'Man In The Mirror' and practically everything else she's done - Britpop week excused from this list with a note from its mother.

Mark calls her a ray of light but laments that it was a half step too high, whilst Dicko tells her she's an energy saving ray of light and time to move on from the joke now, boys. He shakes his head and notes she's gone from drama and theatre and snapped back to mundane and suburban. Bad song choice, Nat, BAD. Marcia gives her the opp to defend herself and Nat cops to being nervous about the potential Opera House thing in two weeks. Kyle gives it to her straight, calling it a disaster and the worst thing he's seen her do. But lets be fair, her worst is still fathoms better than most people's best, Kyle so back the fuck off.

Her next song is preceded by the annual posing for their CD covers schtick - unsurprisingly, The Gauc looks unbelievably beautiful. She has great eyes, you could DROWN in them and not want to come up for air. Her own song choice is Pink's 'Nobody Knows' and THIS is more like it. By the gods, she sings this well. She builds it superbly and emotes the hell out of it. It really suits that husky natural break that she has in her vocals. MUCH better song choice and outstanding execution. Now go put Natalie in your phone message text area place thing and send to 19 10 10.
Kyle smiles that it was much better and more her, but wishes she'd gotten grubbier with the vocals. Mark calls it a cracking performance, the pitch was perfect, the angst/sadness/intepretation, it was her giving it her all. Dicko's disappointment from her first performance has been swept away as she pulled a rabbit out of her jacksie and I'm sorry, did Dicko just get away with saying Nat pulled a rabbit out of her arse during this timeslot - is that allowed? How did Mathieson and G not jump on that??!! Marcia says that from a woman's point of view, she knew that Natalie felt every single word she sang. Did she feel it in her jacksie though, Marcia?

The lovely Casey picked 'You Give Me Something' by James Morrison for HotCarl and give that girl a shiny penny because that is ace song choice, it is in fact one of my favourite songs - drink! HotCarl is sitting on a stool to begin with and his shirt is unbuttoned to about his navel and Fosse and my jaws drop in tandem because - hot! Fosse likes to think HotCarl isn't aware of his studly status but I see the cheeky twinkle in his eye and I know that he knows, and he knows that I know he knows and ouch, I think I broke something. He stands and is wearing some truly tight trousers which, once our eyes are drawn to them, make it difficult for us to look away. I have to rewind the tape and not watch the screen to actually listen to the singing which is actually pretty damn good. Yes, he has the weakest voice of the three but for a ballad, he's doing a lovely job of it and you can see how much he wants this in his eyes. But he shouldn't dance. Even as hot as he is, he just can't get away with that.

Dicko was also worried about the ballad but thinks he's been super strong the last two weeks with his ballads - and lets be frank, us chickies like a pretty boy a'crooning at us. Marcia allows us all to slam down a shot of tequila when she proclaims 'YGMS' as being one of her favourite songs of the year, body shots anyone? Carl? Kyle loves that he's been so constant the last couple of weeks and reiterates that with HotCarl, you know exactly what kind of artist you're getting. Mark highlights the importance of picking the right key (and barely restrains himself from 'sneezing' Natalie's name) as it made his pitch problems much less noticeable.

The Idol producers are trying to kill me. HotCarl's photo shoot is DELICOUS. If we could persuade him and The Gauc to combine their DNA and bear girl childs, Australia would win every Miss Universe/World beauty pageant FOR THE REST OF TIME. He almost paralyses me with his insane hotness - seriously, there is one shot of him sitting on the ground with his trumpet in the foreground that I had to pause the tape on because I had lost the ability to BREATHE IN AND OUT. He gives me a break by being not quite as great or pretty when he performs Stevie Wonders 'For Once In My Life'. Of couse, it goes without saying that it's the Michael Buble version. (You should drink now too.) He throws some emotional angst into his performance and nicely pounds the line "this is mine, you can't take it" and is doing quite well . . . until he terribly unwisely decides to attempt a falsetto and hurts my ears and WHY, HotCarl, WHY would you hurt me??!!

Mark calls him a truly likeable guy and dubs him Idol's MIC (Most Improved Contestant) and queries if he thinks he has the vocal chops he should, but commends his timing and how he works with the band. Dicko feels let down by all the contestants, saying the difference between going home now and going to the Opera House is immense and he expected more from them all, he berates HotCarl for just going through the motions and allowing the situation and the judges to make him nervous. Mark pipes in that the toughest judges are the Aria charts in two years annnnnnd I'll be surprised if HotCarl is impacting the Aria's in two years time, Mark. Natalie or Matt might and even that's questionable. Marcia loved him and thinks the charts will too and Kyle just thinks he needs a couple of Justin Timberlake dance moves. HotCarl twirls prettily on the spot and HotCarl? To do JT justice, a Jaunty Hat you most doff, it makes all the difference. Seriously, when JT came out wearing the Jaunty Hat, I APPLAUDED. Ask Shaneequa.

Audience participation member Lynda calls Andrew G 'Andy' and BACK OFF, sister, that moniker reserved for Mathieson's trademark slacker-esque use only. She's chosen Evermore's 'It's Too Late' for Matt Shave My Head, Please Corby and can ANYONE in the audience even hear him singing over the ridiculous screaming? Seriously - all of you, shut UP and let the boy sing. Except. Yeeeeaaaah . . . this kind of sucks. What did Vowels do to him to deserve this treatment? Really, what is he doing?? It's too fast, it's not the right song for him and the falsetto, gah, the falsetto is terrible. Holy crap, HotCarl performed the best song out of the first three?! By The Clooney, that was unexpected.

Marcia calls it incredibly good and exciting and well sung and my brow furrows with confusion. What? From the second he walked out, Kyle thought he had nailed it and if people can't already see that he is the best on this show and I black out for a moment or something because what?? I don't . . . maybe I don't understand English the way I think I do because my dictionary says those words mean something completely different to how I think he performed. Mark gets the crowd to sing happy birthday to Matt and THAT sounded better than Corby doing Evermore, but Mark thinks he's the perfect little ready made package. Dicko calls it the perfect positioning statement and that Matt should buy that woman a (non alcoholic) drink and I DON'T UNDERSTAND, DID THE SCREAMING TEENAGERS DAMAGE THE JUDGES HEARING??

Fittingly before Matt does The Beatle's 'Across The Universe', Channel Ten shows the Pascals Eclairs ad featuring Chanel Cole (see, even the ad people are protesting in the only way that they know how that another contestant has been allowed to perform this song; like Michael Jordan's number, it should be retired. It has been done as greatly as it is possible to ever perform any song - Chanel's version of ATU is Mary Poppins, practically perfect in every way) and I crack my knuckles in fearful anticipation of having to write angry, hateful things if Holden goes anywhere near giving him a Touchdown for Chanel's Song. And let's be brutally frank. Putting aside any misgivings I have about anyone else doing this number, Corby (who also looks DIVINE in his photo shoot, god the top three are phenomenally pretty people) does not get this song in any way. He just . . . sings it. Brutally loudly and forcefully and without any subtlety, there's no feeling or emotion, like he had his soul sucked from his body during the commercial break. This song should SOAR over the lyric because damn it, NOTHING is going to change your damn world Matt, MAKE MY HEART BREAK. Chanel, you ruined this song for me forever, because if you don't sing it, it is not sung. Damn you.

Every single damn one of the judges neglects to critique Matt in any way, shape or form, instead bestowing upon him the Lap Dance of You're Our Favourite. Dicko gets closest when he notes that Matt needs confidence and should make sure he can walk before he runs. Marcia just thinks he's hard on himself and that will make him a great musician. Kyle talks a bit about what a nice, virginal Christian boy Matt is and Marcia remembers this all backfiring on Dean Geyer so she elbows Kyle to shut the fuck up. He thinks Matt is a true star and is in fact the best they've got and Kyle? The Gauc wants a fucking word with you in the parking lot and she's going to be joined by her three Touchdowns and THEY WANT BLOOD. In short, shut up Kyle. Mark tells Matt that his mantra needs to be the same as Mark's, that he believes in himself, because he's in this for the long haul. Mathieson dryly notes that Mark's mantra is in fact 'left foot, right foot' and the wit of James pulls me back from the brink of Matt Worship Despair.

To sum up. Go The Gauc. Anyone else can be in the final two with her, although for the pretty (and also to see the total stupendous look of disbelief that would/will be on his face), it would be nice if HotCarl made it as well and Matt Corby went back to high school, got a recording contract in a year when he turns eighteen and they all met up at the Aria's to have a beer and laugh about what a crazy old time it was and how great does Natalie's Aria for highest selling album 'The Winners Journey' go with her dress? Shiny.

The Twilight Five

There is a fifth dimension beyond that which is known to Idol fans. It is a dimension as vast as the list of Marcia’s favourite songs and timeless as Dicko’s smile. It is the middle ground between Mathieson and G, between ripostes laden with dry wit and fierce defence of The Gauc’s dress sense, and it lies between the pit of Kyle's fears and the summit of his knowledge. This is the dimension of stupidity/vacuousness/confusion/Holden. It is an area which we call . . . the TallulahBelle Week Late Blog Zone.

*shuffles awkwardly*

Yeah. Week late. I know, I KNOW. But look, in my defence . . . I . . . have no defence. But I have this to offer you . . . last weeks recap, sans long boring dull reiteration of the Judge’s opinions, huh??!! Huh??!! Deal? Deal. (except when Dicko makes sense and I have to pointedly agree with him and obviously also when Mark awards the Touchdown that earned him back the right of Capitalisation.)

Goldenchild Matt Corby sings the highly overrated ‘Twenty Good Reasons’ by Thirsty Merc and I mutter under my breath at least twelve ones for not doing this song. He seats himself at the piano which I automatically allocate points for and he sings it really well, but I deduct major MAJOR points from him because he does not look at the audience ONCE. They won’t bite you, young one. Except maybe for those screaming fan girlys at the back, they might. Dicko makes the comment that if you put together a concert of Matt’s performances thus far, it would be very very dull. That is one Winners Journey CD I will not be forking out for. Marcia calls it one of her favourite songs – drink!

Sigh! Andrew G’s girlfriend Natalie Gauci is singing The Divinyls ‘All The Boys In Town’ and from the moment I heard she was doing that song, I said to myself that she would have to dirty it up because Chrissy Amphlett could make 'Ave Maria' sound FILTHY. God love her, national fucking treasure, Amphlett is. Bronze that woman. The Gauc infuses the start of the song with a nice touch of self disgust and busts out some lovely growly bits – it all fits, this is a song about being used and allowing yourself to be used by all and sundry and she captures it nicely – and just as I start wishing she hadn’t chained herself to the piano so she could stalk at us a bit because this song demands prowling across the stage like you’re going to have sex with every man you meet in a swirling press of sweat and fluids, she gets off the stool, marches around the piano and CLIMBS THE FUCK ON TOP!! She is begging and pleading the last bits of the song and when she practically STAMPS her foot for someone to ‘get me out of here’ at the end, my chest physically aches. Touch. Down. (oooh, two capitals.) Dicko thinks that the stairs were a bit of a cop out and says Chrissy would never have done that, she’d have struggled up herself. I don’t know, I personally think she would have hauled some sucker up from the audience and dug her stilettos into his spinal cord to get up there – that’s the risk you take when you go and see The Divinyls, spinal damage, baby, that band is only for the fierce. And The Gauc? Is fucking FIERCE.

Marty It’s Time To Ruin A Powderfinger Song Simpson is doing the Finger’s ‘These Days’ and god, it pains me to say this, but when he was sitting in the studio with Holden singing into the mike, he sounded . . . good . . . actually, he sounded great. So it’s the audience and the big scary space that puts him off. Bodes well for his touring schedule because RSLs and little community halls is about all he’ll be able to fill after the show. He does something weird to the phrasing of the song, I can’t tell if its deliberate until the second verse and by then, eh, it’s too late. His voice doesn’t actually sound too horrendously bad but following The Gauc? He might as well not even have bothered to show up. Dicko talks about how they’ve practically had to haul him to the performance nights and nail his feet down and I’ve had that dream too, Dicko! There is also quartering and some scenarios from Cube involved as well, specifically the one where the guy gets cut up like an egg being diced and . . . lets just say Marty isn’t exactly in the same condition at the end of the dream that he is at the start and leave it at that.

Tarasai You Didn’t Know I Was This Frigging Insane At The Auditions, Did You? Vushe sings The Veronica’s ‘When It All Falls Apart’. The song starts off too low for her and her hair has been straightened and bollocksed with to the point where she looks too much like a young angry Tina Turner for me which makes it hard for to me focus because TT would NEVER be caught dead singing this crap. The Whitney poodle ‘do suits her better. She actually sings it really poorly, her voice is cracking all over the place and it sounds painful. Her pitch is crazy wrong and this is deservedly the week she should have gone. Even Marty was better than she was. That’s how much I didn’t like her performance, she drove me to liking MARTY better than her. Ouch.

Carl So Hot You Could BBQ Off Him 800 Degrees Celcius, For Real Put An Egg On My Forehead And See How Long It Takes Risely is scorching up the screen and laying his hotness on Little River Band’s ‘Reminiscing’. Ummm. Look, he’s still very pretty and the dude has the best male haircut on the show by a country MILE (out of the contestants, that is – I’m not counting the pretty that is G). He rocks an open collar shirt and has a gorgeous neck but the singing? Not. Great. Weak actually, really really weak. Downgrade. LukewarmCarl. How the mighty have fallen. But his smile, oh his smile . . . alright, fine. Back up to ThreeHourOldHotWaterBottleCarl and let's leave it there.

The recap showed the night BELONGED to Natalie. So she should have sat on a couch of her own with a sign above it that read ‘Those seated here not anywhere near the bottom three’ but once again the world made no sense and not only did she bottom three but she suspiciously bottom two’d with Little Miss Tarasai. I call shenanigans.

On to Big Band – quick recap before the real thing (which WILL be done in a timely fashion, I’ve done a Time Management Course and learned all kinds of shit!), Natalie continued the Ownage of Idol, Marty sucked in a way that was stupendously awful and awesome all at the same time, ThreeHourOldHotWaterBottleCarl broke all known previously held names and forced me to look up thesaurus definitions of Hot and Matt bored everyone to tears. Marty to go. Right? Seriously, I can’t take much more of him . . .