It’s that time of year again, when autumn reminds you that you’ve had no summer, when you realize you have to spent Christmas with the in-laws again; and when a collection of stars, diamonds and poor comedians make their way into a room to sing and be embarrassed/praised by a bunch of people at a really cheap table.
And if that sentence was hard to swallow, it’s nothing compared to the amount of X-Factor we’ll be force-fed over the next four months. But we’ll still watch it, we’ll still talk about it and moan about it like our lives depends on it. It’s the reality TV disease. And would we have it any other one?