The emotional rollercoaster that was the X-Factor auditions has had me crying like a baby every Saturday night for the last few weeks.
But the weekend's selection process for the final 12.... YUK!
Every single wannabe blubbed to the camera – and hardened my heart to stone.
The sight of them all, faces all screwed up and ugly-bugly, weeping with fear, then rejection... it turned me right off.
The show seems to be sticking to its tried and tested formula.
As usual, the celebrity judges milked their performances to the max as they gave their yays or nays.
And, as ever, in the final melting pot is a stroppy trouble-maker, a couple of "if only my dead mum/partner could see me now" stories, the obligatory youngster who will probably be ousted because he can't live up to the pressure, plus the prettiest girl band.
I don't like the fact that sometimes it's more about a contestant's likeablilty factor than their vocal talent. But I can live with it. Much as viewers would like to think X-Factor exists to turn someone ordinary into a pop superstar, the fact is it is also about making money. And all those text voters' dosh adds up.
What I can't stand, though, is being made to feel like I'm being forced through an emotional mangle designed to squeeze the tears out of me.
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