It was like a scene from one of those BBC2 nature shows; a succession of mummy and daddy creatures ferreting out their runts and leaving the pathetic, mewing little things to fend for themselves...
On Sunday night, X Factor judges each had to turf out a fledgling.
Hands were wrung, but you can’t fool me; firing folk must be a fact of life when you’re a music celeb.
One minute those backing dancers are there, the next they’re on a bus back to Bolton and a fresh giggle of lovelies are sashaying on stage.
But give me the brand name of Tulisa and Kelly’s warpaint, perlease.
As the waterworks commenced, glossy tears simply glistened like dew on mascara and eyeliner, then slipped down emulsioned cheeks like water off a duck’s back.
Not a sooty rivulet. What was it, Dulux?