Return of the Ironman

Well hasn't it been a long time since I have taken up the tap tap tapping of the keys to bring you a post from the cyberworld of my head? Yes, the answer is yes. While I have several posts ready to upload, over my cereal and tea this morning I read an interesting news story in, of the three I was reading, the Sun. It concerned itself with the return of Column Idol.

This "talent" search prides itself in finding the best new writers out there and giving them a years posting as a column writer for the Sun. Now last year Dizzee Rascal was the spokesman for the search, which promptly negates all value from the search. Not because he's useless with the language he speaks, but because he is a rapper, and they have no business urging people to write columns. Someone who urges every young person in the land to "fix up look sharp" and refers to himself as a rascal clearly has my vote as a person, but as he adds "my bitches in dis club" at the end suddenly strips him of it.

And this years spokesperson is Jessie J, famous for making mandem famous in Britain. I personally thought, using logic, that Mandem was a pre-op trans-sexual who wasn't quite a woman yet, but not a man either.

So, this year's column idol will be the same as last year's piss poor excuse for a talent search (think a Matalan version of the X-Factor and you get the picture). So here is my prediction for the outcome;

6 young people will be chosen, all of them will have a sob story enabling them to make it to the final. There will be one person who is ill, one young mum whose promising school career (not pregnant and in line to get 5 C's) was ended when she became pregnant, one person from the "hood", one immigrant, one person who is overweight and sensitive and someone who is right wing and from a middle class background. The latter will appear to be Hitler's love child with Myra Hindley next to the poor peasants he is stood next to.

In all fairness I do condone letting these kids who wouldn't otherwise have an outlet enter, because why should your circumstance mean you're pigeonholed into being a mechanic or hairdresser? They shouldn't. Some of the entrants are bloody good, with increasingly tragic sounding stories, but the fact of the matter is that this isn't Make a Wish foundation, and this won't propel you to the pinnacle of success that is Britains Got Talent. This is a column writing competition, so let the writing do the talking. So long as it isn't a sob story.

I'm going to enter though, and claim that I had both of my testicles ripped off by a pitbull belonging to a BNP member, as I tried to put a leaflet through his door highlighting climate change. Then, on the way back from the hospital David Cameron personally kicked me in the face while filming it for a happy slap video, resulting in me having to wait for longer due to the piss poor Polish immigrant nurses at the NHS.

I think I'll win.