BEFORE everyone gets into a frenzy of excitement over the fact that it’s The X Factor Final (ITV1, 7pm) on Saturday night and you’re all sitting with those texting and phoning fingers a-twitching, there’s something we really need to talk about.

Is it just me who thinks that Eggnog Squiggle guy looks way too odd to be a pop-star?

You see, I’m confused, because some of the papers are calling him a heart-throb but in my eyes, he’s as much a heartthrob as Bernard Manning eating a kebab in his Y-fronts.

And I know youth is preferable when searching for the next big thing in music, but he looks like he might still need a bib when he eats anything a bit splashy.

But it’s not just that he looks like a toddler that’s stumbled onto the set, he reminds me of a doll I had after I’d chopped off all her hair because I’d decided, age seven, that I was going to become a hairdresser.

Poor Suzie always looked a bit surprised, but once I’d got my hands on her luxuriant, nylon locks and fashioned them into what looked like an old coconut shell, she looked really startled.

And so does Egg, all the time. Plus Suzie had that same small but dangly bottom lip, and she blinked in exactly the same way. Even the eyebrows were identical – weird.

It’s uncanny, like having Suzie back in the room, albeit in a boy’s Dick Van Dyke waistcoat-and-collarless-shirt combo instead of her usual home-knitted smock and bloomers.

Incidentally, Harry Hill, God of early evening Saturday telly, does an impression of the X Factor finalist that is so spot on, it hurts.

In fairness, Eggnog seems a really likable chap, and I am constantly heartened by the fact that we Brits like to support nice people, but you have done your bit now and you have my permission to let him go, cross him off your potential winners list, because it is blatantly obvious that he is not the one with the X Factor, it’s just that a lot of people, especially Northern Irish ones, really like him.

And think about it – his beloved Diana, the sweet, low-rent Debbie Harry, didn’t have the XF either, so you could be doing him a favour. They could be back in each other’s arms in time for Christmas to talk about what might have been and what they could have bought with all the millions they would have made had they won.

Saying that, maybe that’s not such a good idea because while little Egg would probably talk longingly of lifetime supplies of Farley’s Rusks and his own personal eyebrow trainer, Diana would probably go for a big designer, but punky, handbag that she could then whack him over the head with for running up and hugging her during the semi-finals after she’d got booted out in favour of him, thus ruining the end of her song, not to mention her last ever, ever, ever chance of singing live before millions of people. D’oh!

It goes without saying that, all being fair, Alexandra should win. She’s got so much blooming X Factor, she could even win the American version. By phone.

The girl (whose mum was in ’90s band Soul II Soul, triv fans), is leagues above the others not only in talent but in looks (sorry, but sadly that must come into it – Michelle McManus anyone?), personality and most importantly, that elusive star quality.

Before you can say “teeth straightening” at the very least she’ll be on a par with the perfectly polished former winner Leona Lewis, and at best she could even be our very own home-grown Beyoncé.

But that’s what’s great about The X Factor. Where else would Alex and Eggnog be regarded as equal?

Putting them on the same bill in any other world would be like Oasis being supported by Chico at Glastonbury.

Use your vote wisely, dear reader.

And on the subject of phoning live shows, it’s nice to see that GMTV continues to regard us, its viewers, as intelligent creatures, worthy of their respect and capable of answering devilishly fiendish questions, such as Wednesday’s: Question: What was Scrooge’s christian name?

a) Ebeneezer b) Richard c) Paul Mind you, with Penny Smith as the benchmark...


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