Forced to endure a substantial proportion of a certain ITV1 talent show this week (a remote control entirely bereft of life made me wonder if I should have actually taken Woolworths up on their generous “3 for 2 on AA batteries” offer…), I found myself slightly baffled and somewhat cynical as to the whole concept of last Saturday’s invariable feast of musical mediocrity.

Of course, an unjustifiable hype is to be expected (after all, ‘The X Factor’ is as mainstream as weekend prime-time viewing gets).

But when the show’s coveted special guest is a jumped-up, pretentious, former celebrity drug addict, who loses fights with hair trimmers and neglects her underwear on two separate public occasions, you have to question the logic behind inviting such individuals back into the limelight.

Clearly founding this week’s song theme choice on something other than the individual’s track record as a human being, perhaps ITV had actually based their decision on talent?

Well, if “Britney week” was a so-called “ratings winner”, each viewing household should be sat down and played the Mississipi-born songstress’ hits back-to-back WITHOUT Antares’ award-winning pitch-correction software ‘Auto-Tune’ applied to her vocals.

Should sense still not be realised, a hearing aid shall be prescribed before diagnosing clinical deafness.

By lending her array of pre-rehab (or ‘prehab’…?!) pop hits to a bunch of deluded vocal enthusiasts for an hour or so, Miss Spears was awarded the ideal platform for unveiling her newly clean and sober self to an eager nation of media slaves.

However, this time she returns with an allegedly brand new image, and a marginally tweaked backing track – cue five more albums’ worth of aural dross.

Also managing to catch the latest US bandwagon to Blightey, was Miley Cyrus (daughter of country singer Billy Ray) – famed for standing and smiling while Disney photographers plaster the words “Hannah Montana” beneath her glowing adolescent face.

She may well be accreditable with slightly more than this, although I haven’t the inclination to delve beneath the artificially sweet bubblegum exterior (I have far too much paint to watch dry).

It’s nice to see the old “it’s-not-who-you-know-it’s-who-you-were-spawned-from” thing still alive and well in the music industry though.

All of this, and amidst a handful of contestants who have so far evaded the boot-off, each “singing for survival” and lining Mr. Cowell’s pocket in the process (judge or no judge, owning the show’s production company and telephone voting lines is an arguable win-win situation).

Don’t you see? – this is all they’ve ever wanted to do, it’s their dream, they’ve been performing since before they were conceived and they don’t want this fantastic journey to end – don’t forget that one of their mum’s cousin’s friend’s brother’s auntie’s step-sister once slipped in a particularly sticky patch of spilt horseradish sauce, so please vote and help make a better life for her and her much-needed pair of new slippers.

Personally, I think success in such a watertight industry should be reliant on so much more than one further heart-wrenching sob story.

Yet, if the contrary is the decision of some bigwig in a chair, then this is what shall be preached to the people by the media, and the people shall receive and process the data obliged to them, and the purchase of CDs containing audible waste produce shall result.

Admittedly, the chair is quite big (and does swivel).

In the words of pop punk maestros ‘Eleventyseven’, “there’s such a high demand for minds that live in ignorance”.

You probably haven’t heard of them though, as Radio 1 haven’t developed an unhealthy obsession, playing their one single at least five times an hour and telling you that it’s good. Oh, and their songs are actually quite catchy, uplifting, and lyrically witty, thus steering them well clear of the UK airwaves.

As five became four with that Ruth lozenge, or something, being this week’s least popular karaoke wannabe; 2008’s X Factory is on the brink of churning out yet another identical, desperate fame-seeker whose day job is foolishly surrendered in the vain hope of superstardom.

Leona’s not doing too badly, but where’s Shayne Ward and Scottish Leon?

Still, that Diana one is a bit cute. Let’s all vote for her.