So here we are, the day before the X-Factor live shows start, and you know what? I’m excited.

There’s that buzz in the air, the frisson of excitement. The leaves are turning red and gold, the nights are drawing in and it’ll soon be Christmas.

Somehow , the X Factor, and its more-fun-to-be-around cousin, Strictly, has become part of the run up to Christmas that’s as integral as complaining about how early the decorations are in the shops.

Now I know there will be hundreds, nay thousands of people out there thinking they’d rather have their eyeballs gouged out than watch of a second of Simon Cowell’s freak show.

The Echo’s own Darren Slade wrote a column not all that long ago about how it should be taken off air for being cruel and vindictive.

It’s manipulative, pokes fun at people who’ve been told they’ve got just what it takes to get on the telly, formulaic and above a vehicle for as many of SyCo’s bands as he can cram into the soundtrack every week.

But it’s also all of life’s little stories, neatly packaged and beautifully told, and I love it. (I’ve got form – it started with Pop Idol.*)

For the weird-looking ones who can’t sing, it’s the chance to be on the telly (and do you really think there’s a single person left in the country who doesn’t know that if the producers say “you’re exactly what we’re looking for” rather than “wow, what a voice” then they’re probably not going to make it to the live shows?).

For the ones who’ve promised their dead parents or grandparents they’d give it a shot, the ones who’ve sung into a hairbrush since they were six, it’s the chance to say they tried, in the knowledge that trying and failing is better than never trying at all.

For the women (and men) in the over-25s group it’s an extraordinarily rare media platform to prove that talent doesn’t die as soon as you hit 20 (and you don’t have to parade in your underpants to have it, either).

And in what world would Sean and Sarah, aka Same Difference, have had ANY chance of a record deal, let alone one that stretched beyond a first single? (Google them. Comeback alert.)

But it’s all the other stuff I like the best. The failed boyband stars who come back for another go even though they know what it’s really like. The ruthless ambition of the singers who’ll trample over their partners at boot camp if it’ll make them look better.

The way Danni and Cheryl grin at each other in complete defiance of the tabloids’ “Cheryl’s prettier and younger so Danni must hate her” refrain. The way Louis votes for all the Irish acts regardless of whether they’re any good.

And I don’t even care that for every second I watch Simon Cowell gets £4523.87 richer. Why shouldn’t he? He’s not the devil; he’s just a man who’s really very good at his job.

So, come tomorrow night, I will be on the sofa, ready and waiting. What will the girls wear? What will Simon’s hair look like? Will John and Edward win us over?

Dim the lights, wave your placards: the show’s about to begin…

*PS: I voted for Will.

Got an opinion about the X Factor? Want to join this blog? Email sam.shepherd@bournemouthecho.co.uk with your thoughts!