Is Simon Cowell the devil in disguise

So they say that life begins at 40, whoever "they" are. If that's right then I've just finished the longest warm up in history and to be honest I think I've over done it a bit. As I look back at the last 4 decades, resisting the urge to calculate the actual number of days, I see the good, the bad and the particularly gruesome. I see the fat, the thin and the blindingly obvious, but I survived it intact both mentally and physically and yes I see now how average everything has been, but contrary to belief it's been quite a laugh.

As I sweep majestically into year XLI (nope Roman numerals didn't help either) I do see the irony of life and it makes we giggle, but at least my hair doesn't have that hint of ginger any more and the size of my freckles have reduced from phenomenally large to barely noticeable. So there was no drug induced sex romps with 5 blond beauties in chapter 12 and I didn't find spiritual enlightenment with the Tibetan monks on page 126. As I flick through the pages there maybe a few missed opportunities, but there were no visits to the SDT clinic, no transsexuals and as far as I'm aware nothing jammed in orifices that are exit only channels.

So yes I feel pretty average, a few inches short of six foot, size 9 feet (yes that's average as well), not fat or thin, the hair is thinning but I've so far avoided the whole monk look, wife and 2 kids, I know the average is 2.4 but come on give me some slack, Ford Focus (blue obviously), good job but no career and I can't afford to go on holiday every year unless it goes on the Barclaycard. I like my football, I'm not gay, sorry I was brought up in the 80's and just can't help it. Being brought up through the 70's and 80's means I'm steeped in capitalism and so there is no room in my life for either the bible or Mao's little red book thank god. As I remember when it comes to USA v USSR we won and to be Roman Catholic at the moment is like being as popular as the captain of the titanic, when as the water lapped over the main deck, he announced over the tannoy "Has anyone seen my glasses?" I do have the odd beer, but I don't believe what I read on every page in The Sun. So all in all I am quite ordinay.

 So all in all, I'm average, mode, mean, medium, run of the mill, Joe public, the man on the street, somewhere between salt of the earth and middle glass, dependable, stiff upper lip, loves a queue, hates to moan, likes the sun, but not too hot, eats curry, but doesn't exfoliate, doesn't believe in Feng Shui, hates the French, been to Disney World at least once, likes playing computer games but only when the wife is in bed, still looks at the sports pages first, then page 3, then the real news and yes after all that, after the scare stories, the studies and the tree huggers I still eat red meat and enjoy it.
 Some come with me, it will be a journey, maybe not on the shuttle and into out of space, but that didn't alays turn out too well. Come see how the world seems through the eyes of Mr Average, let me share with you my trials and tribulations, my thoughts and perspective, maybe just maybe together we can right the worlds wrongs, sort out this mess we are in and when we have the answers bottle it just in case someone laughs at us or calls us horrible names.

So Simon I want to rule the world Cowell, how the hell did he get to where he is today. He practically runs light entertainment in the UK and how did he do it? He found a way to make Karaoke popular, the past time of the drunk, the hen party and airbrush in the mirror brigade. He gave desperate wannabes a whiff of stardom and makes them dance to any tune he fancies and there isn't a Jager Bomb in sight. He is the new pied piper of Hamlin and we dance to his merry tune while he leads us round and round in circles, oblivious we gladly text in at £1.50 a time, plus your providers charge. I reckon he was sent by the devil (if I believed in that kind of thing, but that will be discussed again later) to capture our souls. That's why he wears his trousers up so high. Everyone knows that the devil's minions have no belly buttons. I don't know why, but thems the rules. Maybe I just don't get the whole reality show thing and yes I do cringe when I see my dad dance, but surely we've seen it done once or twice, that's enough, think of up something I want to be entertained. Do we really need series six or seven soon to be followed by Britain's got talent. How does a convince us to watch the same crap over and over again.

 Come on it's like Big Brother, first one was good, second one was a bit different then after that it was just a bunch of freaks and show offs. A couple of lookers put in the show just in case we got to see their tits (I still have the email re the model from the Mexican version, email me), at least one blatantly gay person, one dirt bag, one flirt, one male looker, Mr wacky, a racist and someone for him to abuse, one from the streets and someone who was far to clever to be in the house but wanted the life experience, fuck off. By series three it was all about people who wanted to be famous for being thick or wanted to get their weddings paid for and on the cover of Hello. More voting, more texts more revenue, what a cash cow.

Any way I digress, back to Mr high jack every Christmas number 1 Cowell. Now the whole Christmas thing really annoys me and it made me smile that last year he was toppled by the possibly the worst song I have ever heard, which was just once thank god. And yes I bought it and I joined the facebook page and when I saw the charts for Christmas I actual punched the air in joy. Unfortunately my eldest son saw this unusual outward display of emotion which is generally frowned upon in the UK. Now he is only 9 so there will be very little mental scarring, but I'm sure my street cred dipped to an all time low. Mr Cowell has taken the cult of celebrity to an all time high, it's not important why you are famous, just that you are.

It just seems strange that everyone can tell you who won X factor along with the other finalists and the judges but most people don't know the name of the chancellor of the exchequer, the man who just chopped £81 billion from the governments spending over the next 5 year. How can that be right, is the press so powerful that the latest David Beckham tattoo is more important than... well just anything else other than Simon Cowells latest gimmick to get you to tune in next week. Although if Miss Tweedy was doing next weeks show in nothing but a pink thong I would definately be watching. I know it's base and sexist, but come on that is a fine woman and her ex husband, well no one deserved that. Ashley Cole is not only the most hated footballer in the country but he is definately the stupidist. I mean, you are one of the most famous footballers in the country do you really think that pictures of you in your pants on some "Random" phone in't going to make it into the papers? Cock.

I know Simon isn't wholly responsible for our celebrity culture but he has milked it for all it's worth and surely the preferbial cow will run out of milk and sooner or later, preferably sooner. When it does his empire will fall and as it crashes around his ears so Lucifer himself will rise from the pit of hell itself and drag his sorry empty rotting souless carcass back to the depths from whence it spawned.