X-Factor makes me want to kill myself.

Every time I watch the X-Factor I feel like this. I'm not one of these people who gets on their soapbox, ranting about how it's just a bunch of talentless idiots. Honestly, I do see the appeal, and I do think that some of the people on the show are unbelievably talented. Take Jedward last year - an absolute crime against music that they didn't win. If you think I'm joking then you're obviously lucky enough to have missed out on my 'Jedsession', which culminated in me getting to meet them and not being able to speak. N.b. NEVER meet your heroes. No, my reason for hating X-Factor actually lies in a rather traumatic experience on the show myself. Unfortunately, again, this is no joke.

This is my mum, Philippa Brewer. To this day she still thrives off her trip to the X-Factor.

I took my family along for support, although my dad spent the entire morning moaning about having to be in Manchester at all, let alone having to be in such close proximity to Old Trafford. I queued for about 10 hours, by which point my family had returned to sunny High Wycombe and I was hanging out with a man who was going by the name 'DJ Dave'. Surely you'd just introduce yourself as Dave in polite conversation? Anyway, it came to my audition and I was unbelievably nervous, like nothing you can imagine. First of all, imagine singing in front of a crowd of thousands, second of all, imagine singing in a place that stands for EVERYTHING you hate. Well I started to sing and the lady stopped me 30 seconds in. Oh no, the awkward moment when you realise you're so bad that they cannot bear to sit through your entire audition, I thought. "Sorry, I ent heard that song, you got something else to sing?" Who hasn't heard of Kate Bush's Wuthering Heights?!?!?! Anyway, I proceeded to sing Roberta Flack's Killing me Softly, and I barely had enough time to tell her exactly how much of my pain was being strummed with his fingers before she'd flung me a GOLDEN TICKET. Yes, that's right, my passport to the next round.

My next audition was two days later. Obviously I'd told EVERYONE about my success; I probably made friends with enemies to share, with them, my joy. I didn't know what song I was going to sing for this audition, did I take the risk that these judges would have delved into a world of music beyond the 'popular' one, or did I play it safe and sing the song that gave me my coveted golden ticket? I took the risk. It didn't pay off. The audition was in front of three young producers hardly older than me - at the time I was just 19, and although they let me complete the audition, the chap in the middle, the spokesman, looked left, then right, took a deep breath and said:
"Ruth, we love what you've got and you do have a great voice, but..."
"You're not really commercial enough, there's not really a market for this kind of thing..."
"anymore."
I enjoy that they collectively shattered my dreams and self-esteem - that was a nice touch. Good use of telepathy too. There's not a market for blue eye shadow but they still make that! I turned on my heel and left promptly, vowing never to return to X-Factor, Old Trafford or Manchester again. I have repeatedly broken one of these vows, but for good causes such as; seeing UnderOath, visiting Mel and Labour Party Conference.

So at last, I have admitted why I hate the X-Factor so much. I am bitter and disenchanted and I LOVE IT.