This weekend, vast numbers of ITV viewers will tune in to The X Factor, to discover if a stunningly untalented pair of singing and dancing Irish twins named John and Edward have been inexplicably voted through to the next round. And, I have to admit, I'll be watching, too.
Some television programmes are termed 'guilty pleasures', but with The X Factor, the sensation I feel comes closer to self-disgust. For the show's current series has plumbed depths of voyeuristic cruelty that make even Channel 4's much-reviled Big Brother seem mild by comparison.
This time around, the chief victim has been Danyl Johnson, a 27-year-old drama and dance teacher whose singing talent leaves his rival wannabe pop stars floundering. The Brothers Grimes AKA 'Jedward' represent style over substance on the X Factor
The Brothers Grimes AKA 'Jedward' represent style over substance on the X Factor yet viewers still keep them in the competition
Rather than the usual wan British copy of some American idol, Danyl is totally original, with the passion - and unpredictability - that marks out true stars. Yet from the moment he stepped in front of the X Factor judges, Simon Cowell, Louis Walsh, Dannii Minogue and Cheryl Cole, he has been under attack.
While they regularly urge other contestants to be more confident and aware of who they are, Danyl's flawless performances were condemned for 'cockiness'. On one show, when he performed Jennifer Hudson's I'm Telling You, Minogue had to apologise to Danyl after telling him there was 'no need to switch the gender reference in that song' if Press reports about his bisexuality were true.
From the safe house where the contestants are billeted have come allegations of this evidently sensitive, caring man - who in the past worked with disabled children - 'bullying' female housemates. He has also had to suffer a torrent of abuse on the internet and a message on Twitter labelling him 'more hated than Hitler'.
Last week's rock-themed show should have seen him surpass himself with Aerosmith's sweeping ballad Don't Wanna Miss A Thing. Instead, a combination of technical malfunction and hostility from Cole left him in tears (and I don't mean just glitter-eyed; his whole face was awash).
Luckily, the viewers had more sense and voted him through again. But each week, in a weird inversion of The X Factor's stated aim, we are seeing a potential star eroded, not developed. The X Factor once helped to represent the fact that talent could be found in Britain in the most unlikely of places
The X Factor once helped to represent the fact that talent could be found in Britain in the most unlikely of places. When the show began in 2004, I was among its greatest enthusiasts. Never mind that judge-in- chief Simon Cowell signed each winner to his SyCo record company, virtually guaranteed hit singles by the show's huge audience - a control of supply and demand even the rapacious UK pop industry has never known before.
Never mind that, aside from the outstanding Leona Lewis in 2006, most of the winners were mediocrities who, despite Cowell's grooming, took only a few months to sink back into well-deserved obscurity.
What The X Factor at its best revealed was a Britain other than the decaying, violence-torn, foul-mouthed wilderness of daily news headlines; a place where talent existed in the most unlikely quarters, where young people still possessed ambition and dedication (not to mention charm and generosity of spirit) and families were still united, loving and supportive.
The X Factor judges have condemned Danyl for 'cocky' performances while urging other contestants to be confident
The X Factor judges have condemned Danyl for 'cocky' performances while urging other contestants to be confident. How could this welcome arena for youthful hopes and dreams - far better than old-style TV talent shows such as Opportunity Knocks or New Faces - have turned into such a theatre of cruelty?
It began with the televised nationwide auditions which kick off every series and inevitably attract large numbers of the hopelessly untalented. Instead of tactfully sending these obvious non- starters home, the producers took to choosing the more grotesque examples for the judges, and viewers, to laugh at.
Now, this humiliation of self-deluded, sad people is a cherished X Factor ritual, akin to the 19th-century 'sport' of sending groups of wealthy Victorians to tour the local psychiatric institution and have a good giggle at the inmates. Cowell became notorious for often brutal judgments which, nonetheless, were always backed by profound knowledge of the music business. But his co-judges can be almost as rough without being as constructive.
All of them experience constant vertiginous changes of mind, one week hailing a contestant as a superstar, the next excoriating him or her as a 'karaoke' singer or a fashion disaster. The internecine bickering between the judges - especially Cowell and the Irish boy-band guru Louis Walsh - may have the authenticity of a Marx Brothers film, but it frequently stops the whole show, leaving the unfortunate performer at a total loss as to whether he or she has been good or bad. Rachel Adedeji was voted off even though Lloyd Daniels had a poor singing voice
In The X Factor's transatlantic counterpart, American Idol (also masterminded and dominated by Cowell), an acerbic host named Ryan Seacrest acts as an ally to the contestants, frequently giving even the mighty Simon (who's not that good at repartee) a flea in his ear.
By contrast, our X Factor has Radio 2 presenter Dermot O'Leary, a nice enough bloke but not much of a bulwark. When the judges turn nasty, the contestants - some just teenagers, let's not forget - are up there on their own. Each stage of the contest has developed its own special torture chamber. When the individual judges interview the singers or bands they are 'mentoring' and announce who is and is not going forward to the next round, they spin it out for the camera while the poor contestant waits in anguish. 'This is a very tough contest . . . [long pause] . . . but I've made my decision . . .[long pause]. . . I'm afraid it's bad news . . . [long pause] . . . You're through to Boot Camp!'
In one peculiarly horrible variant a few weeks ago, Cole visibly changed her mind about sending a young singer forward to the next stage while he was sitting right in front of her. Before announcing her decision, poor Cheryl had to take a break to tell the camera how awful she felt. Meanwhile, the singer was not allowed to wait on her sofa but was moved away out of shot by a thick-eared minder.
For sheer, unadulterated cruelty, however, nothing matches the results show, now with a whole Sunday-night slot to itself, when the viewing public's votes are counted and the 'bottom two' acts have to perform again for the judges to decide who stays and who goes home.
Danyl Johnston was reduced to tears on last weekend's show as he floundered during a performance of Aerosmith's Don't Wanna Miss A Thing
Last Sunday, the choice was between Lloyd Daniels, a nondescript 16-year-old with a frog in his throat, and 17-year old Rachel Adedeji, who over the weeks had developed from a gawky novice into a sexily accomplished soul singer, in talent terms perhaps the only real rival to Danyl Johnson.
Cowell had the casting vote but chickened out, instead ruling that winner and loser be determined by the number of viewer-votes each had received. So limp Lloyd went through, talented Rachel went home and The X Factor had another great weepie moment.
Then there is the cruelty of a subtler kind in the weekly spectacle of the terrible untalented twins John and Edward Grimes murdering another pop classic, yet still moving remorselessly onward and upward. And if they win, as some think possible, it will be cruelty on a truly hideous scale to plunge them, however fleetingly, into the terrible realities of pop stardom.
Last week's X Factor was watched by 14.8 million people, 50.7 per cent of the national TV audience, and there's no reason to expect any drop in viewing figures this weekend. I don't like what that says about us as a nation. Hell, I don't like what it says about me.
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