Join me as I gaze into my crystal ball for this coming Tuesday, wont you?

(harp music plays)

Seacrest introduces Brooke White. After a typically lame video segment, she takes the stage and proceeds to hippy-hippy shake her way through a saccharine-sweet, schmaltzy Broadway ballad. The judgment commences.

Randy: Oooooooooooooooooh…. I wasn’t feelin’ it, dawg. It wasn’t a hot one. It was a little pitchy. It was just aw-rite for me.

Paula: The electric yellow has got me by the brain banana. Hot wings. Do you think this country will ever switch to the metric system? I have a lovely bunch of coconuts.

Simon: (looks at Paula) Didn’t understand a word. (looks at Brooke) Okay. Brooke. Let me tell you what it was like. It was like being at some ghastly theme park, but it’s really one of those transforming robots in disguise and it changes into a cruise ship, then the cruise ship is hit by a torpedo from a time-traveling Nazi submarine, then I’m saved by a group of beautiful mermaids who take me to their underwater mermaid city, but then I’m forced to judge a mermaid karaoke contest with Pauler bloody Abdul! You’ll have to do better than that if you want to win this competition. I think you’re in real danger this week after that performance.

Paula: Fiddle piddle middle biddle.

Brooke stands there the whole time with a crap-eating grin on her face, a thousand-yard stare, drool coming out of the side of her mouth, and muttering, “it’s okay… it’s okay… there’s no place like home… there’s no place like home.” Seacrest waves his hand in front of her face but gets no response. Like the true professional he is, he gives out the number to vote for her without missing a beat. The producers scramble to find a psychiatrist for poor Brooke— a cheap one.

(cue out music and fade to commercial)

Feel free to gaze into your own crystal balls for the other contestants, especially Cunty.

I tend to agree with you Scott.

I find Simon's "feedback" to be mostly made out of his choice soundbites (dreadful karaoke, cruise ship, bar at closing time, hotel lounge, metro station busker, etc).

But half the time, I don't find his criticism to be either constructive nor helpful.

The guy sure has a sense of humour and can be sharp, but I find his "feedback" to be made out of 80% shock value, vs 20% actual criticism.

Unfortunately, Paula doesn't make sense half the time, however, she does make for good TV when she's on her happy pills.

So the one I find myself siding with the most often is actually Dawg. In spite of his "yo", and his "check it out, you were pitchy", I don't mind him.

And for the record, this year's contestants have no personality? Jason the bong man has no personality? Holier-than-thou Brooke? (She's annoying as hell, but she's fun to take the piss at, at least!) Naughty David? Fabulous Danny? Crazy Chikezie? Growlin' nurse Amanda? Patriotic Barbie? WTF?

Now, let's look at last year's winner, the blandest, most boring, forgettable, phoniest bitch ever, Jordin Fucking Sparks...

Yeah right, Simon.

I call bullshit.

Jason Castro --will sing a song w/ a falseto and look in the camera with his brown eyes and a goofy smile..The girls will go for the phones because of it. The guy will still have the goofy grim on his face no matter what the jdges say and will act like he is out of it.