In the early hours of this morning, I wrote on here that tonight's X Factor final, on which One Direction were and are to perform with a Rolling Stone, resembled "the stag night from hell".
It is to be attended by the bride's elderly grandfather, and by the groom's quintet of virginal nephews who cannot yet hold their liquor.
It is to be attended by the bride's elderly grandfather, and by the groom's quintet of virginal nephews who cannot yet hold their liquor.
I suppose that that makes Dermot O'Leary the hapless best man.
However, since it has been announced that she is to appear after all, what does that make Mel B? In what capacity might this occasion by graced with the faux-surprise presence of a 39-year-old former popular chanteuse who was unacquainted with Received Pronunciation?
Brace yourselves for the ultimate television car crash. Say goodbye to "no absinthe in Advent".
Then again, in this case, what hallucination could compare?
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