Nobody's Perfect- and that includes Jessie J

As an unashamed X Factor fan, I was apprehensive about BBC's new talent show The Voice. It was the unique format, however, that enticed me to watch the first episode. I've since found myself watching it every Saturday night for the last three weeks- perhaps an indication of the exciting life I lead as an intern living with her parents! Whilst the show itself is unique and sometimes reveals some great singing talent, there is one thing I cannot stand. That 'thing' is Jessie J.

Her dip-dyed purple hair, her loud clashing shirts and more importantly, her arrogance- they all grate on me. Tipped as the top music act for 2011, she arrived on the scene with attitude, singing about how she could 'do it like a dude' whilst wearing leather leggings and swinging her impossibly small hips. She was fresh, she had an edge- every pop cliche you could imagine was used alongside her name. She spoke in a cockney drawl and exuded confidence, making everyone aware that she was from the 'street', not a pop puppet from theatre school. Granted, she was a Brit school graduate- but didn't that make her even cooler? I mean, come on- this girl had rubbed shoulders with Adele before she was even famous.

The thing is, fame does things to a person. Whilst Jessie looked cool last year when she was singing on about how it most definitely wasn't about the 'money money money', she was actually earning quite a lot of it not to care. Soon enough, the once outspoken but likeable Jessie got a bit big for her boots. With her mantelpiece now displaying numerous awards from the likes of The Brits and MOBOs, Jessie started to believe her own hype and became a right royal pain in the arse.

 Choosing to accept the offer of being a coach on The Voice is easily the worst decision Jessie could have made. Unfortunately for her, being sandwiched between a music producer such as Will.i.am and the legend that is Tom Jones (we won't mention Danny for obvious reasons) is not doing her any favours whatsoever. Throw in the fact that Jessie is still only 23 years old and appears to have only been around for five minutes, and you can see why her credibility is flailing. The stupid expressions, attempts at witty remarks and arrogant demeanour are doing nothing for her career and go against her 'down to earth' persona that her fans originally warmed to.

As long as I'm skint and living in a house in the middle of nowhere, I'm sure I'll be sticking with The Voice. With any luck, Jessie will stop the name-dropping, silly faces and embarrassing attempts at humour and in weeks to come, we might see a whole different side to her. If she doesn't pipe down and chill out soon, I'm sure she'll be saying goodbye to her pop career for good.

Take me out (and shoot me)

It was an unwelcome and peculiar moment when I switched on to ITV last Saturday evening. Usually, I’d expect to be greeted with a old repeat of You’ve Been Framed or one of those quirky new game shows hosted by Davina McCall that involves running through different rooms whilst having fifty pound notes stuffed in various body orifices. Instead, I was faced with a man from Bolton, what looked like a handful of transvestites and a programme that I can only describe as an amalgamation of Blind Date and The Only Way is Essex. I know, I know. I’m incredibly late jumping on the bandwagon. One of the biggest game shows of last year, Take Me Out regularly reached 5 million viewers and became the twitter trend of Saturday nights. So am I wrong in saying that I just don’t get it?

In my very humble opinion, this show is less like car crash telly and more like a pile up on the M6. Some of the ‘women’ could easily audition for a stint in The Ladyboys of Bankok and the men seem to lack both personality and brains.(Hardly a winning combination.) The premise of the show is that one single man, usually still living with his Mum, has to try and impress thirty single women. Each woman has a light which she can turn off if she is unimpressed by the man (and then curse herself when she later finds out he’s the son of a millionaire.) So far, so awful.

If that wasn’t bad enough, Patrick ‘I used to be funny’ McGuiness attempts to enhance the experience with his own kooky use of vocabulary. ‘Let the shepherds see the pie!’ he yells, grinning like he’s mentally ill. ‘Let the belly see the button!’ Let the onion see the bhaji!’ ‘Let the plum see the jam!’ BY GOD, PADDY, WE GET THE POINT. Whilst those with an average IQ of 12 might think that shouting ‘No likey, no lighty’ is part of some incredibly witty dialogue, I’m not impressed. You came up with something that rhymes, Paddy? Congratulations. I’m sure there are toddlers out there who have been more creative with language.

As well as the fact that this ‘entertainment’ programme is utter drivel, it clearly isn’t doing anything for feminism either. A gaggle of desperate women fluttering their false eyelashes in order to get picked for a date? I bet Emmeline Pankhurst is spinning furiously in her grave at this shambles! And wait, there’s more. Whilst the male’s application form invites them to reveal their educational qualifications, the female’s simply asks whether they have any ‘special talents’ they would like to share. You know, like the ability to be able to roll your tongue or look good in a bikini. A programme consisting of cheap gags, arrogant men and blatant sexism? Needless to say, for me it’s more of a case of no likey, no watchy.