The X Factor or Strictly — a choice too far

IT’S that time of year folks. Hasn’t it come round quick? It seems like only yesterday doesn’t it?

No madam, I’m not talking Christmas, I’m talking the final of “The X-Factor” and “Strictly Come Dancing”.

Each Saturday night us innocent punters are thrown into a world of glamour and sparkle — no, not Simon Cowell’s teeth, although aren’t they white? I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything that luminous before, he must get them shipped over from LA.

No, we are scintillated by Strictly’s sequins and excited by the X-Factors, well, X-Factor.

Who needs drab Albert Square when you can “gasp” at the “luvvies” in Spandex on one side and “ooh” at the criticism thrown at the singers on the other.

There is something in this reality TV nonsense though isn’t there? I may pretend to you that I have no interest in these two shows but please don’t believe me. I love them.

I cannot bear the fact that “The X” clips 15 minutes off the end of “SCD”. It’s not on, it’s making me choose. It’s like a scorned wife. “It’s me or her?” it asks.

Well I can’t make decisions like that at this time of night at the end of a week.

I have struggled to get my child into bed, I have read Thomas the Tank Engine four times instead of the normal three to placate my little angel so he’ll be in bed 10 minutes earlier than normal, all so I can dash downstairs pour myself a glass of the red stuff and throw myself on to the sofa just in time to hear the odd couple shout “nice to see you to see you nice.” It can’t make me choose.

Throughout my week I think, “Who’s going this week?” “Who’s top of the leader board this week?”

Then I switch effortlessly to the other side. “They can’t get rid of them not this week,” I mutter to myself as all the best singers disappear into obscurity leaving only the attractive ones behind.

I have questioned my obsession with these Saturday nights in and I would like to say it’s the shows glamour or the good old-fashioned family entertainment value or some other such excuse.

But that’s not the truth.

Quite simply, I have a baby, I can’t get a babysitter and I don’t get out much. Can you tell?