Britain’s Got Talent!
Probably. I don’t watch that shite, but I wanted to write something relevant for likes and shares being the whore that I am, like your mam.
Seriously though, I do like to watch the final. That way I can tell who the next presenter of Big Brother’s Bit on the Side is going to be by looking at the fucking runner up.
I can then avoid all the fucking vacuous gobshites in the smoking area at work, when I hear one of the gravel voiced cunts mutter his or her name between B&H plumes.
I’ve nothing to add really. Does it exploit personal tragedy with sad music and an orange hue like X-Factor did/does? I don’t watch that shite either you see.
I’ll still prefer Leonard Cohen’s version of Hallelujah, no matter how many times an obese loser with a fucking dead granny shits all over it.
So yeah, anyway, the music guy won it even though that bird who loves getting her baps out promised that little girl she’d win. What a cunt.
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