Imagine being 18-years-old and announcing to an expectant audience of approximately 15million that you are about to sing a song that's the aural embodiment of who you are as a person. You then ecstatically trill a ditty called 'This Is Me' and soar off into the night in a blaze of self-appreciation. The following evening, however, you find yourself in the bottom two, only to then be greeted with the gnawed morsel that Simon Cowell isn't arsed saving you - even though you confidently smiled your way through the sing-off, while your competitors back flipped their way around the studio, highlighting just how melodically bereft most of Robbie Williams' songs are. Suddenly, you're swiftly ousted from a singing competition because the public finds all the remaining contestants, even a pair of vocally defunct jitterbugs with a severely limited vocabulary ("Um, backlash?"), preferable to you.

That's rough. But that makes for good telly. Well played, Simon.

To be fair to Lucie Jones, she was exceptionally dignified in defeat, and didn't at all have a hint of slapped bottom features about her *waves and Rachel and Rikki*. She even went so far as to say: "I'm gutted, but the boys deserve to be here, they work harder than anyone." Yep, because they can't sing, and have a tenuous relationship with rhythm *jazz hands*.

So why have Jedward survived for as long as they have? Because they are pretty and gleefully gormless. Their two little pointy heads bopping frantically behind the pretendy windshield of a two dimensional Ecto-1 caused me to roll around my sofa on Saturday evening, doubled over due to a heady concoction of embarrassment, pride, confusion and a sickeningly inexplicable need to nurture? Bizarre.

Their charm, however, seems to be wearing thin. Repeated platitudes of "We're just doing what we're doing and thanks for voting for us so we can keep on doing what we're doing" can only go so far.

They also have another strain on their chain. Louis Walsh. What in the name of Jaysis was up with him this weekend? What was that shouty, leaping leprechaun hissy fitty he had on Saturday all about? "You're not a judge, I'm a judge, I'm a judge Dermot!" *grabs glass of water as quick alternative to ripping shirt off*. Either the underlying sexual tension he's experiencing with Dermot (albeit down a one way cul-de-sac) is bubbling out of control, or Simon's ordered him to sabotage the Jedward phenomenon so he can have Max Clifford put them to work as children's presenters post haste. I believe it to be the latter: Dermot wasn't in the room when Louis was rather rude to a female caller during the Xtra-Factor: "Well, I'm a judge on this show and my opinion is respected. That's why I'm here and you're at home watching this on the telly… Oh and please vote for my boys next week."

Sure they will, Louis. Sure they will. As for you giving the crowd the two fingers after Jedward's performance last night... That was just pure class. Keep up the good work.