This week I'm mostly loving...

Britain's Got Talent. What's not to love? Well, sure the flatulist, Mr. Methane, was more than a tad disturbing. How can farting to classical tunes be anything more than a crude pub joke? I love a good well-timed fart joke as much as the next immature idiot, but even I can't justify farting as a 'talent'. Blimey - I should go on the show and write with my feet (Which, incidentally, makes me quadridextrous... and I even invented that word myself. Oh yeah. I'm that fantastic.) because I personally believe that's far more talented than being able to control one's sphincter in time to music.

But anyway, apart from the God-awful Mr. Methane and his rotten stench, I do adore the combination of the almost clinically deluded and the unfathomably talented. That, and the sight of Antn'Dec's post-performance poker faces when they interview the unlucky rejects, who almost always look bemused or enraged at being told their act was utter shit (and smells of it - in the case of Mr. Methane). Gawd bless them; they never giggle or sneer at the performers in the face of their deluded rants that usually follow Simon Cowell's very public dressing-downs. Now that guy really knows how to call a rubbish spade an utterly crap spade, doesn't he? As much as I'd love to hate them, I really can't bring myself to do it. They just seem sooo... lovely.

And of course, there is the genuine undiscovered talents that appear, too. I mean, it's just astounding. Yet they inevitably appear ever so slightly dumbstruck at the possibility that they might be really-quite-good. Even when Simon says it. Which is high praise indeed. He even managed to liken some chap's singing to a dog miaowing, and still somehow transformed that into a completment. In any other alternate reality someone would have lamped him. In fact, in an alternate reality he's probably been murdered in a frenzied rage by some disgruntled pop reject. That, or Dannii Minogue will have taken out a mafia hit on him. She looks like she might have dated some dodgy chaps. (For any lawyers present - Obviously she's a lovely girl in reality, I'm sure of it. She's probably a really nice person with not a hint of an unsavoury ex in her past. Honest.)

Oh yeah, and how come all the ace performances are preceded by little vignettes of them saying something humble, like: "Well, my nan likes my singing, so I thought I'd give it a go.", while the deluded half-wits with no discernable talents inevitably precede their performances with gems such as: "I've got the best dance moves in the universe, and I've won fifteen disco-dancing competitions at Butlins." or "I've been told my singing can move people to tears."? Tears? My tears certainly didn't come from the sheer beauty of your vocal range, I can assure you.

Hmmmmm.... Anyway, on another point - how is it still acceptable in this day and age for someone like Amanda Holden (she of very little 'talent' and much plastic surgery) to consider it her duty to 'preserve' someone's less glamourous image, lest their popularity be spoilt. Why is it any of her business (or ours) if a performer wants to dye their hair and buy a new top? I certainly don't issue press statements regarding Beyonce's new 'do... and if the truth be told, I find Beyonce more than a little over-done. In fact, every press photo I see of her seems to make her look like she's wearing bacofoil and has raided her mummy's jewellery box for the biggest and most garishishly tacky jewellery ever. Plus, how utterly self-satisfied must Amanda Holden be if she feels so compelled to issue sartorial advice to us non-celebs? I could accept the advice from Gok Wan, sure... but from a woman whose facial expressions range from vapid to slightly gawping (and not a hint of wrinklage in-between)? I don't think so.