X Factor 2012: spoofing Simon Cowell - Jade's out

Hello? Is it safe to come out from behind the sofa again yet?

I'm still trembling from one moment of pure terror on The X Factor's Halloween special this weekend.

And I'm not referring to Louis Walsh's hair, not this time anyway.

It's my own fault, really. Sometimes I am too good. If only I hadn't tempted fate with my words of wisdom here last week, perhaps Dermot O'Leary would never have had the idea to do his own unique tribute to Michael Jackson's Thriller, via the medium of dance.

I'm only joking, Dermot. That wasn't dancing.

When the dust had settled, out came the judges; all attention was on Nicole Scherzinger's see-through outfit and extravagant headpiece.

I'm not sure if she was attempting to do an impression of Cher doing an impression of what Cher used to look like, but she certainly pulled that off.

Wasn't it nice to hear all the cute new pet names the judges have come up with?

Nicole calls Jahmene Douglas: "My sweet little pumpkin." Tulisa calls Ella Henderson: "My little cupcake." And Gary Barlow calls Tulisa: "Fag Ash Breath."

Hmm, on second thoughts, that one wasn't so cute. You could hear the ripples of shock through the audience, and for once we didn't manipulate that!

As soon as Gary said it, I saw the headlines and the column inches, the TV reports and the radio interviews; I nearly fainted with excitement.

Brucie would have to tell a decent joke to get that level of coverage for Strictly.

"Fag ash" Tulisa clearly doesn't use the same minty breath-freshening chewing gum I do between commercial breaks. And neither does - according to her comeback line - old Red Wine Chops Gary Barlow.

I'm glad Dermot restored order in the nursery at that point, because some of the acts were, suitably, spookily superb.

James Arthur was relevant, current, and gave, for me, THE performance of the night. He was flanked by a dozen hooded figures with flaming torches, just like Louis Walsh's hallway, and is making me wonder if I've drafted out a recording deal for Ella Henderson too soon.

Others, I have to say, were genuinely horrifying. Christopher Maloney looked like some kind of creepy cruise-ship flasher in that coat.

And, despite the threat of just standing on stage next week and singing, the public kept Rylan in. He performed a mash-up of Toxic, Horny, and Poison. Either that or he was trying out the possible names of a Rylan Clark fragrance to be out for Christmas.

One Direction-lite boyband Union J tried harmonies for the first time and, when that didn't work too well, attempted a disappearing act in a fog of dry ice, but couldn't avoid the bottom two.

Many thought the judges were wrong to save them, but it did seem right for Jade Ellis to go back to her daughter, especially as she turned up on Saturday night looking like some weird genetic experiment between Catwoman and Xena: Warrior Princess. My kind of woman. Ahem. Sorry, where was I?

Oh yes. Jade's other problem was that, unlike most of the others, she didn't gain the benefit of a Robbie Williams masterclass.

And I won't hear a bad word about Robbie. By supporting Rylan he's stirring the show up and upsetting Gary just as I would. With or without fag-ash breath.

Until next week, be good. And don't watch Strictly.

Simon x

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