Ian O'Doherty: And the winner is . . . ?
Talent shows have spread through our TV schedules like some hideous electronic version of Japanese knot weed, slowly choking the life out of the rest of us.
I have zero interest in those pathetic souls who go on to something like The X Factor or Britain's Got Talent and then spend the first five minutes tearfully informing the judges that they were homeless orphans who were raised by wolves and lived in a box in a laneway.
Nope, sob stories don't cut it for me -- in fact, if I could be in the least bit bothered I'd go to the trouble of making up some fake survey which points out that the person's sob story is in inverse proportion to their talent.