The X-factor (flanerie.org)

Just in time for Christmas, there is nothing to watch on TV. The X-factor, which seems to have been running longer than Jesse Jackson, has finally come to an end.

Unfortunately my man didn't win. My man was Andy, after I switched horses when Journey South failed to raise their game. Andy the binman, mana from media heaven, giving rise to appallingly unimaginative headlines such as, "he might be a binman, but he isn't rubbish." But he was up against pretty-boy Shayne who had several key qualities, including being pretty, having good looks and also being attractive. Not that I'm bitter. Well...

Now that X-factor has a winner, two things will happen.

Firstly, I don't have to watch commercial television anymore. This is a good thing. I don't have to see Kerry Katona in Iceland ever again. I don't have a particular problem with Miss Katona, but her breasts put me off my dinner. When she turns to camera, I duck. If anyone needs to know 3D television is a bad idea, watch Kerry and her bristols.

Secondly, the winner of X-factor will be bled dry by the music biz and then discarded. X-factor is about entertainment, not about creating music careers. As entertainment it is 24-carat gold, but all that really matters is sponsorship, advertising and phone line revenues. The X-factor winner gets a £1m recording contract, but out of that is taken studio costs, PR and marketing, travel and management fees. And most of that is controlled by Simon Cowell so he gets to take all of his million back. He trialled the model very successfully with last year's victim winner, Steve Brookstein

The final irony will be when Shayne's dry husk of a body is thrown into the trash and is collected by Andy the binman. It will be a TV special when it happens, and for £1 per call, you can vote for whether he goes to landfill or the incinerator.