Idol No. 5: The Marcia God Keeps It Real

Like the warmest of security blankets, that familiar Sunday night companion Australian Idol has returned to our lounge rooms for a fifth consecutive year.


"I'm moistening at the mere thought of it"

As well we all should. By all accounts, we are going to be treated to a year unlike the previous four, for several exciting reasons.

1. This year is taking place later in time!
2. Auditions were held in Mildura!
3. There are now four judges!
4. For the first time, the Marcia God appears to be sporting REAL HAIR!


"I heart my nipples"

There is, however, one constant. Although we all farcically imagine that the show's purpose is to unearth a new star, the reality is that the entire production has always principally been a vehicle for showcasing the uniquely zany brilliance of the Marcia God. This year is no different.

In tonight's first episode, we caught a brief glimpse of her singular grasp of logic ("I wanna take off these high heels and kick your ass with them!") as well as her familiar fetishes ("I wanna put my fist down your mouth!").

She's also put some pearlers on display on the slightly more detailed official website, which this year features bios for each of the judges. Marcia's includes a peek into her past, where she reveals that her first employment was...

cleaning in a bank and candy stripper in a hospital (2 jobs)

NO FUCKING WAY. Bank Cleaner and Hospital Candy Stripper are different jobs? Also, what the fuck is a candy stripper? Was she employed to remove the wrappers from Fantales for people with Parkinsons? Or was there more sinister Hines booty action in the emergency room?

Alongside Marcia this year we mercifully have a returned Dicko, the show's prodigal son and the most consistently accurate truth-teller in the show's history. For all his mediatised nasty judge image, his appraisals are actually for the most part delivered with real wit and insight, give or take a bit of brutal honesty. This is in stark contrast to the fuckwit Kyle, who is capable of even less wit than Daryl Somers' arsehole. I am thrilled to have Dicko back at the helm to return the show to its former glory, to capitalise on last year's worthy winner and erase the DeRouge DeBacle from our minds for good.



Of course, before the good stuff arrives on our screens, we have to again dredge through the obligatory and unlistenable filth of the auditions. Now, I love a bit of car crash television as much as the next person, but I will never understand the repeated insistence of this show's producers to structure the audition and editing process in such a way as to focus on the talentless hacks. There are only so many hopelessly ugly retards dressed as bananas that we can take as an annual audience.

Still, there was fun to be had. For example:

- The guy who declared his own voice to be "a strong, powerful voice that not many other people can sing with". Not many others? Does that mean that there are a small number of people who actually do sing with his voice? Anatomically perplexing, but impressive.

- The hack who labelled herself a singer-songwriter with a degree from the VCA and who described her own voice as "angelique".

- James Mathison's hilarious summary of one girl's horrendous rendition of Fergie's Glamorous as a "flopsy-wopsy".

- That greasy, horny guy who auditioned with his girlfriend with a song entitled "You & Me & Your Mother Simultaneously". There is never a wrong time for a decent bit of Your Mom humour. Nice.

- The Asian self-proclaimed hip-hop guru named "Noodle-arse". I can't even decide on what to say about this brilliantly awful moniker.

- The girl who spoke for her fellow rejects when she cried, "I thought I was special but obviously I'm not". Yes, that's right. Nothing like a rude awakening on national television.

More to come tomorrow night - stay tuned.