The brilliant Declan Lynch has once again confirmed that our civilisation has come to an end and that we have been taken over by Rock N’ Roll hating aliens.
Lynch was commentating on the cultural effect of The X-Factor, which we shall refer to as the world of wank for the sake of argument.
Contestants are frequently performing a song called To Make You Feel My Love on this season’s show. Readers will be aware that this song was written by Bob Dylan, who, unlike some of Munster’s star signings this season, has actually played at Thomond Park.
However, Dylan does not get any credit for the song, although Adele Blankbrain does. They obviously believe she wrote it when she was two. Maybe they believe she was older then but she’s younger than that now.
But why was Dylan’s name omitted? Was it just an oversight?
Some believe it was was , but Lynch delves deeper and proves that it was not. Dismissing the idea that ignoring Dylan was just an editing error he sensationally proves that it is in fact a fiendish ploy to subvert whatever musical intelligence the contestants have left, thus sucking them deeper into the world of wank, using much the same methods as snakes that suffocate their prey before swallowing them entire.
Lynch brilliantly argues that X-Factor chiefs won’t allow words like Bob Dylan to be mentioned on the show for ideological reasons – in much the same way that the old USSR wouldn’t mistakenly utter the words Coca Cola or Rock N’ Roll, lest the natives begin to grow restless and start developing notions about their environment – and start taking clawhammers to the Berlin Wall.
Similarly, X-Factor chiefs reckon that if contestants become aware of words such as Dylan, Leonard Cohen or even Morrissey, that they could start developing some sort of collective artificial intelligence, evolving upwards into a state similar to when, after a downing half a gallon of porter, you’re laughing at Pat Shortt only to sober up and realise in horror that his show is a national embarrassment, that he is to comedy what The X-Factor is to music.
Hence, X-Factor bosses have erected firewalls around the studio to filter out those Dylanesque viruses, lest they download through the system.
For if contestants start citing Dylan, and his subversive ilk, next thing you know acne-ridden teenagers would be learning how to play the guitar and, horror, musical instruments in general, whilst demanding to play original music, live on national TV.
And where would a music show be if you start allowing musicians take part?
Likewise, The X-Factor, like the old USSR, cannot afford to let certain words slip out in relation to any type of originality, lest their entire edifice comes tumbling down around their ears.
Deep in the heart of The X-Factor there lurks a pathological fear of the likes of Dylan with their original music, genius and such. For these boys and girls are everything that The X-Factor, whose entire raison d’etre is to keep their contestants and audience in a perpetual state of clap-happy ignorance, is not.
Meanwhile, a darker malaise is beginning to emerge on said show. In the not so distant past a singer, who we shall refer to as a bastard for the sake or argument, desecrated Cohen’s Hallelujah to such an extent that she/he was cited to Amnesty International.
The audience, having availed of the obligatory full frontal lobotomy on entering the X-Factor building, loved it though. However, the vast majority of people involved in the show and the ones out in tellyland didn’t know that the song was written by the incomparable Cohen – it is also forbidden to mention his name on the X-Factor.
Anyway, the above song by Dylan is now evolving into a modern day classic, but its creator is not being credited because the vast majority of the population consciously choose to remain musically illiterate.
Then again maybe we have a tendency to think a bit too deeply about music, unlike others, who treat it as a backdrop to a night out.
Maybe the Beautiful South were right and musicians should just “give them a chorus and that bit at the end where they wail on and on about the loss of a friend.”
Meantime, The X-Factor goes out live each Saturday night. Tune in next weekend and get a load of an arsehole from Wigan making a total bollocks of Under Pressure.
That would be the old classic penned by the spawn of Satan – Jedward. Right?