Tuesday, 9 March 2010
My own personal jury is still out. Although there's something very moreish about a guy who still has all that hair at 50 and who looks as fresh and toned as he does. Although, judging by the number of fag-breaks he seems to have during X-Factor, he probably isn't as fresh-smelling as his image suggests. And a smoker does not a great snogger make however many packets of Wrigleys' they chomp through. Not that I've ever thought about the possibility of snogging Mr Cowell. *Shudder* (although...). Anyway, we were out Saturday evening when the Interview was aired so didn't really even know it was on until I turned the p.c on to write on Sunday (for "write" read "scanned a million and one Facebook updates from people I've never met but know on a strangely intimate basis") and noticed that a couple of girls had gotten very excited with each other during the televising of said programme - yes during (I'm mentioning no names). So I had to check it out.
And we loved it. Notice I said "we". Yes, the Hubbs and I loved it. We loved his refreshing honesty (unless he's an incredibly gifted bluffer) nearly as much as we've always loved his straightforward approach to those appallingly bad and yet still-deluded wannabes on X-Factor (we've always agreed with his comments, even if they do make them cry - so what? So they have feelings - doesn't make them a better singer, does it? Well DOES it?)
He doesn't bullshit. He tells it like it is. He loves children. He loves puppies (I found a pic with him holding one when I Google Imaged him). He loves his mother and he clearly loves that brunette he kept beaming at in the audience. And he hated Sunday evenings as a child. My daft heart positively flipped and flopped when he admitted this. For I, too, hated Sunday evenings for precisely the same reasons. Like he said, the minute the Songs of Praise tune started wending its way through the air, that was it - like a noose round the neck of the weekend and all I could feel was cold, clammy fear at having to get up and ready for school again the next morning. Hated it. Loathed it. There isn't a strong enough word for how horrible it made me feel. Sick to the core.
"Ah," the Hubby says when Simon said he believed in honesty, hard work and the love of a good woman. "He must be a Gemini."
I think there's a teensy bit of man-love going on with the Hubs and Mr Cowell. But I don't mind. Best of both worlds!