Ok, I’m going to say it….I – Lordy I don’t think I can. Ummmmm….. I uggggghhhhhrrrraaaggghh-ack-ack-ack, hujaaaaaaaaaaah-I-I-I-blooooge- I love Beyoncé!
This is a sudden thing. Before last weekend I could, frankly, take or leave her. ‘Bootylicious’? I don’t think so. ‘I’m a Survivor!’ I’m sure you are. ‘But you’re just a boy.” Yes I am, LEAVE ME ALONE! Aaaaah, but then she was on X-Factor and suddenly a veil was lifted. Here were all these wannabees yearning to be Global Superstars and in strolled Ms Knowles and showed them all How. It. Is. Done.
To think that a vocally rangeless running-to-fat runt like Eoghan Quigg could ever imagine reaching anywhere near the level of a performer like Beyoncé. Holy Mackerel, even the fact that he’s thinking about it makes me want to parade his ‘smiling’ severed head down the High Street even more than usual, which is statistically impossible as then I probably wouldn’t be able to breathe for my brain being so jampacked with decapitative thoughts.
But c’mon, check out the videos and tell me you’re not impressed by the way Mrs Jay-Z holds the entire audience in the palm of her hand and makes a grown man go ‘awwww shucks’ like Bashful the Dwarf at the end of her solo spot. Now normally I don’t have time for waterworks merchants, but I can perfectly understand why Alex became a gibbering wreck at Beyoncé’s feet, such is her pulsating confidence and radiant talent. Yeah, her voice might not be a barely bridled force of nature like Leona’s, but it is a perfectly controlled instrument that makes Alex’s basso profundo warble sound like a suicidally-doped Sonia, and I am now a fully-paid up member of the Beyoncé Knowles Fan Club.
Will Young, Girls Aloud, Barbra Streisand, and now Beyoncé. I am The Gaylord.