Shaky Scouse Guy.

(note to self)
Backstage at the X Factor Christopher Maloney is ushered into a dimly lit room. “Sit down Chris”, a voice from the slanted light of a desk lamp. “You heard those comments?” Chris nods. “Gary doesn’t get it, you need to listen.” Chris trembles slightly, mouth a little open. “You started with that wobbly microphone remember, that was genius. This guys going to be shite, we’ll have a good laugh at this one and bam, you slayed them with the voice. You confounded their expectation, a nice guy and he can sing as well, right?” He nods again. “And now all these comment because that’s all you are, a nice guy with a voice. But you don’t want to not be a nice guy do you?” Chris shakes his head. “No, because your image of a nice guy is shit. ‘Oh look it’s our Christopher on the TV, isn’t he doin’ well, he’s a lovely fella, he’ll lick your shoes if you ask ‘im.’” The voice pauses. “You’re a ferry singer. Go back to Liverpool and dine out on meeting Gary Barlow.” Chris breathes deep and opens his mouth to... “Forget it I’m talking. Singers don’t choose their stage, the stage chooses them and at the moment the Rotterdam ferry lounge’s little semicircle playing to bored passengers looking at their watches and getting pissed is choosing you. But you don’t want that do you? Chris, body language isn’t scratching your arse means you’re randy, it emanates like a light from every movement and what we’re getting is, ‘I desperately want to please you’, yes? We’re pissed, talking, eating crisps, looking at the time and still ‘I desperately want to please you.’ That’s how ferry singers are, it’s their job, that’s their stage. You get me? Now correct me if I’m wrong,” the voice rises, “ but the X Factor fucking stage is no fucking ferry lounge, is it?” Chris begins to wobble; his mouth opens a little more. “Nice guys haven’t drawn a line that says this is who I am. They can’t because nice doesn’t include the hero, the warrior, the man who doesn’t want to please you; he wants to please himself, which happens to include giving you pleasure. Yes? The nice man runs after his wife, ‘Would you like a cup of tea dear?’ The warrior grabs her firm, draws her to him looking deep into her eyes and gives her the gentlest kiss, barely touches her lips. And you want to make us a fucking cup of tea, on the X Factor fucking stage!? You understand me?” Chris’s mouth won’t open any further, he smiles. “And don’t give me that boyish charm, it won’t wash. I know for a guy like you it’s bloody difficult but you’re going to have to go out there and show your naked pleasure in doing it, doing what you want on your stage and, from a place you’ll struggle to find, draw that audience to you, eye to eye and give it the gentlest kiss. Jesus Christ, Michael Buble got it straight away!”