An Open Letter To The Idol-watchers Of Australia

Bobby Flynn: Hair today, gone tomorrow. And thus concludes my awful pun quota for the year.

Idol Watchers!

...give it up. Australian Idol has had it's day.

It's no longer the around-the-water-cooler discussion maker it may have once been. (Or playground drinking fountain, if my idea of the viewing demographic is correct.)

It's no longer a training ground for new talent - exactly how much world-class music talent do you think is in Australia? Let alone talent that would have the vain super-stardom hunger to audition for this tripe?

It's no longer fresh, or interesting. It's tired. It's hurting. It it were human, Idol would be bleeding from it's pores. Like Big Brother, it's been done to death. Let it die.

Because, whether you know it or not, it affects all of us. Piles of ads, reams of flyers from the contestants' fans family and friends, and some sort of Idol moniker jammed down your throat at every turn. (Telstra, I'm looking at you.)

Please, think of others. Bin your Idol.

Yours,
J. Statler, Esq.

P.S. I anticipate that I'll have a lot of pre-pubescent detractors commenting on this. So, if you can't spell, have difficulty constructing a coherent and legible sentence, aren't taking your Ritalin, or have some form of typing-Tourette's, then don't bother. kthxkbye! ^-^