Summary
WE'RE going to find the next Whitney Houston or David Copperfield,' Simon Cowell assured me when he rang to see if I fancied cojudging ITV1's Britain's Got Talent with him.
Two months later, I was sitting with him in a Birmingham theatre watching a 6ft 3in transvestite pull a singing dwarf in a wheeled box across the stage. Cowell lent over with a smirk on his face.See the full content of this document
Extract
Talent? I'll Be the Judge
'Piers, tell me, did you think it would come to this?' 'Well,' I replied. 'It's not exactly how you sold it to byPiers W'TALENT?me, self-balding, wearing not, said, train-he me, no, Simon.' I held my head in my hands, more in self-revulsion than anything else. Minutes later, a balding, overweight bloke in his 30s shuffled on wearing an ill-fitting suit. Expectation levels were not, as you can imagine, running very high by then.
'I'm a salesman for a mobile phone company,' he said, quietly.I groaned inside, and waited for the inevitable...See the full content of this document
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