Simon Cowell holds more say than most,
So no doubt he’ll choose the host,
If he’s already picked,
Then the lucky prick,
Has resisted temptation to boast.
Odds on it’s Dermot O’Leary,
He’s smart and upbeat and cheery,
But what Yankees like best,
Is Ryan Seacrest,
A man so bland that he’s eerie.
But if he still want one of our own,
Then why not try lovely Steve Jones,
But if they can’t make out Cheryl,
His chance is in peril,
Then this welsh cunts chances are blown.
Simon may be thinking Cat Deely,
But Anne Robinson should host ideally,
She’ll weed out weakest links,
With her frosty winks,
And there’s no chance she’ll get touch feely.
Anne Robinson would simply rock,
She’d know how to handle deadlock,
She’ll silence the place
With her poker face,
Which she can’t move due to botox,
If Simon wasn’t being too snobby,
Then Noel Edmonds chances I would lobby,
It’s plain Konnie Huq,
Quite clearly sucks,
Xtra factor hosted by Mr Blobby?
There’s no chance it could be Kate Thornton,
There’s more chance of it being Grahame Norton,
Opens his camp mouth,
Somewhere too deep south,
Then boot camp will be renamed post mortem.
Though he may be at the end of his life,
Why not try out Brucie Forsyth,
One brief procedure,
He yells ‘nice to see ya’
And be dead before ‘see you nice’.
It doesn’t matter who wins or loses,
It’s a poisoned chalice, whoever Simon chooses,
They will feel the toll,
When on his pay roll,
Join the long list of folk he abuses.
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