Gentleman Jim

The papers love to castigate X-Factor for being cruel to, making fools of, and exploiting contestants; but there’s one thing the papers never mention: contestants’ expenses. In the 2008 Fifth Series, at about ten at night on my last day at Bootcamp, exhausted at a table in the room for contestants, feeling and probably looking miserable I was approached by a young lady. She stooped a little because I was sitting. She looked me in the eyes and said firmly: ’I was in the audience and I thought you sang very well, never mind what they say.’

I’ve practised eye-contact. This girl’s blue eyes were so steady. She was blonde, lovely, and sincere. I felt that with her eyes she wanted to bore into me a truth. Or was she just sorry for me? I don’t think so. Out of the 200,000 contestants, among the 120 of us at Bootcamp were plenty to feel sorry for. That she thought me worth singling out and saying to me what she felt dazed me a bit. Cheryl Cole’s ‘No’ still rang in my ears. I managed a weak smile and and ‘Oh, do you think so!’ Eye-contact maintained, she nodded, squeezed my arm and left; there was an assistant accountant waiting to see me.

That girl shall always have my heart and gratitude. I don’t know her name; I don’t know where she lives. All I know is she was a member of one of the contesting bands. She seemed to embody the good looks, talent and courage of those who get there. She came in and out of my life in seconds, but what an impression! God bless you, lovely blue eyes, whoever and wherever you are, sing, give pleasure. Be you. Fare well in life: those around you will.

The expenses. The assistant accountant said: ‘I’ve got these expenses for you,’ and ran her pen down a list. There were morning coffee allowances, tea allowances, something about lunches, the criminal record check. Standing out was a sum in three figures. I pointed. ‘That’s train fare to get you home,’ she said. ’But I paid only £32.50 to come down.’ She hesitated, unsure. Then said, ‘I got this off the internet.’ I said, ‘If you’d told them how old I was you’d have got a concession.’ She glanced round at the others waiting. ‘Look,’ she said, ‘I’ve got this for you.’ and she tapped the £140 train fare. I said: ‘Will Simon Cowell miss that?’ ‘No!’ ‘I’ll have it, then.’

It was weeks before I needed to visit the cash machine.