James Weir: Big mystery surrounds Australian Idol return

Australian Idol’s coming back — but there’s one major piece of the puzzle that’s still got to fall into place. James Weir recaps.

Prepare to have your feelings hurt.

With all the major free-to-air networks announcing their programming plans for next year, Channel 7 was the only one to go hard with the talent shows. They’ve got Australia’s Got Talent, The Voice – plus a weird spin-off of the latter. But the biggest gamble of them all is a revamped Australian Idol.

If they want success, they need to adhere to the one aspect that made all iterations of Idol, around the globe, successful in the first place: the mean judge.

It’s the only reason we watched in the first place. Before Idol even premiered on Aussie screens (Sunday, July 27, 2003. Halcyon days. Bec Hewitt nee Cartwright had just released her instant-classic debut album and Chris Hemsworth was only months away from auditioning for the breakout role of Kim Hyde on Home And Away), we were already hooked in by the promo commercials showing weirdos and freaks singing badly while Dicko insulted them.

Boom. It’s that simple. But for some reason, as talent shows multiplied, the mean judge got killed off. Its phasing out was probably in direct correlation to the rise of sad contestant backstories. On all the talent shows, producers suddenly decided to make every person auditioning come armed with a harrowing past life.

One-by-one, each contestant would be wheeled out and a prerecorded package would play, scored with moody Dido-style music, as their distressing journey was detailed by voice-over narration. The stories ran the gamut – dead family members, job losses, diseases and addictions. It got to the point where anything was being used as a sad contestant backstory.

“Growing up, my dad had a unibrow and I suffer from migraines.”

It was a simpler time.

Sharon Osbourne, a former judge on The X-Factor and America’s Got Talent, let rip about it on Conan O’Brien’s talk show a few years ago.

“They’ve all got something wrong — they’ve either got one lung, one kidney and they’ve all got somebody sick in hospital. And it’s like, ‘Oh Lord, just shut up and sing’. But then when they sing, it’s like, ‘Please stop it’. I can’t take it anymore,” she ranted before turning her attention to The Voice’s blind auditions.

“And it doesn’t matter whether the chair revolves or you look at them or you don’t look at them — because they’re making it like it’s just ‘the voice’. ‘Everything that matters is the voice.’ Well, hold on here … that’s great, but when you’re butt f*ckin’ ugly and you’re, like, 9000 pounds — what the f*ck are we gonna do with you?”

All these sad contestant backstories meant there could no longer be the mean judge because, if they were seen making fun of all the mopey losers, they’d just look … well … mean.

But it’s a new dawn and a new day. Time to ditch the sad contestant backstories. The revamped Australian Idol needs to reinstate the mean judge. We want insults being fired out like a T-shirt cannon.

The beautiful thing about the mean judge is they don’t even need to know anything about music. In fact, the less involved they are in the biz, the better.

SAS: Australia’s head soldier Ant Middleton is the perfect candidate. The former United Kingdom Special Forces operative-turned TV star is the perfect choice to be the mean judge. As we’ve seen in three seasons of SAS: Australia, his imaginative and articulate insults really cut to the bone.

Just this week, Ant delivered a line that I can’t wait to use on people in my own life, like my barista.

“Tell us something interesting about yourself because, at the moment, if I were to write something about you, it would be, ‘Boring c**t’.”

He’s brilliant. Like a hot Don Rickles.

Insult comedy is alive and well.

Can’t wait to see Ant tear down some Susan Boyles.

LAST-MINUTE AUSSIE-CENTRIC HALLOWEEN COSTUMES

Some Australians get so angry about Halloween. “We’re not bloody America!” We just need to localise it more and find costumes that reflect our own culture. Here’s a list of topical suggestions that require minimal preparation ahead of next weekend’s parties.

Karl Stefanovic

Sweatpants, baseball cap and sunglasses because you’re keeping a low profile after Lisa’s memoir is released on Wednesday.

Nadia Bartel

Credit card. Ten dollar note. Grey $3 Kmart plate.

Melissa Caddick

A fresh blow-wave because your hairdresser husband taught you well. A wad of cash. Cardboard folder filled with fake Excel spreadsheets. One shoe.

A Love Island contestant

Swimwear of choice. Urine sample. Pathology swab test.

A Hemsworth

Minimal clothing. No shoes. (Only appropriate for street parties. The costume doesn’t make sense if you’re indoors).

Gladys Berejiklian

A bob wig. Sensible shoes. Centrelink forms.

Twitter, Facebook: @hellojamesweir

Get the look for less! L: Nadia with her Kmart plate. R: Karl incognito.

Originally published as James Weir: Big mystery surrounds Australian Idol return