Whether she won or lost, took home the silver or the bronze (ah yes, the bronze - a tag one of my old sports teachers used the call 'the first of the losers) the appearance of the reality show contestant, Susan Boyle couldn't have been as beautifully scripted than a Snuggle info-fomercial.
Single? So what? Virgin? That kind of 'upped' the 'interest' factor for the tabloids. Lives in a small council home with a cat named Pebbles after a relatively recent lose of her adored mum. Just a normal working class woman with slightly wiry hair, a mono brow, a clothes sense that was perhaps influenced by her late mother and a voice to cherish. Pretty perfect to me.
Let's face it, she's just got it all. Susan ain't your archetypal Nicole Richie or Amy Winehouse. She just resonated with most us, proving that to be a not just a bloody so pretty face in a not so pretty time on the planet is a godsend. Susan doesn't personify 'perfection', but nor do many of us at the moment.
And that why we took to her with such gusto.
The fact her angelic voice didn't get over the line against a gang of very cool dude wrappers will actually be a blessing for her.
She will, not doubt, like her 'Britain's Got Talent' predecessor, Paul Potts, go on and have a quick, visual tidy up (mark, my words, she well) and go onto to sell a billion of her 'anthem' albums.
She'll have a fair whack of producers, editors (and Simon Cowell of course) gathering together a collective of big, 'anthem' tunes that are just right for the rime. Tunes that make us feel proud and even a tad weepy, even if we do have to download from Limewire because none os an afford to buy a CD anymore.
Can't you imagine Ms Boyle's Wind Beneath My Wings, The Rose, I Will Always Love You, Unchained Melody, thrown in a bit with a Coldplay fix of Fix You and why, I reckon Laura Branigan's Gloria could even get a run, sending Australian radio star Alan Jones into a spin and much 'ker-chinging' in CD sales. A few more mega show tunes, and here we have a cupla million already sold.
I don't care who Susan had allegedly told to fS#@ off the other day, or what kind of hissy fit she may have had along her 15 minutes, which has gone well beyond that time frame.
She got up here, did what did well and left it to the eyes and the ears of, in this case the people who matter, the TV audience, to decide.
I just reckon, Go Ms Boyle. But don't change your name to a much smarter sounding 'Boy-lay.'
Keep living your dream as we just like you the way you are . . .
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