I suppose that a small bit of me hoped that a show called Britain's Got Talent might just uncover our next Ronnie Barker, John Betjeman, Bryn Terfel, Ray Davies, Gerald Scarfe, David Gilmour or David Gower.
I was obviously misled by the title.
I'll tell you what Britain's got - what it deserves. But I hope the last act, a saxophonist with a soulful way of playing, gets the moolah. He held the last note for a good minute.
Update later for those without access to this circus of philistines.
UPDATE: Thousands of William Hill employees called in and averted what would have sunk the company, had Susan Boyle won. She's the one with the voice of a reasonable music hall understudy, and the body of a Trabant. A group of well-drilled modern dancers scooped the pot. As variety acts go, they at least provided variety. My Saxophonist made the podium. Ant (coulda been Dec) said that the evening was unforgettable. Try me tomorrow on that one.