Hyland: It's only mock n roll

POTENTIAL bad news for Ashley Cole at THE X FACTOR's Rock Week. Cos by the looks of it one of his cars might be a bit light in the wheel area this morning.

What the hell was his missus wearing last night? Talk about a frocky horror show.

A pair of blingalicious alloys stuck over her boobs. Topping off an outfit which looked like a bizarre tribute to Cilla Black's infamous Royal Variety Performance basque.

At one point I thought she was going to start flashing like Cilla as well.

Then again, so did Simon Cowell. That's why he told her to sit up straight.

Let's face it, if Biffa had suffered a Janet Jackson style wardrobe malfunction Cowell's creepy hand wouldn't have made it from its resting place on the back of her chair to save her.

Still, we should give Biffa some credit. Her outfit was about the most rocking thing about Rock Week. (Or, to give it its full title, Stomping Behind The Judging Desk And Pumping Your Fists At The Audience Week)

More dripping tap than Spinal Tap and more tone-Def Leppard than Def Leppard, it couldn't have been more excruciating if Daniel O'Donnell had turned up on stage singing Ace Of Spades in a leather catsuit.

No wonder this week's guest stars Bon Jovi gave the mentoring a swerve. The main man probably phoned Cowell up late on Friday and said "No way dude, you give rock a bad name." Main problem? Half the acts wouldn't know rock if it came up and smacked them over the head with an axe. (No, not a guitar, a real axe.)

Biggish problem? Apart from Jamie Archer (Beppe Di Marco in a 99p afro wig) and John & Edward none of the acts even tried to turn it up to 11. We just got a load of old ballads.

And the sad truth is the only act to blow the roof off was Rachel - singing the mellowest, most chilled out song U2 have ever recorded.

Where were the poodle perms? The devil's horns salutes? The Kiss make-up?

Nowhere to be seen. Even before Lucie Jones had sung the "Where do we go now?" refrain from Sweet Child O'Mine I'd already made my mind up. The pub.

Mainly because she sounded more like a broken axel than Axl Rose.

But also because I had more than a feeling about what might be coming next.

Low point? Without a doubt, Lloyd turning Katy Perry into Kevin & Perry. He "kissed a girl"¿ and no-one liked it. A truly awful turn which stunned the judging panel so much Biffa and Dannii said exactly the same line about all the girls wishing they were the one he'd kissed. (Either that or some production assistant had printed out two copies of the same script.)

Elsewhere? Full marks to Simon Cowell for at least trying to stay true to the spirit of rock by doing something special with his chest rug. (Although, in retrospect, I'm not sure shaving it so it looked like a lady garden was growing out from his shirt was such a great idea.)

Cowell also won the award for best bet-hedging comment of the night when he told Danyl "You are undoubtedly probably the best singer left."

Then he had a go at Stacey Solomon's inability to move, which was a bit rich considering his own forehead suffers from the same affliction.

But his best moment came when he told John & Edward their We Will Rock You "may have ruined Queen's career forever." Er, I think Freddie's death may have beaten them to that, Si.

I suppose we should end on a positive note though, so I'll say this. I'd still love to see at least half these acts at Donnington next summer.

Trying to cross the track on race day.

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