When they get back, the lads are lit up like very bright and sparkling fireworks. The noise in the room is up to ninety million decibels of delight, proof that the rehearsal was good for them. They all beam and look pleased. I find myself laughing and clapping and I didn’t even watch the thing!
Now to tackle the gluggy/nothing bit between here and show time. Mel is on to it (natch!) and sends in burgers, beans, chips, fish ’n’ chips, crisps, chocolate and cola: everything a teen wants/NEEDS to get into ‘the zone’. And don’t worry: there is hummus and carrots too (which I feast on).*
There is a lot of spraying out food while chatting because everyone is SO hyped. Weirdly the Dork puts his arm casually around me when I am standing with Dermot, as if simply leaning on a nearby leany-thing – don’t know whether to be insulted or worried. I don’t want to wreck his buzz, so I leave him be. We live in interesting times right now, let’s roll with them!
Make-up ladies come and dab on concealer where it’s needed† and powder everyone up to be a matt complexion, not shiny, at least for the beginning of the show.‡
We suddenly become the Place to Be. When I look around, I see Delia has joined us. She says she banished her parents to the audience early because they were fussing and making her crazy and even more nervous than she is making herself.
Then a tiny face looks around the door and it’s Jess.
Everyone gets introduced to everyone else and I must say the hubbub is LOUD. There is a lot of mutual admiration going on and that’s v good and, I suppose, a bit ‘phew’, because there’s no room for daggers’ comments here, with the contestants needing all their self-confidence to go out in front of so many people LIVE on TV. Maybe there’ll be sniping in a few weeks’ time when there’s a lot more at stake? And less people to love, of course, with acts going home after each live show. Cripes, I’m getting cynical – Dix says it’s realism,б but I’m not so sure.
Mel comes back and tells everyone to get set because the show airs in thirty minutes. There is a hush as that sinks in, then an explosion of activity as guitars are tuned and voices warmed up and visits to the loo are made. All of the guys’ phones are beeping with GOOD LUCK texts and they talk to their families and loved ones. Then we walk the corridor to the backstage area, a journey that seems v v lengthened, like we’re walking through a quicksand of pre-show nerves.
Standing in the wings, I wish all the guys the best of luck and we all swap hugs. Best of all for me is that Stevie Lee seems to hang on a little longer than he needs to. And I’m nearly sure he’s shaking a little.
‘Mad, isn’t it?’ he says. ‘It’s like Ireland’s very own Gladiator Games. We’re being sent out to entertain the masses.’
‘Well, yeah, except you’re not going to die,’ I say.
He laughs a little. ‘No, hopefully not even in a showbiz way! WE are the ones about to do the slaying.’
‘That’s the attitude. Now get out there and kill.’
He beams and holds my eye a tad longer than is truly comfortable. Then he says, ‘Jen,’ and sort of shakes his head and that’s confusing – I don’t know if it’s in a good or bad way. It’s ambiguous§ and that’s unsettling. Time to scuttle sideways and away,** methinks.
I slip into the audience to a small cordoned-off area at the side of the stage reserved for family and friends. I am so nervous for the guys I can hardly swallow or breathe.
Then the lights in the auditorium dim and a deep voice asks us to switch off our mobile phones. Everyone pretends to but secretly just turns them to vibrate or silent. The familiar Teen Factor X theme tune begins to play and the audience starts to scream with anticipation. It is the loudest sound I have ever heard or have ever been part of, and I think I might burst with excitement. The show starts and we all go a bit wild.
