New Zealand’s X Factor panel comprises four pompous individuals who like to pass themselves off as discerning in the field of music. To watch the show however, one could be forgiven for perceiving their presence as nothing short of fatuous.

Mel Blatt, former British female pop artist endeavours to portray an air of unimpressed nonchalance, while the other female judge and supposed current pop artist, Ruby Frost, doesn’t try to portray much of anything. She is what she is. That is to say, vacuous. Speaking of which, Stan Walker, also a current pop star, demonstrates his obtuse intellect in a number of ways, not least of all verbally. Finally there’s Daniel Bedingfield. Now he is an interesting character. Former or current pop star – who can really tell these days? – flamboyant in dress sense, metrosexual hairstyling in perhaps more areas than one and ultimately, pervading a gross deficit in masculinity that would cause most red-blooded males to cringe in their man-caves.

Admittedly though, when Bedingfield is not weeping over somebody’s performance, he is probably the most likable, or at least inoffensive, judge.

Blatt’s forced strident demeanour coupled with a genuine British accent is almost laughable, raising the question: why would a former All Saints member be required to make up one quarter of the panel on a New Zealand singing show..? The answer in my opinion: she is the closest thing they could find to Simon Cowell – another obnoxious British usurper. Interesting then that the producers felt they needed to include Bedingfield’s British influence; also the fact that despite his apparent Maori heritage, Walker’s fame was discovered on the X Factor Australia, yet is revered by the NZ public as a Kiwi pop star, so placed on the judging panel of a Kiwi pop show.

A worthwhile inquiry might be into whether anyone gave Walker a trial run before putting him in such an exalted position; perhaps made sure of his ability to form basic sentences. This leads me to wonder furthermore, if anyone has noticed the way that when it comes time to pass down the performance critique, Walker rarely goes first, preferring to sit back and listen to what the other three have to say before uttering with a mystified, almost stupefied look about him, ‘Cheer bro, I agree wif what the ovvers said eh, yous need to use what yous have got…’

Startling inadequacies in rudimentary English notwithstanding, Walker does fill his seat well.

Frost’s cute disposition, pasty skintone and ever-changing pink hairstyling does little to endear her to the masses either – unless the masses consist entirely of pre-pubescent boys. Although as the panel’s one complete Kiwi, perhaps leeway ought to be afforded – besides, it can’t be easy propagating a music career as an artist of which nobody’s heard.