Xfactor and chips

I know about Xfactor (a popular televisual entertainment, m'lud) because I've seen it. Simon Cowell's haircut alarms me and the Louis person annoys me, but my reasons for not watching regularly are my reasons for not watching TV regularly: I never know when something embarrassing is about to happen. Given that I would be sitting next to Mlle Inkspot, who, like all daughters everywhere throughout time, is six*, the threat of embarrassment is overwhelming. At any moment there will be an explicit reference to sex and I have to have my fingers in my ears and be chanting lalalala in advance. So there is just no point.

Chips are OK. There's a Turkish chip van near our house every night bar Mondays. I don't understand the never on a Monday rule, but I can't ask because I don't speak Turkish and the chip van man doesn't understand English beyond "Good evening, two large chips please". He gets cross if you omit the good evening.

*And how do daughters stop being six? Easy: one day they are six and the next they are married with children. That's my plan, anyway.