Indeed, he's barely recognisable from the quivering wreck who couldn't string, never mind sing, a sentence this time last year.

For those of you claiming not to have the foggiest, we're talking about Whitburn's finest, Leon Jackson. You know, the wee peely-wally fella from West Lothian who somehow walked away with last year's

X Factor win, and from whom barely a squeak has been heard since.

Up against the most appealingly camp male singer since Freddie Mercury took the mic (Rhydian, remember?), Jackson's apologetic swing-style performances took the prize, and on the night it looked as though it might finish him off completely for a while. Unfair? He hardly came across as a gobby Robbie-in-the-making, folks. His capacity to be humble and malleable was clearly a pop marketer's dream.

As this year's hopefuls have lined up, it was impossible not to spot how the tables in this talent contest have turned. Of course, it has always been manufactured entertainment, but from the wannabes themselves taking centre stage, we are now given far more camera time with the autocued judges than any of the singers. There's Dannii, the real version of whom is laughing her head off in Madame Tussauds, 'cos that ain't no human being sitting there; Louis, who is so rich he simply can't stop laughing; Simon, who's been in the States so long he hams it up with all the skill of Joey from Friends; and Cheryl Cole, who has somehow managed to become Britain's fantasy sister/girlfriend and bezzie mate with merely the shedding of a few tears.

Anyone been admiring the rocketing success of Steve Whatyoumacallhim or Shayne Ward recently? Leona Lewis has excelled herself in Britain and abroad, but she was a world class singer from the moment she stepped on the stage. X Factor doesn't exactly have a great track record, other than making a mint for its producers come the Christmas single market.

One has to wonder what is genuinely in it for the contestants themeslves these days, when the selection process has fallen into a bizarre, sob-story-driven charade.

Leon's single was released at the stroke of midnight last night, so let's not write him off just yet. I've surprised myself by how much sympathy I have for the folk who throw themselves at this inflated shot at fame and fortune, but I can't be the only one beginning to see the sheen coming off the machine. v