I was asked the other day whether I’m watching the X-Factor this year. This is not an unreasonable question given that in previous years I have avidly followed the handpicked hopefuls, hitherto unheard of, in their attempts to achieve celebrity status and that lucrative recording contract. This year, my equally unreasonable and negative answer was met with surprise.

But why did I turn my back on the show, resplendent in its glitz, glamour and glitter? It’s undeniably entertaining; a masterpiece in weekend television, cunningly crafted to take us along with the contestants on their emotional rollercoaster. We laugh, cry, cringe and even dream with them.

My first and most obvious reason is time-related. In our brave new “I need that email in my inbox in 10 minutes” world, who can justify devoting around three weekend hours to keep up with developments in this newest of British institutions?

I’d also like to be able to say I’m boycotting the show for reasons of principle, although I suspect I’m guilty of retrofitting my ideals to an already done deal. Either way, my ideological argument still holds: We live in a land that has constantly defined and re-defined popular music.  Our islands have inspired the likes of The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, Led Zeppelin, Black Sabbath, David Bowie, Pink Floyd, Eric Clapton, The Sex Pistols, Queen, Iron Maiden, Radiohead, The Stone Roses, Oasis, Pulp and Blur (to name but a few) to shape the music listened to by many across our planet. We owe our rich musical heritage to groups of musicians travelling to smoky pubs in beat up old vans, etching out names and reputations for themselves, building up loyal fan bases, scraping together the cash to get demos recorded and hoping that one day chance and tenacity combine to get them a recording contract. Thanks to their months, even years spent sleeping on grubby mattresses in equally grubby bedsits, surviving on a pittance and doing casual work to keep their landlords happy while they plug away with their art, we now have albums such as “OK Computer”, “Definitely Maybe”, “Never Mind the Bollocks” and “Dark Side of the Moon” to enjoy forever.

So, it seems questionable that we now choose our future pop-musicians via a mass-media, advert infused talent show, in which hairdressers, mechanics and postmen all compete for a chance at getting the Christmas number one single as they skyrocket onto the front-pages of our tabloid newspapers.

However, I believe there is another, yet more compelling reason not to devote a good percentage of my autumnal weekends to Simon Cowell’s growing empire: the X-Factor is detrimental to our emotional well-being and the way we view our place in society. It highlights our social inadequacies, suggests that we’re entitled to lifestyles beyond our means, and implies that it is consumption and not effort that will ultimately elevate us out of the working classes.

As I elaborate on my conspiratorial musings, don’t for a minute think that I’m suggesting that the X-Factor is to blame for the global financial crisis; that would be almost as ridiculous as the fact that such suffering can arise from a manmade concept in the first place. I am however suggesting that the X-Factor contributes towards the mind-set that has caused the crisis. We are constantly being bombarded by advertising designed to fuel the voices in our heads, which tell us we’re too ugly, too fat, too unfashionable, too poor, and that our cars are inferior, our houses too small and our phones obsolete. We are led to believe that the path to social acceptance is consumption. After all, capitalism is based on the fundamental assumption that people labour, earn and consume. Our celebrity “role models” appear to have almost limitless means to consume; society believes it deserves the same. Consumption is a necessary condition for happiness. In order to obtain that bigger apartment, flat-panel OED HD 3D TV or designer handbag people borrow, and the banks have been only too keen to oblige. Everyone gets to have their taste of celebrity life, but with the sour, lingering aftertaste of debt.

The X-Factor, as an instant shortcut to celebrity status, constantly reminds us that we’re not living the dream, leaving disappointment and an empty feeling of worthlessness in its wake.

So what can be done?

Instead of watching the X-Factor, I’m going to use my time for good, spend quality time with loved ones and take a moment to be grateful for the amazing things I do have in my life.