An imaginary scenario

Sony Music offices, London, early November 2009.
Simon Cowell is feeling restless, chain-smoking in his air-conditioned office. He doesn’t grace the offices often, preferring to keep the Syco arm one step removed from its parent company, Sony. But today is different - Cowell might have to enlist their services, keeping any potential action distanced from both himself and his team, just in case the media gets wind of it.
He’d been awake all night, watching re-runs of video footage of the latest X Factor series, convinced that the finalists on the UK talent show would be Stacey, Olly and Joe. But Stacey (despite the equine look) was no Leona, not even an Alexandra. And as for the boys, well it was Will and Gareth all over again and everyone knows what happened to Gareth. At best, they were destined for musicals. He picks up the phone to call the agent for Chicago.
“Hi, it’s Simon.”
“Sorry?”
“As in Cowell.”
“Really?”
He puts the phone down without saying another word, swings ‘round in his chair, stubs out a fag and gazes out into the middle distance, pondering his dilemma.
The ‘grubby hacks’ were doing one of two things: either turning the tide on the popularity of X Factor, or simply reflecting the changing whims and fancies of the British public. Putting ‘Strictly’ aside, the ratings were sliding, admittedly it was no landslide, but some of the viewers, particularly those in the north, were starting to switch off. Meanwhile, he couldn’t go anywhere without hearing complaints that X Factor and indeed, himself, had ruined Christmas. “No More X Factor Xmas No.1,” he heard Jeremy Vine say on R2.
“How can I appear to give the power back?” The question had been rattling around his head for the past month, irritating him to the point of nervousness. Cowell prided himself on giving the UK public entertainment they could shape and control, although it being Britain, he knew the backlash would hit sooner or later. Either way, it was happening and it needed to be stopped.
We need to make the public feel as though they are in control. We need to make the X Factor finalist appear as though they are an underdog. The British public, second to panning those on the up, love to bring a loser back from the dead. We need another Xmas No.1, one that allows the finalist to lose. Another Xmas No.1...the idea started to take shape.
He calls a Sony intern into the office. A 22-year-old, by the name of John.
“I want you to go through the Sony repertoire and find me a song which will offend the X Factor audience. Something in the archives.”
John can’t quite believe he’s in Simon’s office, taking orders which seem utterly arbitrary.
He looks through the database and is hard pushed to find anything that offensive....JLS, Kings of Leon. But he stumbles across Rage Against The Machine and recalls his older brother playing “Killing In The Name.”
“Mr Cowell? I’ve found one song and I think it might offend people...it’s got the word ‘fuck’ in it.”
“Put it on the stereo. I can’t say I even remember this band.....”
Cowell is just over two minutes into the song and shouts: “Bingo! Now, switch off this fucking horrible nonsense.”
Cowell sparks up another cigarette. “John, now, this has to be kept strictly between you, me, Rage’s manager and the Sony bosses. I want you to start a campaign to get this single to No.1 at Xmas. I don’t care how you do it, but as long as this is kept deadly secret, you can do what you like. The campaign must say one thing: ‘stop X Factor from getting the Xmas No.1.’ If it fucks up, I will have you removed from this building immediately and you will never work in the music business again.”
John remembered all the fuss earlier in the year about Russell Brand and how many Facebook groups had started up to support him. He promptly set about creating a FB group to urge people to buy the download of ‘Killing In The Name,’ pretending to be a couple who were determined to derail Cowell and his plans. It was a start – maybe not amounting to much, but all the same, a beginning.
Cowell calls a bunch of his regular, trustworthy, songwriters. “Write an X Factor winning single about...losing the game, being the underdog, climbing a mountain but never reaching the summit...Yes, that’s right, a song for a loser.”
And so the wheels were in motion. Make the public think they have the power back and ensure the winner is an underdog.
“That will guarantee us at least another two years of airtime. They’ll come flocking back. Now, who is booking my Xmas flights to Barbados?”