Kirsty Bosley: Talent shows only excel in ridiculing the vulnerable

The lights, songs and glamour captivated me (on the telly, not the glamour of my teenage bedroom) and I dreamt of a time when I'd be old enough to enter the contest.

As I got older, the sweetness and light that I'd previously thought TV talent shows represented started to turn sour with each, tired series.

Now I find them abhorrent. The idea of spending an hour in front of Britain's Got Talent or X Factor horrifies me, and it's not because of the acts.

It's absolutely everything else. I hate the snippets of the same old songs that reach a crescendo just as Danny from Dundee gets told he's going through to judge's houses. That or whichever other circle of hell he's now going to have to travel to in pursuit of his five minutes of fame.

The last circle of hell, I understand, is occupied by Satan himself. And an under-dressed Sinitta, but I digress.

I hate the soft piano music playing when Sarah from Sunderland tells you the heart-wrenching story of how her nan died and how all she ever wanted in her 84 years of life was for her granddaughter to get through to the live finals on some telly show she probably didn't even watch.

I can't stand watching talented men and women, some of whom you have a vague feeling you've seen somewhere before, reduced to tears at every juncture. "I'm sorry but you're not...GOING HOME YOU'RE THROUGH TO THE FINALS!"

Three or four judges, who've been given some strange and unusual all-knowing power by some ethereal being sit by, ready to make or break.

Worse than any of this is the blatant exploitation of people that I suspect and fear may feature somewhere on the vast and complex spectrum of mental ill health.

I don't claim to be an expert by any stretch. But quite often in the early stages, people who are not very good – despite sometimes having the delusion that they are – seem to make it through from the initial selection stages to get on TV.

The producers know this will make great telly and so put them on the box. They might as well place them in the stocks and give us all tomatoes to throw.

Placed like fools in front of fat, greedy kings, they tell the world how much they want to be famous.

The judges at their feasting table lick meat juice from their fingers hungrily as the poor person gets to work singing Mariah Carey at the top of their lungs. Their family, who should protect them rather than expose them to this mass ridicule, look on encouragingly.

Like a scene from a horror movie, everyone laughs.

Pearly white teeth glisten from the open mouths of the judges as they throw back their heads and cackle. The audience is laughing too, and the show's editors cut and paste bits of 'audience laughing' footage to make it look even worse.

For the person on the stage, it must be a devastating moment. Sometimes they seem unable to absorb what's really happening.

I can't imagine the masterminds behind talent shows care much for protecting the vulnerable.

I hate that most of all.