Zak's was crimped, and mine was gelled so much it looked greasy. They put clear round glasses on Roman, making him look like Harry Potter's older brother and then finally they dressed us in clothes that took me right back to my old days at school, pre-turning.
"We don't say a word about this. It's never, ever mentioned." Zak glared at us all. "Not one word."
"Okay, all done." The head of the department radioed through for us to be collected and then we waited until it was time to film.
This time Harley walked over to us and said hi. She had perfect white teeth and gorgeous blue eyes and was the epitome of friendliness, unlike her co-host Dan who stood having his make-up retouched and shouted for her to hurry up.
"Sorry, guys. I must go do my bit. Good luck. I know it's all a bit smoke and mirrors, but it makes for great viewing and ultimately that's what you want. Thousands of people supporting you to win."
She went on her way, her arse bouncing around in her capri pants.
"Do you think they'll believe me if I say it's my microphone in my pocket, only I'm rock hard." Zak groaned. "And I've got to look at Carmela yet."
"Look at yourself in the mirror instead." Rex shoved him in the arm. "Not gonna score many chicks looking like that."
Zak smirked. "Now you know I can appear in their dreams any way they like. But, good idea, I'll look at you and those curtains you're displaying. Thanks, mate. I'm already limp as days old lettuce."
This time as we approached the stage we were stopped and filmed as Dan talked to us with Harley alongside him.
"Hi, guys, so you're The Para-not-normals. How did you four get together?"
I talked a little about us having met at college and how we'd formed the band, practising in our spare time.
"Well the judges are waiting for you. Good luck." Harley smiled and then we made our way onto the stage.
From there on we did as directed. Firstly, we sang Paradise City and had to look worried when Bill held his hand up and stopped the music. Then Bill asked if we had a different song to sing and we performed our Taylor Swift. It was soul destroying (well to those of us who still had theirs) as the audience cheered like crazy because they were told to do so.
Then it came to the judges vote on whether or not we went through to the next round, where the judges whittled down the acts and got their 'teams'.
Maxwell spoke first. "I think you have potential. It's a yes from me."
Then Marianne. "You remind me of The Rolling Stones in their early days when we used to hang around together. Great times. It's a yes from me."
Then Carmela. "I like you. You have a great energy. Yes, from me."
And finally, it was Bill's turn. "I like you guys. There's something about you, but I'm not sure??
The pre-empted audience began to protest and chanted, "Yes, yes, yes."
Bill looked back at the audience and then at us. His tongue poked in his cheek. "I think with a little image styling and some expert advice you could have something. One thing though. Your name. I'm not into it. I'd prefer just The Paranormals. We can work with that. Get you looking out of this world."
"Another dick confusing paranormals with aliens." Rex said from behind his hand, then he pretended to cough.
"What do you say? Ready for an image and name change?"
We said yes.
"Then that's four yeses. You're through to the next round. Congratulations, guys." Bill said.
The crowd roared their approval as directed and then we left the stage. Harley and Dan met us again backstage and once more they filmed our 'reaction' to being put through.
We were directed away from the presenters by another Clipboard guy who told us we could leave and that someone would be in touch. I was about to ask if anyone fancied a beer when I realised Stacey was waiting to go on stage with her band. I ran my eyes over them all. Seven altogether and all so very different. They didn't look like a band, but then again, neither did we after make-up and wardrobe had finished with us. Stacey was wearing her hair down and had barely any make-up on. She looked so like the Stacey of my past that for a moment it hurt.
Whose fault's that? I berated myself.
As if she could feel my