Britain’s last series of X Factor was trounced by Strictly Come Dancing in the ratings war, and roundly condemned for its stale stench of tired cliches.

It was hard to argue. So, how is it that one of the show’s US counterparts, American Idol, is still in such rude health?

A certain Italian cruise ship captain could learn much from the way it has steadfastly refused to veer from its tried and tested course over the past decade.

While the UK was tweaking its offerings with Pop Idol and Popstars The Rivals, before finally spewing out X Factor, Idol’s brand never wavered, and the show is now the most successful in American TV history; despite the fact that Simon Cowell has long since quit the judging panel.

Series 11 began in Savannah, Georgia, where 10,000 wannabes had turned out hoping to follow in the footsteps of Idol success stories like rock chick Kelly Clarkson.

And the appeal of the show was encapsulated by cock-sure teenager Jessica Whitely.

They’re not short on self-belief, these Americans, and Jess assured the judges she’d been crooning in public since the age of six.

Totally unfazed, she launched into a rendition of Charice’s In This Song . . . part demonic karaoke, part screaming tantrum, and 100 per cent dreadful.

Jennifer Lopez covered her ears, and it was a resounding ‘no’ from the whole panel.

So Jessica skulked away, right? Wrong. American wannabes refuse to accept they are lousy, and Jessica is convinced she’ll be able to change the panel’s minds when she drives to the Texas auditions to give it another go.

It’s the shameless delusion of these US contestants which makes this show so appealing to more reserved, self-deprecating Brits, who watch in open-mouthed disbelief. Optimism is a good thing, but such blinkered inability to compute or accept rejection is frankly disturbing.

Next up was a Freddie Flintoff lookalike who quit his job to follow his Idol dream, despite his wife being six months pregnant, and barely having two pennies to rub together. It’s blindingly obvious he was born without the star potential gene, yet the judges sidestepped the truth and gave him a golden ticket to the next round anyway. Cruel.

Presiding over this pantomime is walking toothpaste commercial Ryan Seacrest, silkily sending himself up and gently goading the judges into embarrassing themselves. Not that they need too much assistance.

There’s Randy ‘The Dog’ Jackson, who, like Louis Walsh, has become a caricature of himself with nothing original left to say.

Then there’s tearful J-Lo, who can’t bring herself to be nasty to the no-hopers, and Aerosmith frontman Stephen Tyler – you’re never quite sure whether he’s leering at the young girls, or if that’s just a bizarre look of concentration on his battle-hardened face.

So there it is. Season 11 of Idol is under way with its mixture of raw talent, petulant crybabies, and sob stories about how it will change people’s lives. Tuning in certainly won’t change ours.

But American Idol remains a watchable piece of fluffy, car crash TV, reminding us how astonishingly precocious and schmaltzy American fame-seekers truly are.