As Kevin Simm marched to his inevitable victory on The Voice the judges were participating in their very own gobbledegook competition.

Staking an early claim to be crowned the clown prince of gibberish, Will.i.am’s rambling response to runner-up Jolan’s opening number was a textbook lesson in how not to speak English.

Take it away Will: “I just froze right now because that’s like the last time we’re live on the BBC. Which is kinda sad. That performance there was a last performance live on the BBC performance. Because this is the last time on the BBC. This is as big as it gets for The Voice’s last time on the BBC.”

You get the feeling that the Black Eyed Pea isn’t keen on the move to ITV. Where they’re planning to initiate a bold new policy by turning this much-ridiculed show into a search for a star that actually finds a star.

On the off-chance the triumphant Mr Simm makes the grade (with that dreadful single he’s gonna struggle), the Beeb can hardly claim to have discovered him. He was in Liberty X. So five series drew an embarrassing blank.

But back to the prattling panellists, and pointless coach without a finalist Paloma Faith wasn’t about to let Will run away with the spewing-nonsense trophy.

After the excellent Cody’s haunting rendition of Mad World, mad Ms Faith delivered her astute critique: “I just think that in life we live in this concrete jungle, especially here in London, and we’re all going like rushing through our lives all the time and sometimes you walk on the pavement and there are people stepping over things growing from the cracks.

“And there are things people think are weeds and I will stop and look and just be like wow, nature took over and blah blah blah…” What the hell was she on about? Answers on a postcard please.

Anyway, throughout the sprawling two-hour unspectacular we had to meet all the wannabes’ beloved family and friends. Essex girl Lydia Lucy’s granny Dotty got more airtime that she did. Kevin cuddled his two cute children and sang at his sister’s wedding. Cody bonded with her folks oop North. And Jolan took the opportunity to remind us his mum was still dead. Never mind your voice, tell us your sob story.

As always, there was considerably less interest in the finale than there was in the far more popular spinning chairs bit. Since this marathon contest started way back in January, viewing figures have almost halved. Epic fail.

The star duets were as bad as ever. Ricky Wilson continued his penchant for filling the stage with 1970s-style Top of the Pops dancers. Boy George barely let Cody get a look in as he drowned her out while they slaughtered John Lennon’s Imagine. And Will and Lydia’s bizarre double act bordered on disturbing.

After the girls were voted into oblivion, Ricky couldn’t lose. The bookies’ runaway favourite, Kevin was always going to win. He can definitely sing. But does the comeback kid have the charisma to revive a career that was stone dead in the water? You decide.

As it all fizzled out, desperate hosts Emma Willis and Marvin Humes asked the dreaded question. Emma: “Surely, this isn’t the last we’ll see of Lydia?” I think you’ll find it probably is. Marvin: “This isn’t the end of the road for Cody is it?” Gee, I wonder.

And with that, The Voice faded away. Never to be seen on the BBC again. When it switches channels next year good luck to the guys at ITV. God knows they’re gonna need it.