First things first, the more eagled-eyed of you will note that the couples didn’t do two dances, as last week’s blog promised, they just did one, or in the case of Ann, none. (Boom boom.) (Literally.)
But, sadly one (good) dance wasn’t enough to save Patsy - and it was good bye to her, Robin and sweepstaker Beth (I only got Beth’s pound on Monday – timing!) Poor Patsy - her Blackpool samba was a bit dodgy, but she did a more than passable Argentine tango this week (seriously fabulous dress) and it was considerably better than Gavin’s jive (I didn’t know that squatting was a jive move) and Ann’s rumba, and – at times – Scott’s American Smooth (i.e., the bits where he forgot the dance and headbutted Natalie – not that I’m complaining about that). I totally warmed to Patsy in the end – she was gracious, warm, kooky and seemed rather genuine. I particularly loved her adorable fag/hag partnership with Robin and I will miss Robin’s potato-esque head and his display of Soho’s finest streetwear a lot. He can come back next year. As can Artem, who, after ow-ow-ow-shouldergate, showed even more bravery this week by unironically performing the horizontal-v-sign-across-the-eyes move while jiving in a purple chiffon puff-sleeved shirt, AND STILL LOOKED MANLY. (Well, maybe 85% manly.)
Jared for next year? Well, he’s very sweet, but, ultimately, for me, no thanks - children doing ballroom dancing freaks me out. (Other things on the ‘makes Catherine shit-scared’ list include: rats the size of dogs, the thought of being buried alive and large coloured decorative wooden or plastic buttons. *shudders*) Next year, pleeeeeease let’s see the return of the majestic Ian Waite, preferably dancing with Strictly superfan and fucking hilarious star of Miranda, Miranda ‘Miranda’ Hart - they are both hugely tall, which will give Len something to mention every week. I’m not saying Miranda would necessarily be that good at the dancing, but who knows? All I do know is that I would pay my licence fee twice over to see some backstage/VT footage of Vinthent and Miranda standing next to each other, face to boobs, having a chat. Visual hilarity nothwithstanding, let’s just imagine the awesomeness of that conversation for a second – OMG x a gazillion.
(For those of you who don't watch Miranda, this post will make little sense. Apols - watch the show and you'll see. For those of you who do know and who inexplicably hate Miranda - and you know who you are - well, you are just wrong. That show makes me constantly 'lol'.)
As for the rest, well, it wasn’t a week of glittering dance awesomeness and tens all round – it was more of a Blackpool hangover, with some fairly botchy performances and more ridiculous grumpy scoring. The Four Tops, as I now propose to refer to mooted finalists Scott, Kara, Matt and Pamelar, were a mixed bag this week. Portmanteausville ahoy, I thought PamJam and Mattiona were fantastic and Scottalie and Kartem were fantastic apart from when they went wrong which was a fair chunk of the routine and therefore made them less than fantastic. The judges, however, mostly disagreed with me – underscoring Matt for being too pouty and modern (or something) and overscoring Scott and Kara on the basis that they have been good in the past - you can’t get nines when you go that blatantly wrong, surely? However, we all agreed that Pamela was good. She’ll be 62 soon! I know that’s the new Pamela mantra (now that we’ve established that she’s married to Billy Connolly), but it’s still fairly impressive.
Now then. On another note. Hmm. Um. Not quite sure how to say this really. Are you all sitting down? OK, good. So… so… so… *deep breath*
IactuallyfoundAnnquitefunnythisweekohmyGodI’mtrulysorryIknowIshouldknowbetterbutshedidactuallymakemelaughoutloudonseveraloccasionsIthinkit’sbecauserumbasareusuallysomindlesslyboringsoitwasreallyrefreshingtoseeacomedyrumbawhichwasdifferentandniceandunusualbutdon’tworryIstillwantAnnandAntontoleaveAnnAnnAnnoutoutthiswasjustaoneoffonetimeonlythingIpromiseitwillneverhappenagainandIwasthinkingofyouguysthewholetime.
Ok, enough. How about we pretend I never said it? Ok. Next!
Oh yes, costumes – no gold sequin trews, sure, but HELLO KARA’S JIVE DRESS. Mmmmmm-hmmmm. Gorge. Katya’s dress was, er, of note. For those that missed it, it was half dress/half leotard, made of yellow/green/turquoise tie-dyed streamers. Am not quite sure what it reminded me of, but it might have been glittering cat sick? But not in a bad way. Ahem. Perhaps it was Fraggle Rock again. Anyway, it was appropriately fugly – hopefully Robin will find a version in shirt-form for his next pro dance.
They seem to have abandoned the poo suit (I guess after Vinthent had worn it, no-one else felt up to it). Instead, puffy-sleeved chiffon shirts à la Riverdance seemed to be in vogue this week: the jive pro-dancers had them in purple, Matt in red and Claudia in navy blue.
Now I rarely mention Claudia, but let it be recorded here for posterity: Claudia Winkleman is the best thing about Strictly Come Dancing. I just heart you Claudia, may you never never never leave Strictly. For me, she is the glue that holds it all together – the bridge between serious Strictly and hilarious Strictly, and if that bridge were to fall... No, I am not going to torture that atrocious metaphor any longer, but suffice to say that it would be far worse if Claudia left, than Arlene, Brian, Ian and Lilia leaving combined. She is irreplaceable. (It would be tragic - even worse than when Dermot left BBLB and George Lamb came on and shouted a lot and the eight viewers Big Brother still had left all gagged a bit and switched off.)
Dancing and costumes aside, Gavin Henson continues to display his (accidental?) mastery of deadpan brilliance. How I laughed when he openly said he hated dressing up like a cowboy, but then did it anyway – what do the BBC have on him to be able to get him to do these things? Also, I’m not sure I heard right, but I *think* Gavin said that Katya had been ill in the week, so he’d had to practice with Klaus (yes, that’s Klaus), Katya’s partner. If so – WHERE IS THAT FOOTAGE? I DEMAND TO SEE THAT FOOTAGE!
As for Sunday, well, Tess Dress Mess turned to Tess Dress Yes (see what I did there)! I thought she looked pretty good in a (maybe slightly too) skin-tight, dove-grey bandage dress. In fact, her Saturday dress (a skirted version of the hideous j**psuit) was ok too.
And we can tick Ola Jordan Catsuit off our Strictly bingo cards (again). Yay! It was possibly her finest catsuit to date; glittering spiderweb black lace, backless, obviously. She and James did a rumba, which we’ve established is generally dull, but the bit where James balanced her on his neck – hands free – and span her around was fairly impressive.
However, I’m starting to get really really annoyed with the Sunday night popstar performances - AGAIN no pro-dancers and instead the Strictly producers seemed happy to fob us off with James 'rhymes with' Blunt, his anonymous band and no dancing – just some bare light bulbs. WHY? WHY? WHY? I mean I know the dance troop has been an unbridled catastrophe, but come on! Replaced by light bulbs?!?
My God, I’m still talking. Has anyone actually read this far? Let’s leave it there, shall we? Am hoping that next week will be two dance week, but as you can tell, I know nothing. As for who’ll stay, well, anything could happen from now and I wouldn’t bet against Ann yet. But there is a beacon of hope from the other side - Wagner’s finally out of X-Factor, so maybe the underdog’s time is up and we’ll be riddy of Widdy! Oooh rhyming. OK seriously, ENOUGH. Thankyoubye.
30 November 2010
22 November 2010
Week 8
Wowsers – for me, Blackpool week was a return to form. Excellent dancing and excellent costumes – the Strictly wardrobe department outdid themselves in the sequin/comedy stakes. To quote Craig, I LOVED it.
But more on the outfits later. First I want to pay tribute to the special person we said goodbye to this week. The diminutive, inimitable and utterly wonderful Mr Vinthent Thimone. My very favourite Italian Pony.
*pause for respectful and poignant contemplation*
Since Ian was ousted and Brian left, no other male dancer has come close to Vinthent. I just love him! He’s so ridiculous and tiny and has fuzzy felt eyebrows which move independently from the rest of him. It’s a well-known fact that no-one in the history of Strictly Come Dancing has provided more joyful hilarity and proper ‘lol’s than our Vinthent (not even Henson). He’s just the master. I mean, who can forget his description of Rachel Steven’s pre-performance nerves: “she was shaking like a leaflet” (followed by dawning realisation “...oh no, ees ‘a leaf’?” and coy mortification “...Oh no, mwahaha.”)? Or the time he was so overcome with embarrassment (at what, I forget – possibly comparing Rachel to a leaflet, a fair comparison in terms of charisma proffered, we’ll all agree) that he threw his hands to his face and rocked back on his chair so far that he fell over backwards – little Italian limbs a-flailing. And let’s not forget his ingenuity - when Felicity had trouble with left and right (and that can happen to the very most cleverest brainy people, OK?!), he stuck a banana in one of her socks and an apple in the other. (“Step with the banana foot, Felicity” – it worked a treat.)
I just LOVE him. So I, and Abi too, am sure, are sad to see him go. (And bbbbendy Felicity too, of course.) Here’s hoping we’ll see a bit more professional action from him and Flavs before the show’s out.
Just a quick mention of the dancing – you know, as that’s what it’s all about, blah blah blah. Some truly high-quality performances I thought. Sweepstake bias notwithstanding, my favourites were Kara and Artem - just AWESOME, especially as Kara somehow dislocated Artem’s shoulder - allegedly during rehearsals. HA! (So kind of Tess to out them this week – so now we know, not gay, just European. Though I’m still suspicious.). Given the sex, I mean, dance injury, the performance was all the more impressive, as their routine essentially involved Artem hoisting Kara onto said dislocated shoulder throughout – so many levels of ow. Scott and Natalie were as clinical competent as ever, like dance assassins, and elegant PamJam finally got 10 (how I laughed when James said that he wanted to get a 10 “for Pamelar”. Again - HA!). And I rather enjoyed Matt Baker, as he shook his bon bon and did no less than THREE backflips in a row.
On the judge front, Len is such a grumpy old sod this year – he’s getting right on my wick. His scoring was (as it has been throughout this series) total nutsville. It was no surprise that he didn’t like Matt’s ‘flipflop’ (oh boom flipping boom Len) or that he was willing to give Ann five more points than she deserved (i.e. five – if only the zero paddle existed. *sigh*) but (BUT!!!) he only gave Kara a six (on a technicality, but not a rule break), and then gave Gavin Henson a se-VEN! W, T and F?!! In case you missed it, Henson was dancing a samba to Tom Jones and the routine started with him miming in front of a mic and attempting to pelvic thrust – it was repulsive. At the time, I simply tweeted “NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”, then decided that in a game of shag, marry, kill, with Henson, Bruce and Anton, I would unhesitatingly kill Gavin. Seriously. I stand by that decision in the cold hard light of day – and you all know how I feel about Anton (*voms*).
Oh Anton. You did redeem yourself a little this week – and surprisingly so. Now, I’m not sure how many of you (if any of you) read my @strictlycad tweets, but earlier this week – and please don’t judge me (well no more than usual) - I decided to compile a list of my all time favourite Strictly trousers. The results are here and here. Oh, how I was tempting fate with that countdown! Little did I know that Anton du Beke was limbering up to squeeze into the finest trousers Strictly has seen to date. Gold sequined slacks, worn with a yellow silk shirt and a gold sequined scarf.
To quote the fug girls: just... wow.
It goes without saying that Anton looked an absolute tool, but those trousers were all I could see on Saturday night in the Tesspit – glimmering away in the background. I was in no doubt, dear readers, in no doubt at all: Anton’s trousers made an entry straight to the top of my chart.
AND THAT IS NOT IN ANY WAY A SMUTTY EUPHEMISM OH MY GOD PERISH THE VERY THOUGHT.
Other special mentions go to Sssssssscott, looking unusually unsightly in one of Robin’s cast offs – think sequined Bayeux tapestry, in shirt form, slashed to the navel (obv. Robin would have looked amazing in it), and to Natalie Lowe, who looked impressively Amazonian, but was basically wearing a vajazzle.
As for Tess Dress Mess, turns out it is still worth documenting, as la Daly’s outfit reached heights of heinousness I didn’t think possible - stepping out on to the stage, as she did, in (I can barely type the words, such is my disgust) a red jumpsuit. It was... well there are no words. Suffice to say, she looked very awful indeed.
Also very awful indeed (well other than Ann, of course, but that’s a given and am not going there this week, apart from to say she looked and moved like a grapefruit on pipecleaners) was the professional dance which opened Sunday’s show, in which the Strictly ladies stripped to bejewelled bikinis and gyrated around for a few minutes. Yes, they have the figures for it and am sure it was a delightful sight for some, but it just didn’t work for me – there weren’t any ballroom or latin tricks and it felt like a real shame that, left to their own devices (or as directed to by the production team), the girls didn’t actually do any real dancing, just a bit of hip, crotch and bum shaking. Maybe it was supposed to be all slinky and Vegas-y, but... well, no amount of glitter and neon lighting is going to overcome the perennial problem that they were in BLACKPOOL! Yes that ballroom floor is incredible, but ultimately it’s located in a small grey British seaside town – it can try all it likes, but it’s not even La Vegas’ poorer cousin – it’s Sin City’s weird English stalker, who can’t be arsed with feathers in the arse crack on a full time basis and most of the time prefers to hang out in a nice woollen dressing gown, with a lovely cuppa and Take A Break magazine (and I ain’t criticising!). Let’s face it - the main activities in Vegas are excessive gambling, getting married to a prostitute by Elvis and seeing Bette Midler in concert. In Blackpool, it’s drinking Bacardi breezers, dry-humping a man in a Ben Sherman shirt, shovelling a load of chips (or pies) into one’s gob and enjoying an extended vomiting session. Very glamorous indeed.
(Ah well. Now might be a good time to listen to this. You know there’s poetry in them seaside towns.)
Still, gyrations aside, Blackpool did bring out the requisite amount of sparkle to Strictly this week – and for that, I thank it. And back to London now – where Apprentice viewers will know that people don’t wear shoes. The ultimate prize is getting nearer and it’s two dance time next week. And Widdecombe’s doing a rumba...
But more on the outfits later. First I want to pay tribute to the special person we said goodbye to this week. The diminutive, inimitable and utterly wonderful Mr Vinthent Thimone. My very favourite Italian Pony.
*pause for respectful and poignant contemplation*
Since Ian was ousted and Brian left, no other male dancer has come close to Vinthent. I just love him! He’s so ridiculous and tiny and has fuzzy felt eyebrows which move independently from the rest of him. It’s a well-known fact that no-one in the history of Strictly Come Dancing has provided more joyful hilarity and proper ‘lol’s than our Vinthent (not even Henson). He’s just the master. I mean, who can forget his description of Rachel Steven’s pre-performance nerves: “she was shaking like a leaflet” (followed by dawning realisation “...oh no, ees ‘a leaf’?” and coy mortification “...Oh no, mwahaha.”)? Or the time he was so overcome with embarrassment (at what, I forget – possibly comparing Rachel to a leaflet, a fair comparison in terms of charisma proffered, we’ll all agree) that he threw his hands to his face and rocked back on his chair so far that he fell over backwards – little Italian limbs a-flailing. And let’s not forget his ingenuity - when Felicity had trouble with left and right (and that can happen to the very most cleverest brainy people, OK?!), he stuck a banana in one of her socks and an apple in the other. (“Step with the banana foot, Felicity” – it worked a treat.)
I just LOVE him. So I, and Abi too, am sure, are sad to see him go. (And bbbbendy Felicity too, of course.) Here’s hoping we’ll see a bit more professional action from him and Flavs before the show’s out.
Just a quick mention of the dancing – you know, as that’s what it’s all about, blah blah blah. Some truly high-quality performances I thought. Sweepstake bias notwithstanding, my favourites were Kara and Artem - just AWESOME, especially as Kara somehow dislocated Artem’s shoulder - allegedly during rehearsals. HA! (So kind of Tess to out them this week – so now we know, not gay, just European. Though I’m still suspicious.). Given the sex, I mean, dance injury, the performance was all the more impressive, as their routine essentially involved Artem hoisting Kara onto said dislocated shoulder throughout – so many levels of ow. Scott and Natalie were as clinical competent as ever, like dance assassins, and elegant PamJam finally got 10 (how I laughed when James said that he wanted to get a 10 “for Pamelar”. Again - HA!). And I rather enjoyed Matt Baker, as he shook his bon bon and did no less than THREE backflips in a row.
On the judge front, Len is such a grumpy old sod this year – he’s getting right on my wick. His scoring was (as it has been throughout this series) total nutsville. It was no surprise that he didn’t like Matt’s ‘flipflop’ (oh boom flipping boom Len) or that he was willing to give Ann five more points than she deserved (i.e. five – if only the zero paddle existed. *sigh*) but (BUT!!!) he only gave Kara a six (on a technicality, but not a rule break), and then gave Gavin Henson a se-VEN! W, T and F?!! In case you missed it, Henson was dancing a samba to Tom Jones and the routine started with him miming in front of a mic and attempting to pelvic thrust – it was repulsive. At the time, I simply tweeted “NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”, then decided that in a game of shag, marry, kill, with Henson, Bruce and Anton, I would unhesitatingly kill Gavin. Seriously. I stand by that decision in the cold hard light of day – and you all know how I feel about Anton (*voms*).
Oh Anton. You did redeem yourself a little this week – and surprisingly so. Now, I’m not sure how many of you (if any of you) read my @strictlycad tweets, but earlier this week – and please don’t judge me (well no more than usual) - I decided to compile a list of my all time favourite Strictly trousers. The results are here and here. Oh, how I was tempting fate with that countdown! Little did I know that Anton du Beke was limbering up to squeeze into the finest trousers Strictly has seen to date. Gold sequined slacks, worn with a yellow silk shirt and a gold sequined scarf.
To quote the fug girls: just... wow.
It goes without saying that Anton looked an absolute tool, but those trousers were all I could see on Saturday night in the Tesspit – glimmering away in the background. I was in no doubt, dear readers, in no doubt at all: Anton’s trousers made an entry straight to the top of my chart.
AND THAT IS NOT IN ANY WAY A SMUTTY EUPHEMISM OH MY GOD PERISH THE VERY THOUGHT.
Other special mentions go to Sssssssscott, looking unusually unsightly in one of Robin’s cast offs – think sequined Bayeux tapestry, in shirt form, slashed to the navel (obv. Robin would have looked amazing in it), and to Natalie Lowe, who looked impressively Amazonian, but was basically wearing a vajazzle.
As for Tess Dress Mess, turns out it is still worth documenting, as la Daly’s outfit reached heights of heinousness I didn’t think possible - stepping out on to the stage, as she did, in (I can barely type the words, such is my disgust) a red jumpsuit. It was... well there are no words. Suffice to say, she looked very awful indeed.
Also very awful indeed (well other than Ann, of course, but that’s a given and am not going there this week, apart from to say she looked and moved like a grapefruit on pipecleaners) was the professional dance which opened Sunday’s show, in which the Strictly ladies stripped to bejewelled bikinis and gyrated around for a few minutes. Yes, they have the figures for it and am sure it was a delightful sight for some, but it just didn’t work for me – there weren’t any ballroom or latin tricks and it felt like a real shame that, left to their own devices (or as directed to by the production team), the girls didn’t actually do any real dancing, just a bit of hip, crotch and bum shaking. Maybe it was supposed to be all slinky and Vegas-y, but... well, no amount of glitter and neon lighting is going to overcome the perennial problem that they were in BLACKPOOL! Yes that ballroom floor is incredible, but ultimately it’s located in a small grey British seaside town – it can try all it likes, but it’s not even La Vegas’ poorer cousin – it’s Sin City’s weird English stalker, who can’t be arsed with feathers in the arse crack on a full time basis and most of the time prefers to hang out in a nice woollen dressing gown, with a lovely cuppa and Take A Break magazine (and I ain’t criticising!). Let’s face it - the main activities in Vegas are excessive gambling, getting married to a prostitute by Elvis and seeing Bette Midler in concert. In Blackpool, it’s drinking Bacardi breezers, dry-humping a man in a Ben Sherman shirt, shovelling a load of chips (or pies) into one’s gob and enjoying an extended vomiting session. Very glamorous indeed.
(Ah well. Now might be a good time to listen to this. You know there’s poetry in them seaside towns.)
Still, gyrations aside, Blackpool did bring out the requisite amount of sparkle to Strictly this week – and for that, I thank it. And back to London now – where Apprentice viewers will know that people don’t wear shoes. The ultimate prize is getting nearer and it’s two dance time next week. And Widdecombe’s doing a rumba...
15 November 2010
Week 7
Well, what an atmosphere on Saturday night - full of anticipation and excitement! And though I wasn’t sure what to expect, I wasn’t disappointed! What a range of performances - from incredible technique, real grace and fluidity of movement, to messy, disappointing moves and total and utter shambles. Special mention to the band – they were great! (Well, one or two dodgy notes, but the bagpipes are a notoriously difficult instrument.) And it goes without saying that seeing such a famous dance performed live is very special indeed. (Mind you, the Haka does have more impact on TV, when you're up close and can properly see a squad of hulks going tribal nutjob).
“Huh?” I hear you cry. I am of course, rather amusingly, not talking about Strictly at all - I am referring to the rugby! Yep, I was in Murrayfield on Saturday night, watching New Zealand destroy Scotland, and duly missing my first Strictly of the season. But how telling that I wasn’t particularly bothered - I was perfectly happy to iPlayer it. (As Louise has pointed out, that way you can fast-forward through the Bruce bits. Hooray!)
Boo, however, to Ann Widdecombe’s continued involvement. I don’t really want to dwell on Ann, but I can’t avoid it. She’s just so awful and it has to be recorded for posterity. Seriously though, we are now seven weeks in and there isn’t the merest hint of a dancer there. Has Anton actually taught her anything? I see no evidence of it. She can’t even walk elegantly! There’s no delicate way to put this, but basically Ann stomps around like she’s wearing a full nappy, with her twig-like legs constantly akimbo (in a chaste way, OBVIOUSLY). Even in the Tesspit, there’s no evidence of grace - as Tess interviews the others or presents the VTs, Ann just sits there, feet apart, hands on knees, vacant expression, like a sequined beanbag that Anton’s just plunked down and forgotten about.
Then again, that is preferable to when it’s Ann's turn on the dancefloor or to face the judges - I know that silence is contrary to the very core of her braying nature, but her voice! ARGH! There is no need to trot out the same old gubbins whenever the microphone’s near you Ann – we GET it, you know you’re rubbish, you don’t care, and you lurrrrrrrrrrrve Anton.
Well, Anton is a tool!
So, in light of all that, I do have some sympathy for Michelle Williams, to whom we said goodbye this week. She was fairly rubbish too, so it’s not the end of the world that she’s gone, after three, err, ‘bottom twos’ (ahem). However, it was worth her staying this extra week, as we got to see Brendan’s paso outfit – see-through red lace shirt slashed to the navel? Brilliantly vile. (Though it goes without saying that it would have been even more brilliantly vile on Robin – man, that I regret!).
On the subject of vile/regret, the seventies brown nylon theme continues (Vinthent’s turn to don the poo suit this week), as does the hot pink Fraggle Rock fringing (they must have had to order extra material in to fit round Widdecombe’s top half). And, as ever, Tess dress mess: hedge hair/wonky shoulderpad city.
As for the dancin’, I thought Robin and Patsy’s waltz was lovely – usually the waltz (Viennese or other) bores me senseless, but this one was adorable. I'd say the (probable) top three are starting to break away now - they must surely be Kara (wonderful Argentine Tango. Biased/moi/etc.), Sssssssscott (clinically impressive) and Matt (is there anyone who doesn't love him?). As for the rest, I'm not sure what the Gavin Henson/Bruno snog was about, other than ‘vote for me’ desperation, but it was vaguely amusing to see the gradual shellshock on Henson’s potato face, as it dawned on him that, yes, he had tongued a gay Italian on prime time TV. I wonder what else Katya could make him do? (It seems unlikely that ‘dancing’ is an option there.)
AND OH MY GOD, how could I forget my favourite moment of the night, which I rewound to watch at least four times. Quite simply, pre-dance VT, Ann Widdecombe lent on the studio barre and flipping well broke it. HAHAHAHAHAHA! There is no truer comedy than a fat woman breaking furniture (see also: Alison in Big Brother 3 jumping on, and breaking, a picnic bench.)
Next week – BLACKPOOL! (And on that note I’m pleasantly surprised that we hardly had any Craig Kelly-esque pleas of ‘ooooh, please vote for meeeee, I just want to make it to Blackpooooool’.) I’m guessing one or two couples will go for some sort of ‘seaside town/saucy postcard’ theme (please GOD not you-know-who), possibly using one of those poke-your-head-through-the holes-of-the-picture wooden boards, and we’ll no doubt be treated to a ‘hilarious’ VT implying our celebs are great friends who all 'hilariously' got the coach up together (they’re just so NORMAL) – cue high jinks, like Vinthent being ‘hilariously’ late, James playing a ‘hilarious’ prank (most probably on the distinctly unhilarious Gavin Henson, which WILL be funny) and Anton ‘hilariously’ marvelling at the quaint concepts of 'public transport' and 'the North'.
Who wants to predict the number of Northern costal town clichés we’ll be treated to? I’ll start the bidding at 20.
“Huh?” I hear you cry. I am of course, rather amusingly, not talking about Strictly at all - I am referring to the rugby! Yep, I was in Murrayfield on Saturday night, watching New Zealand destroy Scotland, and duly missing my first Strictly of the season. But how telling that I wasn’t particularly bothered - I was perfectly happy to iPlayer it. (As Louise has pointed out, that way you can fast-forward through the Bruce bits. Hooray!)
Boo, however, to Ann Widdecombe’s continued involvement. I don’t really want to dwell on Ann, but I can’t avoid it. She’s just so awful and it has to be recorded for posterity. Seriously though, we are now seven weeks in and there isn’t the merest hint of a dancer there. Has Anton actually taught her anything? I see no evidence of it. She can’t even walk elegantly! There’s no delicate way to put this, but basically Ann stomps around like she’s wearing a full nappy, with her twig-like legs constantly akimbo (in a chaste way, OBVIOUSLY). Even in the Tesspit, there’s no evidence of grace - as Tess interviews the others or presents the VTs, Ann just sits there, feet apart, hands on knees, vacant expression, like a sequined beanbag that Anton’s just plunked down and forgotten about.
Then again, that is preferable to when it’s Ann's turn on the dancefloor or to face the judges - I know that silence is contrary to the very core of her braying nature, but her voice! ARGH! There is no need to trot out the same old gubbins whenever the microphone’s near you Ann – we GET it, you know you’re rubbish, you don’t care, and you lurrrrrrrrrrrve Anton.
Well, Anton is a tool!
So, in light of all that, I do have some sympathy for Michelle Williams, to whom we said goodbye this week. She was fairly rubbish too, so it’s not the end of the world that she’s gone, after three, err, ‘bottom twos’ (ahem). However, it was worth her staying this extra week, as we got to see Brendan’s paso outfit – see-through red lace shirt slashed to the navel? Brilliantly vile. (Though it goes without saying that it would have been even more brilliantly vile on Robin – man, that I regret!).
On the subject of vile/regret, the seventies brown nylon theme continues (Vinthent’s turn to don the poo suit this week), as does the hot pink Fraggle Rock fringing (they must have had to order extra material in to fit round Widdecombe’s top half). And, as ever, Tess dress mess: hedge hair/wonky shoulderpad city.
As for the dancin’, I thought Robin and Patsy’s waltz was lovely – usually the waltz (Viennese or other) bores me senseless, but this one was adorable. I'd say the (probable) top three are starting to break away now - they must surely be Kara (wonderful Argentine Tango. Biased/moi/etc.), Sssssssscott (clinically impressive) and Matt (is there anyone who doesn't love him?). As for the rest, I'm not sure what the Gavin Henson/Bruno snog was about, other than ‘vote for me’ desperation, but it was vaguely amusing to see the gradual shellshock on Henson’s potato face, as it dawned on him that, yes, he had tongued a gay Italian on prime time TV. I wonder what else Katya could make him do? (It seems unlikely that ‘dancing’ is an option there.)
AND OH MY GOD, how could I forget my favourite moment of the night, which I rewound to watch at least four times. Quite simply, pre-dance VT, Ann Widdecombe lent on the studio barre and flipping well broke it. HAHAHAHAHAHA! There is no truer comedy than a fat woman breaking furniture (see also: Alison in Big Brother 3 jumping on, and breaking, a picnic bench.)
Next week – BLACKPOOL! (And on that note I’m pleasantly surprised that we hardly had any Craig Kelly-esque pleas of ‘ooooh, please vote for meeeee, I just want to make it to Blackpooooool’.) I’m guessing one or two couples will go for some sort of ‘seaside town/saucy postcard’ theme (please GOD not you-know-who), possibly using one of those poke-your-head-through-the holes-of-the-picture wooden boards, and we’ll no doubt be treated to a ‘hilarious’ VT implying our celebs are great friends who all 'hilariously' got the coach up together (they’re just so NORMAL) – cue high jinks, like Vinthent being ‘hilariously’ late, James playing a ‘hilarious’ prank (most probably on the distinctly unhilarious Gavin Henson, which WILL be funny) and Anton ‘hilariously’ marvelling at the quaint concepts of 'public transport' and 'the North'.
Who wants to predict the number of Northern costal town clichés we’ll be treated to? I’ll start the bidding at 20.
8 November 2010
Week 6
Well, I feel terrible for dance lover Jimi Mistry – he looked so very sad to be leaving last night. Sure, he wasn’t as good as everyone thought he’d be, but he was definitely better than many of the others. Poor Team Flavistry (and our very own Laura, of course - she tells me her family will now have to go without Christmas gifts.) Though I was glad to see Flavia making no attempt to hide her disgust about the whole thing. Course, that might have been a reaction to her curtain tassel top and brass band trousers.
Sad then, but maybe not that much of a shock, in retrospect (also, Gavin called it just before the results show). There’s always a ‘shock’ exit around this time – when a good one goes and a rubbish one stays. It’s just that it’s usually James Jordan and his inflated ego who are kicked out, to the relief of many, including his celebrity partner. No, the real shock will be if one of the hot favourites goes – Kara, Matt or Scott, or PamJam at a push. But I think the unstoppable Widdenaut will steamroll past at least one of those couples before the voting public will be stunned into no longer voting for her. Then it will be time for real action – no more ‘oh Ann’s so entertaining and hilarious’. No, no, it will be full steam ahead on ‘GET RID OF THAT FAT TORY WITCH, THIS IS A DANCE COMPETITION FOR F***’S SAKE’. I can’t wait! Until then though, isn’t her crush on Anton sweet!?! (I jest – it makes me physically ill. Course, that’s probably more to do with Anton. Yuck/shudder/vom. Kill. Every time. Regardless of who I have to shag or marry.)
As for the rest, well, that’s kind of it. It was a bit of a non-show in ‘comedy blog’ terms. After the gimmicky, ker-AZY Halloween week, everyone was a bit muted and hungover. The dancing was fine, good even – the weaker dancers are improving, so it’s levelling out a bit (which would be good if it were a dance competition!!!! Oh yes, the sweet smell of biting sarcasm, right there.) The scoring was utterly ridiculous, but that’s nothing new. Scott Maslen’s perfunctory rumba (and you can cross “the rumba’s such a difficult dance for the man” off your Len Goodman bingo card) was the most bizarre example: Len gave him a 9 and Craig gave him a 4. ?!?!? (There may have been a logical explanation for all that, but Sssssssssscott’s judging coincided with a mega-brilliant firework display in our square, so I had to rush to the window to watch it and squeal like a child. It was completely awesome.)
We didn’t even have much costume joy, though I quite enjoyed Vinthent removing his age 12 bolero jacket (not in a sexy way – please) and throwing it over Felicity’s head, in a comedy paso strop. And of course Robin came up trumps again, wearing a slashed-to-the-navel version of the (hideous – obviously) seventies brown nylon lounge suit Brendan wore a few weeks back, with its incredible pot belly-producing properties. I mean, seriously, what’s that about? Those dancers aren’t fat! And yet, their tummies were evident – maybe it’s because they could only muster the courage to don their poo slacks after several beers in the belly? Anyway, everyone else looked fine. Except Tess, of course, who was rocking a look I like to call ‘wedding emu’.
So that’s that. I’ll leave it there, as if I start to rant about the so-called ‘dance’ troupe, I fear I may never stop. (Ian, you are BETTER than that!)
Sad then, but maybe not that much of a shock, in retrospect (also, Gavin called it just before the results show). There’s always a ‘shock’ exit around this time – when a good one goes and a rubbish one stays. It’s just that it’s usually James Jordan and his inflated ego who are kicked out, to the relief of many, including his celebrity partner. No, the real shock will be if one of the hot favourites goes – Kara, Matt or Scott, or PamJam at a push. But I think the unstoppable Widdenaut will steamroll past at least one of those couples before the voting public will be stunned into no longer voting for her. Then it will be time for real action – no more ‘oh Ann’s so entertaining and hilarious’. No, no, it will be full steam ahead on ‘GET RID OF THAT FAT TORY WITCH, THIS IS A DANCE COMPETITION FOR F***’S SAKE’. I can’t wait! Until then though, isn’t her crush on Anton sweet!?! (I jest – it makes me physically ill. Course, that’s probably more to do with Anton. Yuck/shudder/vom. Kill. Every time. Regardless of who I have to shag or marry.)
As for the rest, well, that’s kind of it. It was a bit of a non-show in ‘comedy blog’ terms. After the gimmicky, ker-AZY Halloween week, everyone was a bit muted and hungover. The dancing was fine, good even – the weaker dancers are improving, so it’s levelling out a bit (which would be good if it were a dance competition!!!! Oh yes, the sweet smell of biting sarcasm, right there.) The scoring was utterly ridiculous, but that’s nothing new. Scott Maslen’s perfunctory rumba (and you can cross “the rumba’s such a difficult dance for the man” off your Len Goodman bingo card) was the most bizarre example: Len gave him a 9 and Craig gave him a 4. ?!?!? (There may have been a logical explanation for all that, but Sssssssssscott’s judging coincided with a mega-brilliant firework display in our square, so I had to rush to the window to watch it and squeal like a child. It was completely awesome.)
We didn’t even have much costume joy, though I quite enjoyed Vinthent removing his age 12 bolero jacket (not in a sexy way – please) and throwing it over Felicity’s head, in a comedy paso strop. And of course Robin came up trumps again, wearing a slashed-to-the-navel version of the (hideous – obviously) seventies brown nylon lounge suit Brendan wore a few weeks back, with its incredible pot belly-producing properties. I mean, seriously, what’s that about? Those dancers aren’t fat! And yet, their tummies were evident – maybe it’s because they could only muster the courage to don their poo slacks after several beers in the belly? Anyway, everyone else looked fine. Except Tess, of course, who was rocking a look I like to call ‘wedding emu’.
So that’s that. I’ll leave it there, as if I start to rant about the so-called ‘dance’ troupe, I fear I may never stop. (Ian, you are BETTER than that!)
3 November 2010
Week 4
Well, I think few will dispute that it was Peter Shilton’s time to go. His dance was abysmal – even/especially the showcase trick where he flipped Erin upside down in a sort of 69 lift of ewww. I was just glad I hadn’t had my dinner yet. Sorry Anita! Oh, and can I have your £1 please?!
Am sad to see Erin go, though - Miss Whiplash is an old stalwart after all. (By the way, does anyone else share my incredulity that she’s 32? Erin 32!?!?! Her abs aside, I thought she was pushing 40, easy.) Anyway, I loved that Erin had clearly decided to take on Natalie ‘All Time’ Lowe in the ‘who can look the most pleased to be wearing the most incredibly disgusting costume’ stakes and was putting up quite a fight. This week Natalie wore a tango dress made of a million dead canaries, but that wasn’t even her best/worst. Who can forget Nat’s checked shirt knotted under boobs + electric blue shiny jeggings + random hideous sweatband + matching outfit for male partner Scott? It clearly edges out Erin’s bowler hat + waistcoat (no shirt) + Fraggle Rock furry mini mirkin + tights with suspenders drawn on. But it’s a close call.
Other highlight – the moment of the series so far in fact (and PLEASE iPlayer it, if you haven’t already) - was Gavin Henson’s hushed reverence as he proclaimed his love and esteem for his all time hero; a man he had finally met the week before, having admired him and his numerous achievements from afar for a very long time. That man? That hero?
Mr Peter Andre.
I had tears of comedy joy streaming down my face within seconds, then my sister rang me and we continued laughing for a least a good solid minute before we were able to say hello. Isabelle summed it up: “I was going to text you, but then I thought, no, this is a phone call moment”. How right she was. A-MA-ZING. I’m torn really – Henson is a munty, arrogant, stunned-trout-faced charisma vacuum and an atrocious dancer to boot, but I will never tire of laughing at his VTs.
Also worth a mention: Matt Baker’s tash, unicycle and ever sweaty forehead. And that was the week that snogged - my God they were all at it! Well, four of them. Bendy Kendall and everyone’s favourite Italian Pony Vinthent had a go, and then Kensit and Robin String-Vest followed suit. I have to say, Patsy and Robin is my favourite showmance of the series – it’s wonderful to see such a beautiful relationship developing between hag and fag. It's what every divorcee needs.
As for next week – surely Michelle’s in danger? Yes she tries, but my God, she’s not very good, is she? And with Brendan back, she can’t even rely on everyone’s love for Ian ‘tall’ Waite.
Finally, unlike the ridiculously quick-to-boo anything even mildly negative audience, I cheered CRH's view that Team Annton should have been in the Bottom Two (sorry Ben). I’m actually not even acknowledging Ann’s presence anymore. Total denial. It’s the only coping strategy that’s working...)
Am sad to see Erin go, though - Miss Whiplash is an old stalwart after all. (By the way, does anyone else share my incredulity that she’s 32? Erin 32!?!?! Her abs aside, I thought she was pushing 40, easy.) Anyway, I loved that Erin had clearly decided to take on Natalie ‘All Time’ Lowe in the ‘who can look the most pleased to be wearing the most incredibly disgusting costume’ stakes and was putting up quite a fight. This week Natalie wore a tango dress made of a million dead canaries, but that wasn’t even her best/worst. Who can forget Nat’s checked shirt knotted under boobs + electric blue shiny jeggings + random hideous sweatband + matching outfit for male partner Scott? It clearly edges out Erin’s bowler hat + waistcoat (no shirt) + Fraggle Rock furry mini mirkin + tights with suspenders drawn on. But it’s a close call.
Other highlight – the moment of the series so far in fact (and PLEASE iPlayer it, if you haven’t already) - was Gavin Henson’s hushed reverence as he proclaimed his love and esteem for his all time hero; a man he had finally met the week before, having admired him and his numerous achievements from afar for a very long time. That man? That hero?
Mr Peter Andre.
I had tears of comedy joy streaming down my face within seconds, then my sister rang me and we continued laughing for a least a good solid minute before we were able to say hello. Isabelle summed it up: “I was going to text you, but then I thought, no, this is a phone call moment”. How right she was. A-MA-ZING. I’m torn really – Henson is a munty, arrogant, stunned-trout-faced charisma vacuum and an atrocious dancer to boot, but I will never tire of laughing at his VTs.
Also worth a mention: Matt Baker’s tash, unicycle and ever sweaty forehead. And that was the week that snogged - my God they were all at it! Well, four of them. Bendy Kendall and everyone’s favourite Italian Pony Vinthent had a go, and then Kensit and Robin String-Vest followed suit. I have to say, Patsy and Robin is my favourite showmance of the series – it’s wonderful to see such a beautiful relationship developing between hag and fag. It's what every divorcee needs.
As for next week – surely Michelle’s in danger? Yes she tries, but my God, she’s not very good, is she? And with Brendan back, she can’t even rely on everyone’s love for Ian ‘tall’ Waite.
Finally, unlike the ridiculously quick-to-boo anything even mildly negative audience, I cheered CRH's view that Team Annton should have been in the Bottom Two (sorry Ben). I’m actually not even acknowledging Ann’s presence anymore. Total denial. It’s the only coping strategy that’s working...)
Week 3
And it’s Ola and Paul we’ve lost this week, and with them, Lanna’s £1. I’m sure they, and the lovely Debbie McGee liked that, not a lot, that’s magic, say yes Paul (yes Paul), etc. Fear not though flesh fans – I’m sure Ola and her dental floss meets candy floss costumes will continue to appear throughout the series. So far my favourite outfit was the ‘ass piece’ she wore in the opening show. (Thanks to my sister for coining that phrase.)
The Sunday results show continues to be essentially void of tension (#bringbackthedanceoff), but my what excellent pro-dance numbers. If you didn’t see the Charleston (theme: doing a zany dance whilst waiting at a bus stop) or the gang bang bondage Tango performed by Flavia and her bitches, then get thee to the iPlayer pronto! (Look out especially for the bit where James Jordan nearly drops Flavia. Mwahahaha.)
In other news, Tina ‘Corrie’ O’Brien had chicken pox – if she’s not back this week, then she and Jared, are OUT. Gavin trembles for his £1 stake.
This Saturday will also herald the return of Ian Waite and (I pray) his red trousers. He’ll be dancing with Michelle ‘Destiny’s Child no not Beyoncé, no not the other one, yes her’ Williams. It’s all for very sad reasons really – Brendan Cole’s father passed away, so he’s taken a leave of absence.
Finally, the Widdecombe juggernaut shows no sign of defeat. And yes, I am referring to Ann’s bosom. Where are Trinny and Susannah when you need them?
The Sunday results show continues to be essentially void of tension (#bringbackthedanceoff), but my what excellent pro-dance numbers. If you didn’t see the Charleston (theme: doing a zany dance whilst waiting at a bus stop) or the gang bang bondage Tango performed by Flavia and her bitches, then get thee to the iPlayer pronto! (Look out especially for the bit where James Jordan nearly drops Flavia. Mwahahaha.)
In other news, Tina ‘Corrie’ O’Brien had chicken pox – if she’s not back this week, then she and Jared, are OUT. Gavin trembles for his £1 stake.
This Saturday will also herald the return of Ian Waite and (I pray) his red trousers. He’ll be dancing with Michelle ‘Destiny’s Child no not Beyoncé, no not the other one, yes her’ Williams. It’s all for very sad reasons really – Brendan Cole’s father passed away, so he’s taken a leave of absence.
Finally, the Widdecombe juggernaut shows no sign of defeat. And yes, I am referring to Ann’s bosom. Where are Trinny and Susannah when you need them?
Weeks 1 & 2
So it was Goldie and Kristina who waved goodbye to the Glitterball trophy of destiny on Saturday and Anne who lost her £1. To be honest, and entirely partial, they woz robbed! They would have breezed a dance-off versus Peter Shilton and Erin 'Come on' Boag. Even Paul Daniels was better than them! Surely the 'Great' British public can't save Peter two weeks in a row? (Sorry Anita.)
Anyway, in the meantime, Strictly sweepstakers and fans may wish to take note of the relevant team names (most relying on the classic portmanteau model). Most of them are rubbish, to be honest, with two notable exceptions:
Dan - Team PamJam.
Abi - Team Kendal Vince Cake
Awesome.
For the rest, there's a list here:
http://www.bbc.co.uk/blogs/strictlycomedancing/2010/10/celeb-team-name-ideas.shtml
Anyway, in the meantime, Strictly sweepstakers and fans may wish to take note of the relevant team names (most relying on the classic portmanteau model). Most of them are rubbish, to be honest, with two notable exceptions:
Dan - Team PamJam.
Abi - Team Kendal Vince Cake
Awesome.
For the rest, there's a list here:
http://www.bbc.co.uk/blogs/strictlycomedancing/2010/10/celeb-team-name-ideas.shtml
Our sweepstakers and their couples...
We're doing a Strictly sweepstake - a £1 buy-in makes a winner's pot of £14, so there's much to play for.
Ladies and gentlemen, let's meet the stars of our sweepstake...
Dan - Pamela Stephenson and her dance partner James Jordan
Gav - Tina O’Brien and Jared Murillo
Laura - Jimi Mistry and Flavia Cacace
Ben - Ann Widdecombe and Anton du Bek
Lanna - Paul Daniels and Ola Jordan
Catherine - Kara Tointon and Artem Chigvintsev
Isabelle - Gavin Henson and Katya Virshilas
Anne - Goldie and Kristina Rhianoff
Abi - Felicity Kendal and Vincent Simone
Beth - Patsy Kensit and Robin Windsor
Anita - Peter Shilton and Erin Boag
Essi - Matt Baker and Aliona Vilani
Louise - Scott Maslen and Natalie Lowe
Alex - Michelle Williams and Brendan Cole
Ladies and gentlemen, let's meet the stars of our sweepstake...
Dan - Pamela Stephenson and her dance partner James Jordan
Gav - Tina O’Brien and Jared Murillo
Laura - Jimi Mistry and Flavia Cacace
Ben - Ann Widdecombe and Anton du Bek
Lanna - Paul Daniels and Ola Jordan
Catherine - Kara Tointon and Artem Chigvintsev
Isabelle - Gavin Henson and Katya Virshilas
Anne - Goldie and Kristina Rhianoff
Abi - Felicity Kendal and Vincent Simone
Beth - Patsy Kensit and Robin Windsor
Anita - Peter Shilton and Erin Boag
Essi - Matt Baker and Aliona Vilani
Louise - Scott Maslen and Natalie Lowe
Alex - Michelle Williams and Brendan Cole
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