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.