Series 9 - Week 5

Ahhh si.  And so we must say ciao. Ciao bella, ciao diva, ciao Nancy.  (And ciao Ben, who, we should remember, has had Anton in the sweepstake for two years' running – so particularly well done for hanging on in there.  We'll understand if you want to opt out next year.)

Clearly the rumba, the dance of lurrrve, that “vertical expression of a horizontal desire” (as it was so unforgettably described by Vinthent Simone), was just too much for Ms Dell'Olio.  Am sure we all sympathise entirely – having to pretend to want to shag Anton would test the likes of Dench, Streep, Blanchett... Hell, even Barrowman himself would struggle.  It didn't help, of course, that Nancy spent much of her rumba standing like Tina Turner, with room for a balloon between her thighs, in a dress that even Ola might consider revealing.  The less said about the coffin the better.

HOWEVER, I am DELIGHTED that before she went, we got to see Nancy looking truly magnificent as Morticia Addams in the opening Halloween group debacle – which, for all its chaotic ‘dancing’ issues, I flippin' LOVED.  Obviously it was another hot mess –  literally: the acrylic wigs an clear fire hazard – but I really enjoyed Donovan, doing his OTT ham-tastic Fester and (as ever) Russell, who was inexplicably dressed as a rotund French man. (I don't remember Pugsley having a Lievremont tash...?)  I was just slightly disappointed that Audley wasn't dressed as The Thing. 

But bravo Audley – for escaping exit and, more importantly, for his enthused fake piano playing.  Sure, his jive was a little lumbersome, but... well, Audley's man mountain size has been well documented already (he’s TALL in case we hadn’t noticed), though I always find him joyful and engaging, which is a big part of the Strictly spirit for me. (It must be hard for Natbot though, for whom the spirit of Strictly is to WIN AT ALL COSTS).  I can't remember much about Little Shop of Horrors, so I have no idea why Natalie was dressed as a frilly fruit cocktail, but how my feelings for Miss Lowe have changed that I wasn't screaming for her to be devoured by the plant thing at the end.  Well, much.

Am glad Russell made it through – I wasn’t too worried, but for the first time he seemed really nervous, his timing was a little off and it was very obvious when he forgot his steps.  The truth is that Russell Grant doesn't need a theme week to bring the theatricality and showmanship – I think Halloween week cramped his camp.  Having said that, he did manage to boob-bongo Flavia while pouting, perform his own chesticle shimmy while panting, shake his VPL at the audience (goodness knows what facial expression he had then) and produce some proper samba bounce, all while dressed as a tellytubby dressed as a devil, dancing to Kylie (who then tweeted Russell to see how it went – I imagine he EXPLODED with excitement).  I barely noticed Flavia in her black snakeskin catsuit, but I imagine I wasn't the target audience for that.

After Russell’s samba, Strictly took a rather unfortunate turn this week.  We’ve had slight wardrobe malfunctions before (notably Lilia - we miss you Liliaaaa - who had to do an entire cha-cha with her hand on her boob as the strap on her top had broken), but we've not seen a dress stress that mortified the dancer as much as this time - poor adorable Chelsee.  Yes, I've commented before on her body shape, but that doesn't mean I support breast-related public humilation.  Not on anyone!  Chelsee looked utterly destroyed afterwards and I felt extremely sorry for her.  It’s surprising really, that, having successfully reined in the Widdecombe bosoms for several weeks in 2010, Strictly Come Wardrobe risked stretchy lycra in this scenario, though having said that, the costume dept do seem to know how to keep an area in check, as I don't actually think anything peeped at all.  Chelsee spent most of the dance pressed against Pasha (*swoon*) and I didn't see anything beyond a little Carry On Cleavage appear during her twirls (that'll teach me for tweeting during performances), which wasn't indecent or out of the ordinary. 

Of course Bruce, ever the professional, didn't even notice and almost made the whole thing worse by making Chelsee talk about it, when all she wanted to do was crawl back into the cauldron, check whether YouTube was already flooded with the clip and cry a lot.

Anyway, in the name of research and public service, I've checked YouTube, and although a number of clips have been added and been compassionately tagged things like “Strictly Breast Come Dancing” (which is a pathetic lack of effort on the pun front), the video evidence strongly suggests you can't see nuttin, so Chelsee my dear, don't you worry.  As 'Xsasha12345X' so succinctly commented under the video for ‘Chelsee Nip Slip’: “if ur looking for someones boobs falling out of their top go watch some porn!!!!”.  Well said Xsasha12345X.  (*resists urge to reply to correct spelling and apostrophes* *recognises that at least Xsasha12345X used the right 'their'*.)

So I'm nearly done on nip-or-no-nip-gate, but before we move on I would just like to give some special Catherine points to true gentleman Robin Windsor, for immediately giving Chelsee a scarf to make her feel less exposed, and also to - and this will shock you - Tess Daly (!!!!) for showing her true maternal side, and being genuinely sweet and comforting to a Chelsee-on-the-verge-of-a-nervous-breakdown.  (Don't worry, Tess got her bitch right back on a few dances later by calling Lulu mad and senile, all for a rubbish batty/bat pun.)  Let's just hope this incident doesn't deflate Chelsee (errr, no pun intended) and she perks up next week (OH BLOODY HELL, I JUST INNOCENTLY TYPE THESE THINGS, OK?).

Alex Jones was in danger of being unperky this week (HER DANCING), after being meanly slated by Craig post-rumba.  But she did well, in her white nightie and clip-on hair extensions, dancing around a tombstone with James dressed as The Count from Sesame Street  -  an odd choice when he could have opted for tired and tested vampire hotties like Angel or Eric Northman (*TRUE BLOOD MEGA SWOON*) or even R-Pattz. (On that note, I’d like to add a personal thanks to Vix for persuading me to persevere with the Twilight films until that scene when Team Werewolf With The Pecs gratuitously strips off his T-shirt for no discernible reason after that irritating sulk Bella has a motorbike crash.  My how we laughed at his excellent priorities.)  Am also surprised James didn't insist on a wig that covered his receding hairline, but hey ho.

To be honest, even though everyone was in raptures about the Halloween costumes, I found myself noticing the cracks (um, not literally this week, thank you Alex).  For example, Holly is a stunningly beautiful woman who looks literally nothing like a man in any way, but during the Addams Family opener I spent a good few seconds trying to work out which male member of the show they'd persuaded to don drag, before clocking it was Valance.  And fishnet is not Holly's friend, it seems - after Broadway's granny pants botch job and this week's fairly unforgiving white swan outfit (nice pins, sure, but they couldn't find a swishy black skirt to ease the pressure of the steps?), well I'm wondering if Kara Tointon's been slipping someone in wardrobe a little minor sabotage cash...   Am not saying Holly looks rough (helloooo, I have eyes) but that she's having to work much harder with what she's given.  Still, her Black Swan eye make-up was completely high-levels-of-envy awesome and, like the judges, I was won over by the balletic American Smooth, even though Artem should have totally taken one for the team and worn tights.  Robin would've.

However, let's give wardrobe credit where it's due – this season, and this week in particular, has produced some absolutely remarkable trousers. Yes, trousers. So, on that note, it's time to update my Strictly Trousers Hit Parade.

*FANFARE*

Strictlycad's Top 5 Strictly trousers:

1. Ian's red.

2. Anton's gold.

3. Chelsee's white frills.

4. Ian's black bin bag sequins.

5. Robbie's highwaisted red with black sash and studded leg buckles.

(Anton put up a fight with his silver sequins, but they were ultimately out-trumped... Studded leg buckles for all!)

And it was indeed a fine paso from Robbie, high on the pelvic thrust count, which reduced Bruno to incomprehensible hysterics.  As for Ola (dressed as a glittery Navajo squaw for precisely no reason), well she does make me chuckle, but she needs to watch a bit more Snog, Marry, Avoid I think – she hasn't quite grasped the concept of the make-under, has she?  It's less slathering on the white facepaint and a slap wig and more making someone look, well, nice and ordinary.

In fact I'm a little worried that Robin's undergoing a make-under – that man must never look anything other than EXTRAORDINARY.  It's the LAW.  This week Robin wore three outfits in one: bottom half: fireman, top half: eccentric aristocrat with spider broach on cravat, face: Saturday night hen who's lost her friends on the dance floor and indulged in a heavy session of drunken weeping in the ladies causing some mascara trauma.  Frankly, quite muted by Robin's standards – can we have the flesh back soon please?

Lulu had also mixed her costumes – medieval princess meets RoboCop.  I note that Lulu's been surreptitiously improving, so things are going to get tough for the middling couples now Nancy's gone.  Well done on the flying Lulu!  It actually looked ok!  (Um, compared to Widdecombe.)  But really Beeb producers, was there really any need to show Lulu's batman bodysuit polterwang during the VT?

Well done to Dave Arch and his wonderful etc, by the way – not only did Trevor the bassist make the effort to adorn his pork pie hat with a plastic spider, but the band attempted some very challenging songs this week; oddly they pulled off Evanescence, but garbled Kylie.  And then they did one of my favourites to date: Psycho Killer. Qu'est-ce que c'est?  Fufufufafa... I'll tell you qu'est-ce que c'est. C'est an Aliona choreography I enjoyed! (!!!!!!!!!!!!!)  Spooky indeed.

No doubt my appreciation for Harriona's tango was heavily influenced by Aliona's weird routines being entirely apt for Halloween Week, but I thought she made excellent use of excessive violence in dance form, what with the fang bang and vicious death by head twist. 

Question of the week though: which overmarked-by-Alesha dance was better, Harry's tango or Jason's quickstep?  A tough call.  I think the quickstep edged it because of Kristina's nose twitch and her green chiffon pantaloons.  Oh and because I have Jason in the sweepstake and my little sister has Harry. Sibling rivalry ahoy!

My sister and I are generally in agreement on matters Strictly though, so I’m sure she’ll agree that Sunday’s guests, The Wanted, were entirely unwanted.  Get thee back to X Factor!  They really confused me – I thought boy bands were only supposed to have one ugly member, but they had at least two munters in there.  They also brought their own dancers (I object!) in leather corsets and those tacky platform boots you used to be able to buy in Camden market in the nineties (and still can, I imagine).  Even though our Strictly ladies often wear very teeny and revealing outfits, I truly believe they don’t they don't come off like The Wanted’s dancers did... you know... slutty.  As my sister put it - they're pros not hoes.  And I say that fully aware that Aliona, Kristina, Natbot and Katbot had just appeared on our screens in cut out leggings and their bras.  No doubt it was the coloured fringing from their evening gloves that kept it tasteful.  Indeed hanging adornments from your gloves was a running theme – giant cotton wool balls hanging from the white satin gloves in the pros’ American Smooth.

Now finally, a moment's quiet please.  ExcessTessDressMessBreastStressYes?  No, not really.  It's with a heavy heart that I must announce that it’s Alesha Dixon's outfit that gets this week's special mention in Strictlycad's fashion slagging paragraph. *slowly shakes head*  Her Saturday outfit was just so... WEIRD – a black chiffon top with a large grey blanket folded and folded and folded again, and stapled to her chest.  I know I said Alesha'd look good in a bin bag, but I'm now wondering. 

Interestingly Tess was actually wearing a bin bag this week!  A sequined, leather-edged, one-shouldered bin bag, which looked alright, if a little roomy (I’m being generous here – it was only 'alright' in the context of her usual offerings).  Her Sunday dress however, I frustratingly couldn't make out – it might have been a perfectly ordinary, nice navy blue satin number with pretty fuchsia waist detail, OR (more likely) it might have been a perfectly ordinary, nice navy blue satin number with an ill-advised fuchsia scarf made of feathers and fake flames, randomly tied around Tess' waist.  I couldn't see her shoes either, but I have a suspicion they matched her lips: nuclear framboise again - the perfect colour to go with hoops and a Bolton facelift.

So now,  with Nancy gone, I think the mid-table contest begins in earnest – some of the couples left might struggle (Lulu and Audley especially), but they're all gunning for Blackpool/Wembley and really really want it 150000000000%.  We're themeless next week (what a relief), so it’s business as usual I'd imagine – so woe betide anyone who overkills the props and keeps it light on ballroom content.  In the meantime, well, keeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep whateveritisyoudoduringtheweek-ing.

Series 9 - Week 4

Ah well, Rory, that didn't impress the Strictly viewers much (IMPRESS – GEDDIT?!). 

And bad luck to sweepstaker Fraulein Bryan (though YAY to have you back this year!) 

Very harsh for Rory, if you ask me – teams Rorin, Brelulu and Audalie were all contenders for low/mid-table vulnerability (we'll discuss Nanton later), so Rory was hugely unlucky to get a cha cha chaaaaa at this stage, a hard dance for anyone to pull off; the rule is clear and well established: older gent + cheeky latin = high cringe risk.  But bless him, he made a lovely speech about how much he enjoyed it, and how inspirational Erin is, and we all admired his new waistline.  It actually made me feel quite sad, but then I cried at Mrs Doubtfire, so...

And I always miss Erin once she’s gone, with her ‘I-may-look-elegant-but-if-you-mess-with-me-I-will-CUT-you’ approach to everything.  I’ll also miss her 2011 wardrobe - yet another lacy triumph this week!  After years in the costume wilderness (purple Honey Monster evening gown anyone?), she's finally been allowed to have the nice dresses.  My theory is that she finally cracked after the Peter Shilton cabaret hooker fiasco last year and during the summer the Strictly wardrobe mistress woke up to find a horse's head in her bed and got the message: no longer should Natalie be allowed to bag all the best frocks, as ultimately, Erin is harder.  See ya next year Miss Whiplash. xoxo.

And as for the other Bottom Two-er... Oh Nancy, you came and you gave without taking, and we didn’t send you away.  WELL PHEW!  Full confession, sweepstakers: I'm really warming to the Dell'Olio brand.  Her dancing remains fairly ropey (of course, I blame Anton for his usual gurn and plonk), but we saw during Len’s Lens (LOVE THAT FEATURE) that Anton had in fact been screeching encouragement throughout her paso stomp-lé, telling her what to do next, using technical terms like “rrrrrrrrrrrr”, “OPA!” and “SHAHHH”, as he threw her about.  Also brilliant was when he overtly nodded to indicate it was high kick time, and high kick she did, kung fu style and out of time, – mwahaha, that was probably my favourite bit. 

Actually, I lie.  My favourite bit was ALL OF IT, especially Nancy's talky bits. I just can't get enough of her sound bites, whether I understand them or not (it’s a 30-70 split). Coherent Nancyspeak goes something like this (roll VT): “last-a week I-a loved the mew-sic, I-a loved the cost-uume, I-a loved my actiiing and my dahhhnce. It was verrry well received” she purred, apparently oblivious to having nearly been kicked off the show, before inexplicably being taken by Anton to an East End city farm to 'get into the paso spirit', dressed in a flouncy blouse, PVC leggings and a child's pink wellies.  Practical yet elegant.  (And what pins!  Am starting to see what Dan, I mean, Pan sees in her.)  I also love that she terrifies Bruce at the end of each number; last week there was some crazeballs scenario about him coming to her dressing room, this week she grabbed him and murmured: Anton 'ee always turn me usssside down so the blood eet-a go to ma 'ead, I thiink he thiiink eet improve ma daahhhnciiiing' before turning back to Anton and punching him in the stomach.  MAY SHE NEVER LEAVE.  OK, may she leave in a few weeks, when even I get tired of her schtick.

Still, her schtick came in handy, when lo, Sir Bruce opted for a nice bit of teatime homophobia, asking Anton “have you ever danced with a Nancy before?” For fuck's sake, Bruce.  Really? *sigh*. Offscreen, Ofcom's switchboard started ringing, but, onscreen, unlikely heroine Nancy (getting EVEN more Catherine points) brilliantly diffused the situation by planting a smacker on Bruce's face and swirling off, all black silk and HRT.  Or possibly testosterone.

But come on Bruce - know your audience.  We aren't all Daily Mail housewives, and (whisper it), there may well even be some ‘Nancies’ watching the show.  Even Anton – the man who 'jokingly' used a well established racist term to describe a former dance partner's fake tan – was utterly flummoxed by the comment and didn't know what comeback was appropriate.  Maybe Bruce was too terrified by Nancy herself to think straight (hmmm - oh, and no pun intended BTW), but let’s at least be comforted that Len, himself not much of a stranger to political incorrectness, had been being quite happy to describe how he'd starred intently at Jason's buttocks for a minute and a half, without fear of being accused of (shock horror) liking men.  However, arise Sir Bruce, for your equality and diversity training.

Also controversial (well, if contrived drama is ever controversial – the judges were clearly under orders to put their mean hats on to shake things up) was the scoring – it was completely all over the place!  For starters, and I may be biased (I am biased), but Jason Donovan was OUTRAGEOUSLY underscored.  The curse of the opener, but still!  Harrumph.  Perhaps the judges were flummoxed by the fluffiness of Jason's golden armpit hair. (Did you see it in the VT?  Well, how could you not? It, like, GLOWED.)

Then again, if I’m honest, it was probably only Kristina's second best paso – nothing will rise above John Sergeant's bugle-soundtracked march and drag.  But she still looked awesome in spray on leopard print, dressed as the interior of a seedy gentleman's club, swinging her yellow acrylic pony tail, delighted that she didn't have to suffer extensive hip and thigh floor burn this time.

Of course the biggest scoring controversy was flipping 10-gate. Seriously Dixon, you're going to go there in WEEK FOUR?  A shame really, as Alesha The Judge had finally won me round – I'd nodded vigorously at several of her recent comments and, mercifully, there hasn't been any glaring YOU WOZism this year.   But, this week her credibility was lost again - a ten this early is just wrong.  Well, if it’s for Aliona, not that I’m biased (I’m still biased).  Double harrumph.  Sure, Harriona's waltz was fine, but it wasn't ten-fine - for starters, Harry was wearing a shirt.  I find the waltz fairly dull at the best of times and this one certainly didn't have that frisson a ten deserves.

However, I did like Harry's VT and his chat up line to fifties Aliona: “Your hair is nice and your dress is purple.  Well done.”  That's exactly how Gavin wooed me.  (Not really, it involved a mini kilt and shitloads of whisky.)

Now them, *deep breath* WWWWWWWWWWWWEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL” (thank you Lulu) – and then there was Shout-gate. (Shout! Hence Lulu reference! Hilarious, no? No? Argh! Quick! *insert curry pun here* Gosht, I think got away with that one..).  Anyway, James Jordan, ever mouthy and driven to frustration by his continually receding hairline, has been wanting to get shouty for a few weeks now, and finally the beast was unleashed (urgh).  First he snapped at the judges when he and Alex were in front of them and then he really got his shout on, leaning over the balcony to heckle the judges after Brendan and Lollipop Head, I mean, Lulu, did their samba (I thought their samba was actually ok - and *hello* Lulu’s dress - but it would have been way better if they'd kept their trumpets with them throughout).  Anyway, Shouty James was firstly unhappy at Craig's comments about Alex’s rumba (and they were, it must be said, pretty vicious and unnecessarily personal), and secondly, he was unhappy at being told off by Len, for the usual old chestnut, “too much messin' abahhht” – so promptly voted himself Professional Dancer Spokesman, informing the judges that the pro dancers knew what was good for their celebs and choreographed their routines accordingly, and that the content shouldn’t be the focus of the judging anyway – it should be about the dancing.

It’s an interesting one, to me at least (depending on how we're defining 'interesting', of course).  Traditional content always been Len’s bugbear, but this year, all the judges have been very conscious of the ‘dance’ to 'messing-abahht' ratio and it's clear they’re not too tolerant of much fannying around on the stairs to kill time.  And let's face it, we’re nine series in and every single Strictly tactic has now been thoroughly tried and tested.  Everyone - viewers, judges, even Claudia - is wise to it, and we all know what’s going on when a pro sticks a celeb in the middle of the dance floor and sexily flurries around them (yes Aliona I’m looking at YOU), or gets their celeb to do a bit of ‘acting’ on the stairs at the start; they’re (quite understandably) desperately using up performance time, because their celeb hasn’t yet mastered a sufficient number of dance steps to fill 90 seconds of ballroom, and, what’s more, if the celeb did try to wing some unperfected steps, they would very possibly be penalised on the scoring for being technically weak.  If the pros can’t rely on ‘filler’, the whole thing is quite lose-lose, and that’s quite tough on the pros - unless, of course, we start to see way more stair action than fleckerl action in every routine – and arguably that’s currently the case (certainly the judges suspect so).

But I also understand James' point – it’s not fair for the celebs to get judged on the professionals' choreography, as the celebs don’t have any control over that aspect, so the judges' comments should concentrate on the celeb’s ability to perform what they have been asked to perform.  Alesha made it clear that she agreed with James – she’s been on the other side after all – and she won’t penalise the stars for stair-faffing, whereas Len is much more grumpy-old-man about it (surprise surprise).  I suspect that Len, generally cast as the 'nice yet fair' judge, sometimes struggles to find positive things to say about some celebs and may feel more comfortable slating the professionals’ input.  Then again, Len also genuinely seems to hate anything that goes outside of the traditional ballroom or latin rulebook (unless it's last week's illegal Lulu lift. Oh bloody hell, we really are still talking about Lift-gate.  Bah!).

I'm not sure where I stand – yes of course the celebs are there to be assessed on their dancing, but clever choreography can play a major part in achieving great dance ability.  Anyway, I don't think this issue will die down anytime soon, as James loves the attention – it deflects from his balding - and I imagine all the pros will probably start doing what Brendan did, and counting how many bars are dance steps and how many are, ahem, ‘storytelling’.  (And am not convinced that the dance/filler ratio scores high on the ‘interesting statistic’ scale.)

Anyway, all those ‘controversies’ aside, most things were reassuringly as they should be: especially the return of CHRONIC Tess Dress Mess.  It was fairly low-level on Sunday, a tube dress the 1970s threw up on; she was essentially wearing the interior of an aging National Express coach, or Travel Lodge curtain.  But nothing could really prepare us for Sunday's offering.  YEGODS.  From the seventies to the eighties, in just 24 hours, and NOT IN A GOOD WAY.  I think she was trying to channel the Addicted to Love video, all ice queen supermodels, scraped back hair and LBDs with eighties hemlines.  Front on, the effect was dated, but turn to the side, and WHOA! – fleshtone bodystocking and polka dot measles, daringly pants'n'spanx free, all topped off with a Croydon facelift and a fresh application of Nuclear Framboise lip gloss.  Almost indescribable levels of heinousness.  Vilesville.

But credit where it is due – Tess’ bra is still doing its job effectively and her boobs remain finely wrangled.  And now, a rare word on Alesha Dixon Fashion Vixen; usually she looks fairly incredible (obviously helped by serious natural beauty), but Saturday's outfit was oddly marred by that massive red bow on her shoulder (one Twitter genius referred to it as her “Bruno Spit Guard”.  My how I 'lol'ed).  Not sure Sunday’s fuchsia was quite her colour, but she still looked magnificent – of course Alesha would look good in a bin bag.  Hang on, hasn’t Tess already worn a bin bag?

And so, finally we reach the dancing – which, truth be told, underwhelmed me a lot of the time, especially as last week had rather a few unexpected triumphs.  It's Week Four, of course, and the cracks are therefore starting to show.  I felt especially sorry for Alex Jones – the rumba is HARD and, to ease her nervousness at such a slow, exposed, sensual dance, they put her in a lace catsuit, with a chiffon front – just what a girl needs to support an ample cleavage.  Fortunately she has the figure for it, but, let's face it - she was basically naked, even if they tried to cover up her nether regions with a satin modesty flap.  I mean, the flap sort of worked, until she did that well known dance move 'rolling-on-the-floor', and gravity was no longer there to keep her modesty in place.  Yes, her rumba was a bit stilted, but I still say bravo to her.  It would take some serious incentive for me to don a skintight lace all-in-one and be made to writhe up against James Jordan.

Robin Windsor (who would look AWESOME in a lace bodysuit) had (slightly disappointingly) tucked his pecs away under a dress shirt, albeit with a Swarovski bow tie stitched on - understated jewel detail on top, TIGHTNESS on the bottom.  And what a bottom!  Like a shelf.  Thanks to the tightness, this week I learned that Robin's legs are so muscular, he is forced to walk like a cowboy, to avoid thigh chaffing.  I still LOVE Anita (her little face when she got straight 8s!) although I thought Team Dobbin were (again) a bit messy (but fun).  I also *finally* discovered what a heel turn is (merci Len's Lens - the feature that keeps on giving) – it is LITERALLY a turn on your heels.  Whodathunkit?  And how perfect was the American Smooth for their body types?  Very.
 
Or to put it another way:
Q: How high can a buff beefcake throw a teeny tiny lady? 
A: HIGH.

Best TV earrings this week:
1.  Alex Jones
2.  Holly Valance
3.  Anita Dobson
4.  Oliver Proudlock from Made in Chelsea

Holly didn't really seem to enjoy the Viennese Waltz, but I think she lived up to her own hope: “I want to nail it. Like a lady.”  As you were, Valance, very good – nice lamppost slalom.   Also nailing it - our Chelsehh.  What an awesome quickstep!  (With a completely random but rather effective air hostess theme, including shadow planes lighting up the dance floor.)  Personally I don't really remember the good old days, when the rich could check in for their flight via the medium of dance - but it is disappointing that you don’t get that option with online check-in for Sleasyjet. 

Chelsee is the dark horse, and I hope she stays awhile.  I was worried at first, but I note that slowly but surely, she's being made-under.  And as each frizzy platinum hair extension is replaced with a sleek brown ironed lock, middle England feels more comfortable and less inclined to want her OUT for being brash and Northern.  Personally, I'm gunning for the Chelsea Floor Show – boom boom (thanks to Dan ‘I heart Nancy’ Bentley for that one).

Oh, obligatory I love Pasha reference: I love Pasha. *SWOON* And JIVE!!!! (More on that story later, viewers.)

Ignoring the fact that Robbie Savage got the same score as Jason (TRAVESTY), I rather enjoyed his flailing, pelvic thrusting, jive and camera snog.  Seeing as I have limited to nil interest in football, I haven't been bogged down by whatever his reputation on the pitch might have been (rubbish, as I understand it), but in Strictly terms, he has – rather surprisingly – won me over.  He puts his all into the dance and pleasing Ola (as if you'd dare to disobey), and he seems to love it – which is always nice to see.  (Also, I don't think he can help that slightly crazed look in his eyes – it's just that the whites of his eyes are highlighted by his gleaming ultraviolet teeth.)  But, what really made him warm to him was this tweet to fellow Welshie Alex (click here). 
Bless.

And finally, Russell, in turquoise silk, playing it butch this week, thanks to excess guyliner, a Eurythmics soundtrack and a teddy bear.  I particularly enjoyed him jumping back into bed at the end of his routine and visibly bouncing up and down on the mattress several times - you can't fight physics, Russell love.   I think he loves it even more than Robbie does – as demonstrated by our weekly slow-motion Len's Lens' view of Russell's FACE OF DANCE AND/OR SEX JOY.  A lovely reminder that, in amongst the mean comments and general air of uncomfortable tension, there was definitely some Strictly happiness on Saturday’s show.

Fortunately, Sunday's results show took on rather a more exciting air – with two INCREDIBLE pro dances.  (Seriously, amongst the best I've seen.)  Flavia and Vinthent always impress with their exhibition Argentine Tango, but this one left me speechless (as did Flav’s general muscle tone – grown men would kill for her body, and I don’t just mean that in a nookie-with-Flavs context).  Pasha and Katya were also amazing – it was properly fantastic to see how fast a real jive should actually go, although I have zero understanding of how they can flick and kick at that speed, without looking like a jelly-legged blur.  It just goes to show that the celebs have a long, long, long way to go – and that level of leg speed proficiency ain't going to happen in ten weeks.  Not even for Jason.

And next week – Halloween.  Cue ghostly noises and horror.  Cue plonking a cauldron in the middle of the dance floor and waltzing around it.  Cue GOD KNOWS WHAT make-up Dell’Olio and Grant will be sporting.  Whoooo oooo.... Mwa ha haaaaa...  Here’s hoping for a good one, and JUSTICE FOR JASON.  That's all for now folks, keeeeeeeeeeeeep etc etc etc.

Series 9 - Week 3

They say the neon lights are bright, on Broadwaaaaaaaaay. It took me ages to work out that Broadway week meant Musicals week – the concept being: pick a random musical and shoehorn a ballroom dance around it, regardless of how well it may or may not work. And not getting a callback this week.... Mr Dan Lobb On and Ms Katya Virshilas, waltzing to that Broadway classic Somebody To Love by the well known musicals composer, Anita's husband. Curtains for Lobb On! Jazz hands!

Sorry Laura, but while you'll no doubt mourn your £1, I'm sure you, like the rest of the UK, won't mourn the loss of Dan. On It Takes Two, Katya kindly blamed Dan's lack of fame, and it's true that his low profile didn't help (though, frankly, if that's what Daybreak offers, no wonder it goes unwatched). But I'd also put his exit down to, you know, his lack of dance talent, his lack of charm, his lack of modesty, his lack of funniness, his TOTAL lack of ANY chemistry with Katya (I mean even that gormless plank Gavin Henson managed that), his lack of etc etc etc. So, you might sense that I won't miss Dan, and you're right, but I will miss Scary Katya – may she return in 2012 to terrify another alpha male into submission. Bye bye Dan, you leave us as you came to us - the ITV Chris Hollins.

Also in the bottom two (and forever indebted to whichever producer killed the Dance Off) was our Italian, er, Mare, Nancy Dell'Olio. I thought Nancy was rather unfairly slated by the judges this week – yes she was pretty terrible, but she had definitely improved, and look at what's she's up against – FLIPPING ANTON. Anton's the one the judges should fire their ire at. Nancy may well be eccentric and crazeballs, but she clearly has an overdeveloped nose... for injustice... and I think she's starting to get angry now – at being the comedy character, at being so harshly judged by Len and Craig, and at being lumped with Pants Bum du Beke (Pants Bum! Hahaha, the immature ones are the best). And frankly I don't blame her – as usual, Pants Bum's just not bothering. I mean, it may not be possible to teach Nancy much, as she seems rather... headstrong, but still, Anton's being an arse. (Hardly a surprise, Anton *is* an arse.) So next week, in front of the Italian ambassador, I'd like to see our Nancy aim a swift stiletto to his (un)happy sacks - er, Anton's, not the ambassador's. Si si, Nancy. Bellissimo.

In other exciting Nancy news, one of our number has a SERIOUS crush on Senora Dell'Olio. (I imagine the scarlet corset and fishnet outfit must have had quite an effect on Saturday night.)  Let me quote the anonymous sweepstakee: “I'm quite prepared to accept that she might be a frightful human being, but I am massively attracted to her. Strangely, it was not until I heard her speak for the first time that I went a bit weak-knee'd about her. Attraction is a curious beast, I suppose, but to me she simply oozes sex and I LOVE her defiantly humorous asides. She's so..... Italian!”

Guess who? Clue: his name rhymes with Pan Pentley. But don't mess with Pan – his love for Nancy is true.

And now, on with the show... And how did Broadway Week do it for you? All in all I quite enjoyed it, though wasn't quite sure what to make of the slightly shambolic pro-dance numbers on Sunday – best to ignore them I think, so I'll make no mention of Strictly Side Story (da, da da, da dah, mam-NO) or those obnoxious kids in that Footloose remake (IT'S A KEVIN BACON-LESS TRAVESTY!). As for Saturday's pro-dance show-opener, well obviously I'm all for gold sequinned ties and knickers and jazzy hatography, but surely they must know by now not to get the celebs involved any more than is Strictly necessary. Dear me. Just awful. Celebrity limbs being casually tossed all over the place and poor Jason, all alone in his movements, ever the pro – having to hide his furiousness that he was being made to look like he didn't know the steps, when he was clearly the only celeb who knew the routine (erm, yeah, or something). But I was glad to see the tightie whitie tux shirts'n'braces making another outing on all the male dancers (though poor Vinthent doesn't quite fill his lycra out like Artem or Robin, does he – oh bless our Italian Pony). Still, if they continue to wear those tops, I'll start to worry about the sweat patch situation. That material is unforgiving.

In fact, while I'm on the costumes, I might as well carry on discussing Strictly Couture – for the outfits were probably the highlight this week. (AS EVER!!! THE DANCING?!?! WHATEVS!!!!) Obviously nothing matched Robin's nipple-grazing dalmatian spotted gillet, but let's acknowledge Artem's riposte and attempt at a pec-off - sporting a chiffon vest (and showing off way bigger boobs than Holly in a similar outfit). However, Robin was already one step ahead of Artem, upping the ante by shifting focus and donning A FULL ON FRICKING MAN WIG!!!!! Pecs are so last week, Artem – get with the programme! It's time to get wiggy with it! Oh Robin, you're extraordinary.

Also extraordinary – Erin's dress. I genuinely loved it! I may be alone, but I thought it was GORGE. May Robin borrow the top half in later weeks.  On the stinker list, however, the bottom half of Holly's outfit. Up top she was a Wonderbra chiffon goddess, down below, it was 50 denier granny pant city - seamless hold-you-in-tights offer limited sex appeal, and I speak from experience.

As for Tess, well, it was all looking fairly good on Saturday night in that lacy black number! Sure, her hair hadn't been brushed (Tess Tress Mess is now standard) but - and let's all take a moment here - just below her neckline... Surely not... But yes! Symmetrical boobs! Wowsers! Finally, her breasts were exactly where you'd expect them to be!!! Thank you Ma Daly's new bra fitter: Tess Chest Yes.  Both Dalys were also happily in place on Sunday (whoop!), but, sadly, so was the return of Tess Dress Mess, in the form of a flesh coloured asymmetric monstrosity, with a scattering of jewels encrusting the shoulder pad and sleeve like expensive dandruff – as if a bird had shat rhinestones on her shoulder. And all finished off with that classic lipstick shade: 'Nuclear Apricot'. Vile. Hurrah!

In the meantime, up on the balcony (RIP Tesspit), Claudia had gone all 'Tonight Matthew I'm Going To Be Cleopatra In A Satin Cape'. I'm letting that pass without comment, because we all know the law – Claudia Winkleman can do no wrong.

But to the dancing! (FINALLY, they cry.) Lots of improvement this week, which is encouraging, and the mid table places are jostling with couples who probably won't win, but don't deserve to leave yet – and who, from a strategic point of view, should be gunning for Blackpool (or Wembley, as it seems to be this year) and making sure they are the first to mention their 'jourrrrrrrrrney...'

Usually there are three defined groups (the Good, the OK, the Ugly – one Good will win, one OK will be controversially kicked out far too early, and one Ugly will outlast their welcome), but this year there seem to be two main camps rather than three: Firstly, 'Camp Pre-prepared' - Jason, Chelsee, Harry and Holly, who all have performing backgrounds, are naturally able and are (mostly, Har*cough*ry) living up to that ability. Secondly there's 'Camp No Previous Performing Experience But Not At All Bad Actually', currently formed of Bremner, Savage, Alex Jones, Anita (well, glossing over her lack of previous performing experience), Lulu (ditto), and yes, even Audley and Russell (and camp's certainly the word where he's concerned, BOOM BOOM.) So that's only Dell'Olio left then. In Camp 'Oh Dear', I suppose.

Anyway, all that campery means that it's hard to work out who's the chaff, as we've got a fair amount of wheat and, er, nearly wheat. And the nearly wheat (i.e. that second group: Camp NPPEBNAABA) did pretty well I thought... Savage's Mamma Mia tango, Bremner's Top Hat quickstep and Jones' Cats waltz were all elegant and poised – though all three were lucky to be on a ballroom week, protected by being in hold, and with simple routines cleverly choreographed by Ola, James and Erin, old pros showing their experience and competition strategy. (TAKE NOTE ALIONA.) Alex in particular has surprisingly grown on me – I'm starting to 'get her' (it's that Welsh ditzy thing a la Stacey Gavin-and-Stacey), but I was very disappointed that their waltz to Memories didn't include ANYTHING Cats related. No cat ears, no cat tail, no Grizabella mangy fur coat , no catsuited Louie Spence...

Mind you, Robbie and Ola had limited Mamma Mia content too – not asking Pierce Brosnan in to sing was a particular missed opportunity. (I will NEVER forget seeing him sing SOS, Abi and I were IN TEARS in the cinema. If you've not seen Mamma Mia, then... just do.). Anyway, Bruno certainly enjoyed Robbie's 'performance' and gave his feedback through the medium of song, much to Craig's withering disgust (at Bruno), cue Bruno's hissing disgust in return (at Craig) – you can watch it again here and then please tell me (1 hour 14 mins 35 secs in), does Bruno say that Craig is “bitter” or does he tell him to “piss off”. Totally hope it's the latter.

As much as I love them, Anita and Robin and Robin's wig did underwhelm me a little during their performance, but their jive was still messily infectious – perhaps it was just a little too risky to pick a song we've already seen a brilliant jive to (Erin and Austin - and the only other time she wore an outfit I totally coveted: a mini dress made of royal blue streamers. HELLO). But Anita'll be mighty glad to have the jive behind her, as that thing can certainly have an older lady come a cropper. Quite literally.

I also really enjoyed Audley's performance – yes, he's still dad disco dancing, but he does it with panache, and in this case, a red velvet waistcoat. We all know I'm anti-Aliona this year, but I can't not point out Natalie is still pure evil – making Audley train in an Ashtanga studio, at like five billion degrees? Her circuitry must be way robust to handle those temperatures. You can hear her machinery whirring as she wonders whether she's done enough to sweat him down to a danceable size.

For me, Lulu was the weakest (after Lobb On) – I didn't like the 'Andrew Lloyd Wailing, rumba in your nightie' concept, and though Brendan did his best to hide her dodgy footwork (with excess floor smoke, ostensibly for atmosphere - ha) and her failure to remember the moves (picking her up and spinning her around, in what will be remembered as Illegal Lift-gate for precisely zero years to come), it just didn't grab me. I think Lulu should be next to go, but I smell a controversial exit for Week 4 – perhaps our little Chelsee? I actually think Chelsehh's great, but I have a feeling the Great British Public won't see past her trashy exterior and her bouncing (yes both of them), which, frankly, would be a Pasha-related tragedy. Nancy is vulnerable, sure, but other than that...? I suspect Russell has a fair few weeks left in him, if he doesn't spontaneously combust with delirious joy at the whole thing. (A legitimate fear - he just bloody loves it, doesn't he?!)

OH! Speaking of Russell's joy, did any of you see Dr Pamela PamJam 'Wife of Billy Connolly' Stevenson on It Takes Two on Monday, psychoanalysing the couples' body language from rehearsal footage? There were some terrific insights, but it was also completely car crash – for starters, she said that Harry and Aliona would have to learn to contain the romantic side of their relationship – SO MANY LEVELS OF HA! They may be both young and lithe, but together they're a sexless charisma vacuum - in fact, I nearly VOMMED during their forced faux-flirtation in the Grease VT. “Tell me about it, stuuuuud”. EWW. That line does not work in a Russian accent. Just AWFUL. Though, my goodness, under that leather jacket, Harry was... taut. ANYWAY (breathe Catherine), Harriona aside, my favourite Dr PamJam moment was when she said that “introvert” Flavia was at risk of becoming an overeater (!!!!) because she might feel the "subconscious need" to "literally take up more space" to compete with Russell's “very big personality”!

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA x INFINITY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I love Dr PamJam, but jealous of the Cacace six pack much? Besides, I think it's safe for Flavs to go at the pies for quite some time before she needs to worry about her chub levels. I can't wait for Dr PJ to analysis the rest of the couples next week. MUST SEE STUFF.

By the way, a propos of nothing, least of all psychoanalysis, ahem, did anyone catch Countryfile just before the Results Show? There was a particularly instructive segment in which Matt Baker was featured at a market, frying a delicious looking, fat, meaty, sizzling sausage on a stall and offering it to random punters and asking for feedback. I kid you not. My Twitter timelime went mental with “Matt's sausage snarff snarff”-based filth.

Now, where was I? Flavia's pies, done, Harry's stomach, done, Dr PamJam's Freudian penis, done... Oh, it must be Jason's turn! Well wowsers. Seriously kids, that £14 is mine. And don't ask me – ask the judges! Third week in a row at the top of the leader board and straight 9s – even from Craig! And all whilst borrowing Alex's feather fan (BBC cuts in action) and wearing a fuchsia shirt. Kudos to Kristina – the choreographical (yes I know that's not a real word) marriage of camp disco hand gestures and macho ballroom steps really worked, and Jason totally had his butch tango face down pat – just the right mix of anger and constipation. Excellent work. I didn't even regret the lack of drag! (I did, a bit, obviously). VICTORY WILL BE MINE, MWAHAHAHAHA.  

MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!!

*dramatic curtain fall*

The End

So, that's that stakers, curtain down on Broadway week, applause, bows, flowers, adoration, mmwah mwaah loves, backstage beckons darlings, let's get smashed on asti and inappropriately snog fellow cast members, regardless of gender or sexual preference. Jazz hands!

Back to normal next week, I'd imagine. Nancy's doing a paso – perhaps she'll 'accidentally' strangle Anton with the cape! On that note... Keeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep hoping.

P.S. Anyone else miss the curry puns? Or is it better if there are naan?

Ghee hee hee.

Series 9 - Week 2

So my little cousin used to have this amazing Barbie collection, of (probably) thirty or so dolls – so many that she couldn't really keep track of them all, and I'd often find one stuffed down the back of the toy cupboard, half dressed, legs akimbo, blonde locks in a dreadful state; static nylon hair sticking out in all directions, matted to high heaven – unrescuable without resorting to the kitchen scissors and turning her into Eighties Feminist Barbie. Sad times. But what relevance I hear you cry? Well, I was instantly reminded of this tragic toy story when Tess appeared on our Saturday screens with her hedge-drag backcombed hairdo, looking like a cut price Beyonce. Tess Tress Mess, if you will. I mean the dress itself had a certain purple sequined funkiness to it (usual wonky boobs aside), but would a hairbrush be too much to ask for?

But on Sunday she looked - shock horror gasp – well, quite nice, in a nude crossed neck thing (oh yes, I know all the f ashion terms, me), which - shock horror gasp – DID NOT GIVE HER WONKOID BOOBS! (And as I'm feeling generous, I'll gloss over the weird metal milkshake beaker on her arm and her ungainly stripper clodhoppers.) In fact it it was the lovely Claudia who had donned a slightly, um, curious satin creation, but she's just had a tiny baby, so actually she can do whatever the hell she wants. Claudia... She's still got it, hasn't she? One question in, and BAM, Robbie Savage hair joke. Love her.

Good to see the return of the Sunday show, with its oversexed pro-dance and the guessing game of 'will this week's celebrity singer be too precious to let the Strictly pros perform to their song and insist on keeping their own backing dancers' (answer: yes, Will Young *is* too precious, though not so precious as to ensure his backing man-dancers have sturdy wigs – I was expecting one of those black mop tops to fly off and perhaps whack Len or Prescott in the face). I also very much enjoyed Sunday's new feature, 'Len's Lens', which featured slow mo close ups of certain dance moves – Russell's 'salsa' face... Just.... Wow.  In fact, in honour of Len's Lens, I've decided to to implement a (possibly) regular Len-based feature called Len's Boo Boos, in which I simply list all the offensive things Len managed to trot out that week, so here we go:

1. “They let anyone in these days” on reacting to Craig becoming a British citizen (nothing like a bit of casual racism).
2. Employment of that heinous phrase “calm down dear” in patronising response to Chelsee's energetic dancing (he joins other illustrious users MichaelWinner and David Cameron – need I say more?).
3. Incitement to violence as a way of dealing with detractors (telling Audley to punch Craig – it was last week but whatevs).
4. Calling Scotsman Rory Bremner “English” (the BBC complaints line will be going mental).
5. Shamelessly admitting to “a crafty glance up Nancy's dress”. Just too much information.
6. Two vagina jokes.

But enough - to business, and the contest! And this week, the demise of Edwina Curry. Terry aside - given his £1 investment - is anyone sad to see Edwina leave? Vinthent isn't, that's for sure! He was thinking “gracie a dio, only one more contractual obligation on the It Takes Two sofa, and I'm done with the old perve.” To be honest, she wasn't the worst we've ever seen, but I do think it was her time, which is harsh when it's week two, but she was justifiably compared to a bendy bus negotiating a roundabout (love you Bruno), which is fairly telling. 

Of course Edwina's exit does mean that that's it on the curry puns already. Hey, it's no big dahl.

And at least Edwina can take it jalfrezi now.

Besides, I'm not sure I could have handled seeing her dance again – it would have been a masala (er, massacre... Too far?)

Ghee hee hee! (GEDDIT?!?! GHEE hee hee!)

And what about The One That Got Away (AKA Strictly Does Racism)? Poor Audley, he wasn't second worst, or even third or fourth. Russell aside, I think he was probably the finest of the male salsas; Lobb On looked very clunky and Rory is still going that sinister Tony Blair grin. (Russell of course, was in a class of his own. DID YOU SEE HIS SLEEVES?!!! Amazing.) No, I was pleasantly surprised by Audley - dressed as a funky reject from Star Trek (Gav's line), he looked like he was having a whale of a time, had his moves down pat and even managed error-free armeography (which lovely Anita didn't). Sure, it was disco dad dancing, but there's plenty of room for (joyful) disco dad dancing in the second week – not bottom two worthy at all. Though obviously it's always hilarious to see Natbot's circit board in danger of furiously overheating. (Ghee hee hee.)

Question: Who is deader behind the eyes, Natalie Lowe or Alex Jones?
It's a tough call, but hopefully It Takes Two will look into it at some point.

Alex Jones did look gorgeous, and was genuinely much improved. Apparently using tazers to force your celeb to learn their steps is not only fine, but effective. Well done both Jordans, in fact - both James and Ola really showed off their teaching abilities; Robbie Savage too was far better this week too, though both he and Alex were helped hugely by classic Jordan choreography. Also, Robbie manfully dealt with a sequined umbrella and wasn't too distracted by Ola flesh flash (that dress looked quite decent, but yegods Grandma, what strategically-placed slits you have! Even when she's covered, she's uncovered!). As for Alex and James – you know its good when Len doesn't complain that the opening bit (when she snogged Prescott behind a large feather fan) comprised of “far too much messin' abahht”.

Also, can I just say that THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH HAVING DIFFICULTY REMEMBERING LEFT AND RIGHT.

Gavin has determined what confuses him about our Chelsee – the things that should be small are big and the things that should be big are small. He may be right, but I was far too distracted by her AMAZING white fringed pantaloons and her genuinely excellent dance ability and all round sass to assess her proportions in much detail (apart from her crazy boobs, obviously, no-one can miss them.) Also Pasha was on screen. Ah Pasha.

I'm wondering if Chelsee even has the edge on Valance... Valance is dead good though, isn't she? Like Alesha said... (I know!!! Agreeing with Alesha!!! You know, I think she's *finally* won me over, a hundred series later! And she hasn't said 'you woz' once yet!!!!) Anyway like Alesha said, Holly just needs to let go a little and she'll be right on it, even when forced to wear a fifties swimming cossie with a bum ruff down the back.

Of course neither of them have yet matched up to Jason 'taking this slightly too seriously' Donovan, who is rather good at ballroom too – it's almost like he's been professionally trained in musical theatre... Alesha said she was seduced by Jason - well, she's of that age - but I suspect a number of eyes were actually on Kristina: Who Framed Rampant Rabbit (that's Gav again – he's nicking all the best bloody lines).

(I have to say, it feels like I've been blogging forever, and there are still FOUR couples to dissect! OK onwards, then.)

Lulu can't really ballroom dance, but who cares - all I can see when I look at Lulu is how bloody youthful she looks. A vision in turquoise feathers – and I mean that in a good way. By the way, can we all take a look at Brendan's face and see where we stand on Brendan's-Had-A-Facelift-Gate? He swears he's just had a haircut...

As for Harry, well, snore. He was clinically competent, but boring; very good, but there is zero chemistry between him and Aliona – it feels like a missed opportunity. I'm actually going right off Aliona these days; while she can dance (boy can she dance), her choreography and teaching skills seem less impressive (she's put out some downright dance floor stinkers in previous years) and she's actually incredibly snotty and arrogant. Looks like Natalie Lowe's getting some respite, as my ire turns to Arrogant Aliona and her stupid faded stupid hair, which is totally stupid.

Anita I love, but I barely noticed her tiny nipped in waist and Minnie Mouse on crack/crazy cocktail waitress outfit, or even her enjoyable cartoon salsa and slightly messy armeography, because I only had eyes for one pure and beautiful thing – ROBIN WINDSOR'S SLASHED TO THE NAVEL POLKA DOT LYCRA WAISTCOAT. To be honest, the rest of the show could have been complete gash and I'd have still come away happy after seeing that outfit. (Please Gods of Strictly, next week can we see Robin in the waistcoat, but perhaps matched with a man variation on Chelsee's fringed trousers, possibly in chaps form – err, but with dotty pants? Thanks!)

Little insight into Gavin/Catherine domestic bliss:
Gav: I didn't realise Anita was married to Brain May.
Me: Oh yes. They have the same hair. That's the whole point.

And then it was Nancy's turn, introduced by Bruce flossing his bum with a mint boa whilst singing 'la Cucaracha'. Urgh. You always fear the worst with an Anton latin, and the worst always materialises; Anton gurning and shunting his partner around the floor, not bothering to have taught her anything. At least we were spared his chest rug this time. (Aliona, take heart, Anton is still bottom of my hate list.) Last time his tactic was 'pretend to go wrong and blame it on the boa', this time it was 'Nancy, don't worry about dancing, just point your jiggly bottom at Len' – and it garnered a 5, so it wasn't a total disahhhhster, but no-one seemed that happy with the outcome, least of all Nancy. I have no idea what she actually said, but she frowned, pointed at her knee and I think I made out 'injury' 'Cinderella' and 'wheelchair'. Go figure.

And that, my dance fan friends, is that. Lots of good stuff to come, though I remain unconvinced that next week's Broadway Night will provide that much ofit. But all we know the drill and we're all still dead excited, aren't we? AREN'T WE? Yes! And to that end, we'll all keeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep watching.

Series 9 - Week 1 - Part 2

So let me start by saying, READ IT AND WEEP SUCKERS I GOT JASON DONOVAN IN THE SWEEPSTAKE THAT £14 SWEEPSTAKE POT IS TOTALLY MINE FOR THE SECOND YEAR IN A ROW I AM THE BEST WHOO HOO HOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

WHOO HOO HOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Sorry, was apparently channelling Natalie Lowebot there – apols for the unsightly display of naked gleaming arrogant all-Australian competitiveness, but wowsers Jason! I really wasn't expecting such a stormer from my sweepstakee! So that's what Kristina can do with a competent dancer! It's nice to see.

But first let's re-re-wind to the start. What is that shot of Anton with the serving dish about? I find it sinister, like he's about to reveal Anne Widdecombe's head inside it. But let's get on, roll VT, opening credits are go, I still love Robin's lycra tux with built-in braces, Brucie does his joddery old dance, Tess proves again how terrible a dancer she is, and we're off again, again. Yippee!

So what is Tess wearing today? Eyeliner mainly. She's looking quite Jerry Hall in fact, which can't be bad. In fact the extent of Tess Dress Mess is limited - some passable, but terrifying, Roman stripper sandals and two dresses for the price of one – in black, which is merciful. To be honest, though it's still a little wonky (it's Tess after all) we've seen far worse. How disappointing. I want something vile please next week Tess. There's no point if I can't slate it. Ta love.

All the celebs seem to manage the stairs ok: Nancy's a vision in mint feathers, Robbie's covered up his errant nipple with fushia silk and Aliona/Flavia are having an six-pack off. Flavs edges it, I think.

Then first up Harry Judd-McFly – Bruce makes a terrible 'is that a Scottish budget airline' gag (the likes of which delay proceedings and means they have to cut the pre-recorded pro-dance – utter sacrilege!). In the VT Harry demonstrates his orgasm face, which he calls his 'nervous face' (HA!), and we're reminded of Aliona's mid-week faded pale orange lanky hair. Oddly she hasn't dyed it its usual do-not-adjust-your-sets crimson for tonight's prime time – the first Strictly victim of BBC austerity measures, perhaps? Course she still looks lovely in her costume (a ruffle and some strategically placed glitter spray) and posh Harry's also rather jolly bloody good show old bean - a bit stiff of face and slightly nervous about grabbing Aliona's bottom (and I certainly don't blame her for choreographing that move), but definite competition. Things are hotting up.

And hooray that Sir Brucie FINALLY remembers to introduce Dave Arch and his fabulous orchestra. And MEGA PHEW, BARRY THE BEHATTED BASSIST IS STILL IN THE LINE-UP! We can all tick him off our theoretical Strictly bingo card. Thank God he's not been Arlened.

Poor Erin – still in limbo; they won't kick her off a la Lilia, but they won't give her a winning celeb either. But she's an old pro, resigned to her fate (Anton) so has plenty of experience of non-funny humour, which, let's face it, applies to most of Rory's impressions. Erin clearly finds Rory's impressions properly annoying - it shines through, even though it's been a long time since her face had enough natural flexibility to show that kind of emotion. Anyway, Team Rorin did a bog standard boring but competent enough waltz – exactly as we'd expect. Classic mid-table. Pfff.

Still, there's no need for Rory to worry just yet IMO, as there's no feasible way he'll be leaving before Alex 'annoying and really quite rubbish' Jones. Judging from her VT, she's either a) not very bright, or b) bright enough but pretending to not be very bright. Option a) is unfortunate but irritating, option b) is a smack in the face of feminism, so, no, she's not top of my list. As for James, I used to LOATHE him, til PamJam brought out his good side, but I'm not sure the appeal will be sustained with Smart Alex as his partner. Anyway, he's had a few protein shakes over the summer and indulged in a press up or two in preparation for the show. I suspect it's to compensate for the balding.

Chelsee. Hmmm. She's a mystery to me. Bit trashily fake, could do with a makeunder, but then really sweet and elegant on the dance floor - though she was a bit of a wobbler... Course, we can all think of two reasons why balance might be an issue. Boom boom. Actually, on that boob-related note, did you hear la Daly's tit 'joke' about her: “Our Chelsee – you're the most popular runner oop the stairs”. MIAOW! I know we're all a bit obsessed with the physics of Chelsee's breasts (oh, just me? Well, me and Brendan, who actually fell off his step when Chelsee jogged past) but come on! And besides, although her chest is large (so very, very large), there is literally zero movement in those ballroom bustiers – they held Widde's er, combes and they'll hold Chelsee's healeys. In fact, the scaffolding underneath those dresses is far too sophisticated for any Baywatch bouncing, so ACTUALLY Tess Daly YOUR comment was not just out of place and sexist but INCORRECT, whereas mine was scientific analysis. Educational, yeah? ALRIGHT?

Anyway, Pasha can stay too. Oh yes. Pasha can... Ok. Moving on.

Moving on, somewhat sadly, to Eggwina and Vinthent. Well, she did her best and had some rhythm, but it was fairly awful really (especially in the VT when she described moshing to the Beatles and wanting to cover Vinthent in cream and... JUST NO.) However, Vinthent seems to be getting over the initial shock and his instinctive resistance to touching her and is even able to joke about the situation: “Make love to the camera Edwina” was a good one. A '2' from Craig was harsh, but I do hope her stay on Strictly will be brief – there's only so many curry puns we can deal with. And let's not forget she's a Tory, so she has to be voted out soon - that's just korma. Oh yes! *bows*

Also, I hope Edwina doesn't forget her ballroom under-girdle, I don't want to see her saag aloo. HAHAHA *graciously accepts the applause*.

Oh, I hear Edwina's written some novels. Trash? Or is she a good raita? *You're too kind!* *enough*.

And then Nancy. I'm still not entirely sure what happened there. Possibly Anton had planned for them to spend half the routine with their ankles trapped in a peppermint feather boa, to disguise the fact that Nancy didn't know what the hell she was doing... Or possibly she did know what to do, but couldn't precisely because they were trapped in the boa and it was an unfortunate wardrobe malfunction. It was WEIRD. Either way, she's awesome value - blink and you might have missed it, but her Obama comment genuinely made me chuckle: “eee was also fifteeey thees year, eee celebrated ees birthday, but eee didn't call meeee. Eeeee must have been beeee-zeeee. *coy giggle*”. Go Nancy! (That was the only thing she said all night that I actually understood, mind.) I still think the latin next week will be a treat, apart from the inevitability of being forced to look upon the de Beke chest hair.

And then our Jason. Well. I wasn't sure that he'd make ladies of a certain age (33) feel the swoon again, but Jason Donovan is BACK BACK BACK. Take that Kylie! Take that Guy Pearce! Take that, um, the guy that used to play Joe Mangle! And the twins! (Oh and Alan 'Jim Robinson' Dale who did actually get cast in Ugly Betty and 24 AND married a beauty queen or something.) Anyway, excellent cha cha cha and excellent VT. Mulletwatch – CHECK. Especially For You – CHECK. Incredible long red coat of nineties hideousness on Top Of The Pops - CHECK CHECK CHECK. As I was saying to Marfany at the birthday drinks on Friday (and FYI I'm *still* a bit hungover - ergh), he has a very Australian approach to this – serious and competitive, which could be dislikeable, but he managed to look happy and relaxed on the dance floor. Go Team Kristina's Doner Van! Bring home the kebab!

Also, I love Kristina's big new fake hair. I SAID HAIR.

So now we have to wait another week for more. *WAAAH*. AND with no Claudia to ease us through the pain! *DOUBLE WAAAH*. Still, am hopeful that Zoe Ball on It Takes Two will be watchable and all will not be lost - though there was no need to style her all Single White Female with the Claudia fringe and baggy blouse on already. Zoe is blonde and twice Claudia's height, oh, and not overtly crackers, so we're not going to get confused.

And that is that, my friends. Just one thing left to say, innit. A-keeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep dancin'.

Series 9 - Week 1 - Part 1

Friday night? 9pm? It must be time for... well, Strictly Come Dancing 2011 apparently! (Even though it's not a weekend teatime in Britain with half of the nation chomping at the bit and stroking their thighs in anticipation of, well, a high profile karaoke show on the other channel.) Confession: I was out after work for a friend's birthday thing last night, fully intending to be home after one or two ciders to watch the show live. However... Well, those of you who know Becky Honeyman will fully understand why I failed to make it home until 2.30am.

Still, rejoice, rejoice, rejoice for the iPlayer. What a way to deal with a hangover!

And so we're off! Whoop!

Some observations on the opening 2011 credits:

1. James Jordan looks demonic.
2. They've made Holly Valance look like she has a double chin (!!!!)
3. Vinthent hasn't yet mastered his brave face.

Also, 4. Robin's wearing the best costume in the credits (the tightie whitie lycra tux with braces – clearly this year's poo suit), but that's of no surprise. What a man.

Actually whilst I'm on the costumes, let's just get Tess Dress Mess out the way as it's not so potent tonight - just an unflattering shapeless grape-coloured sack with some random cloth flaps hanging off it. Of course.

And so, let's meet the staaaaars of our show! Our new BFFs and potential money makers! Is it just me or is Brendan looking a little portly of belly? Robbie Savage is already demonstrating his likeablity (slim to nil) by getting one nipple out and Vinthent appears to be wearing velvet lounge pyjamas. What a wee trouper.

First up, Team Holtem. (Or Team Chigance. Or Team Valvintsev etc.) Artem, in a pale yellow bowling shirt, is rocking BOTH nipples out. Take that, Savage. I think I might quite like Valance (that awful misogynistic Fosters ad aside), mainly because she used the phrase “that boggled my marbles” in her VT. That boggled my marbles?!?!? What on earth does that even mean?! Len must be seriously pissed off he didn't think of that one first. (Indeed, it must boggle his marbles.)

I always forget how stiff, terrified and, well, a bit rubbish the celebs are when they start, though Valance acquitted herself damn well. She's got rhythm, looks rather gorge, and, like Felicity, she's bennnnnnnnnnnndy. Indeed, she was rewarded for her display of stretchiness by Bruno performing a stretchiness display of his own, as he cocked his leg totally vertically, aligning it with his own ear. We shouldn't be surprised. It *is* Bruno.

Next were Scary Katya and Dan Lobb-On, you know - the ITV Chris Hollins, which says it all really. (MIAOW! Mwahaha.) I find him a bit smugly annoying, I'm afraid - for starters, he needs to stop the effing running man gag (once was already once too many) and enough with the gurning and mugging to the camera already! However, I did rather like Lobb On on the dance floor, so if Katya can now terrify him into NOT TALKING MUCH, as well as dancing quite elegantly, we could well be ok - the Matt Baker shiny face sweats aside.

But why so much pale yellow on the costume front? *sigh* It would appear that custard baby sick is the themed colour this year. There's something about that colour that makes everything look like it's made of that horrible seventies throwback static nylon which offers zero temperature control and causes inevitable odour issues. Not good. Especially for, you know, dancing.

Third up... Well, poor Lulu – I believe the term is 'a hot mess'. At least she can take solace in the fact that, despite her resemblance to a lollipop (yegods, her head is just massive - crazily disproportionately large for her teeny teeny body), she has an amazingly youthfully crafted face, with incredible apples-for-cheekbones.

All I'll say about Lulu's 'dance' is 'GILF at a wedding' – and that it was perfect fodder for the judges, who totally made me 'lol'. We got everything you would expect – an array of Lulu impressions and Eurovision puns. (Probably best to get them all out the way at once, as I fear our Lulu won't last too long.)

I thought Natalie was going to cry before her and Audley's dance, then remembered that she's not programmed to show weakness. Her 'Get The Excuses In Early' chip was enabled though; “we've only had three days training and everyone else has had three weeks.” Whiney whine whine. Her other tactic seemed to be: let's not let Audley do much, which he, you know, did well enough. And it's true that he moves smoothly for a massive man mountain with size 17(!!!!) feet. But he's also, well, quite boring.

So, as you know, I missed the show as it was broadcast and watched the replay, but whilst it was on (and as more drinks kept appearing at the pub, courtesy, I believe, of fellow sweepstaker Louise Marfany), Abi texted me to say “Ola wearing nowt but a tassel!”. !!! And I was not disappointed when I saw that tassel – barely any material, yet still enough for tye-dye. Hola Ola. As for her partner, it's hard to judge Robbie Savage's dance potential yet, as the dance was light on content and high on man nipple and pouting. I'm not sure he's a natural but he did look like he had put the effort in to learn the moves and to try and do what Ola expected of him – though the woman would clearly stab him with a stilleto in the goolies if he didn't. Savage is clearly smarter than last year's Welsh sportsbeef Henson. But that's hardly praise, is it?

Penultimately, (so soon?!? The show just flew by!) Team Dobbin – LIKEABILITY OVERFLOW!!! I instinctively LURRRVE them. Cue VT: “This isn't something you see me doing every day” coos Robin, with a twinkle in his eye, as he lingeringly presses his giant hands over Anita's little lady boobs, as he sticks an L plate on her chest. HE'S MY FAVOURITE TIMES A BILLION. I fear Anita will struggle with the latin, but she did a truly lovely ballroom – so sweet and genuine and schmaltztastic (in a good way! Go figure!) that it completely melted my cynical waltz-hating heart. #sodthesweepstake #dobbinforthewin #sorryjason

Also melting my heart - my token-fat-comedy-celeb-hating heart - was Russell Grant. He's totally aces! What a flippin mover! To be honest, I didn't even look at Flavia and she was wearing a scarlet bum skimming ice-skating costume! No, well done to Team Flavell for a *very* enjoyable performance, which, let's not forget, started with Russell Grant COMING OUT OF A GIANT OYSTER SHELL. That my licence fee can happily go to. The next bit of my licence fee can go to whoever dug out the archive clip of him in the shiny glitter shirt and curly mullet - what eighties joy.

And after they were done, Strictly bingo cards at the ready, just before you thought it might be too late, Tess managed to get a bitch in: “that was certainly the campest cha cha Strictly's ever seen”. It's not even what she says, is it? It's the way she says it. A sneer behind the smile. Though I suppose we shouldn't forget that the poor dear was a) dressed in a sack and b) is married to Vernon Kaye – surely enough to bring out the worst in any of us.

So there we go! We're only halfway through our performances and it's already looking rather good! I'd just say that Craig R-H needs to perk up and unclench a bit – he looked furious throughout. But still mucho, mucho glitterball joy potential.

Tomorrow: Nancy Dell'Olio.