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.