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.