Series 9 - Week 9

Farewell Anita, you were very lovely and it was sad to see you leave, but (small voice) it was probably your time to go.  You had a seriously enviable figure and looked amazingly youthful during the swingathon, so I'll keep that memory in mind.  Of course, it's super harsh for Robin “Tops” Windsor to leave the competition when he wasn't even there to dance in it, but that is how it goes, sadly.  Let’s all hope that Bobby’s hurty foot is better and that he'll be sporting some AMAZING string vests or polka dot waistcoats on our screens very very soon. (Brendan, if I'm honest, I can more or less cope with not seeing for a while...)

Now, I don’t know if it was Brendan who took on the choreography, but I was a little disappointed; it seemed to mainly consist of walking (albeit cha cha stylee) with a bit too much Messin' Abahht - all a bit Week 2 in terms of content.  I wonder whether Brendan has trouble accepting that the older woman can remember tricky steps (though perhaps Lulu and Jo Wood haven’t been the shiniest previous examples)? Anita has seemed to cope admirably with difficulty. in the past...  Perhaps Brendan should have pushed her a bit harder - though I get that it can't be easy having to suddenly dance with a new partner (for pro or celeb).  Anyway, hopefully Rentapro won't be needed again now, as it's not ideal for anyone.

As for Other Bottom Two-er (henceforth known as ‘the OBT’), it's clear that the viewers aren't engaging with Holly, for some reason – because her foxtrot was great.  I think it's the 'too laid back' thing, which has been the main thrust of her critiques for the past few hundred weeks, so I imagine people aren't sure whether she is giving it *whatever percent is being touted as the most appropriate amount of percent this week* (we must be up to at least 100050% by now).  But to me, Holly wasn't holding back this week and pulled out a very slinky performance in that scarlet dress, which must have set some gentlemanly pulses racing.  Fortunately Len's ticker was safe from over-excitement, as Holtem’s foxtrot had a bit too much thigh flash and sultry bum wiggle, which we know isn’t to his taste, whatever he might say about his mysterious funkateer past. (I'm imagining some rather groovy outfits in the sixties... tight polonecks and paisley trousers spring to mind, for some reason.  Best not to dwell.)

I also felt sorry for Alex – I was expecting compliments from the judges, but they kinda went for her (again).  I actually really enjoyed her charleston and thought she had completely mastered the right balance between quirk and gurn (to use the technical terms), though it's true that there was perhaps a little too much jelly-legged flailing.   My favourite bit was the lift where Alex was tossed over James' back and she suddenly popped out through James' upper thighs - like James had just given birth to a smiling adult female head.  Disturbing, yes, but FUNNY.  But anything goes in the charleston, right?  It is, after all, a dance where fake swimming is nigh on mandatory.

However, you could see the difference when you compared Alex's charleston to Jason’s, which was (biased *cough*) pretty fantastic, with its multitude of rubber-faced silent movie grimaces (and if Bruno says someone is Botox free, I believe him – he sat near Arlene for years, remember).  Indeed, I’d go so far as to say that Jason’s performance was looking like a multitude of tens before the timing of the kicks went awry.  (Argh!  Donovan!  You're killing me!)  It was gutting - I was really gunning for them, in spite of Jason's dubious white suit, and not just because of my precious pound, but for Kristina, so adorably keen to succeed, and not in a Natbot win or kill way.

Costume-wise, where did we stand on Kristina's hat?  Was she successfully channelling Jean Harlow Eyes and the spirit of the flappers?  Or looking more like she'd nicked one of 50 Cent's condom hats and gone mental with the glitter stick?

Chelsee also had a whole load of glitter going on – the glitter dandruff neck’n’shoulders look.  I actually found her mauve tango outfit really quite vile – a lycra polo neck dress was not a good look for our Chelsehh, especially with a Croydon facelift.  (Don’t take inspiration from Tess, Chels – you have diametrically opposed figures, and fashion is not her friend!)  However, Team Pashee’s AT was still fab – it could just have done with a little more tension, perhaps.  And HOW she couldn't muster up any Pasha-based lust is completely beyond me.  Is she not human?

I wasn't convinced by Robbie's outfit either – I'm not talking about the strip to his strip (badda boom – ching!), which was quite amoosing, but by the satin ribbon running vertically down his chiffon shirt, where the buttons/button holes go, and which goes beyond his waistline, and...  well it's hard to explain, but look it up (especially when the celebs first arrive down the stairs), and you'll see that basically the overall effect is to draw maximum attention to his penis.  (Gav: “there might as well be an arrow there.”)  Fortunately Ola's costume was more subtle (ha!) – again with the bikini top, with a good old fashioned mullet skirt.  I really liked her get-up in fact – I love a big sequin.  Robbie clearly also likes a big sequin, as he ended up (accidentally?) honking Ola’s boob during the dance and she had to gently lower his hand to her midriff. (Check 1.22 – you can hear the audience having a right old giggle.  (Well done, eagle eyes Gav and Abi for both spotting that one.)

So, I think there’s a clear favourite in town now, no?  Congrats to Harry for dropping only one little point through the whole show.  It must be said that his quickstep was incredibly good and the tens were well deserved.  We have a theory in the Strictly Cad house - the redder Aliona's hair, the more personable she is, and the less Aliona-centric and crazeballs her choreography.  She's clearly super grumpy without her hair dye – so someone give that girl an endorsement and a lifetime supply of crimson hair dye, ideally something super cheesy like Rumba Red, Salsa Scarlet or Cha Cha Cherry.  Though no doubt, she want to call it something subtle like ‘Aliona’s Hair Is The Best’ or similar.

And finally, the Swingathon.  Well, it was alright – fun and messy, as ever.  (Also, a good insight into Strictly homo-eroticism, as James and Brendan enthusiastically agreed to double-team.)  The best thing in the swingathon was the Alex and James aeroplane spin lift, which we saw on multiple occasions, and Ola's hilarious petulant strop as she and Robbie were kicked off.  My, how the Len's Lens slo-mo of that made me chuckle.

You may think we’re nearly done with this week’s blog, but I’ve got rather a lot of costume nonsense to bang on about actually.  Firstly, let's be honest - whatever my reservations, Aliona's dress was GERT LUSH, as us Bristolians say.  TOTAL COVET.

Indeed there were quite a few excellent Saturday dresses this week: Anita's glitterbug, Holly's scarlet, Alex's fringed mint...  All of which served to highlight the ill-advised number Tess had gone for on Saturday, which left me TessDressMessPerplexed – why was her bosom due South again?  ARGH!  What have you done with your good bra, Tess?!!!  The Twitter consensus on Tess’ outfit was fairly overwhelming: “AWFUL”.  Our very own sweepstaker Vix suggested it was “a cross between wonder woman and rainbow bright and somehow makes her look the size of a house.” (With THREE exclamation marks, to hammer home the point.)  It's true that the dress was unforgiving – a return to the droopy boob situation (perhaps that new and improved bra was in the wash) and a discernible tummy shadow - on a woman who I'm fairly sure has a pretty flat stomach (or at least some working spanx).     While I had no major conceptual problem with the shape of the dress, and thought the fuchsia and navy colours were potentially great on her (we'll gloss over the weird gold belt), I agree that it just didn't work, especially with that hideous all-to-one-side hairdo, and that stupid long dangling earring - how very Hen Weekend in Tack City.

Also, Tess was totally slouching, which did nothing to help.  Has her posture always been so poor?   However, as harsh as it is to blame the wearer, rather than the dress, I wonder if Alesha had been wearing it, whether the comments would have been so, um, 'concerned'.  (Discuss.)  Sunday's TessDress was LessMess – provided you subscribe to the school of thought known as ‘There Can Never Be Too Much Glitter’.  (And who doesn’t?)

A few more notes on Sunday's other outfits: Cee-Lo Green's dancers' mirrored cut out catsuits were quite something – Ola must have been taking some serious notes backstage. (My guess is we'll see her in one before Christmas.)  And Cee Lo himself - a larger man, you’ll note - wore a peach satin tracksuit; to quote Alesha, "Cee-Lo Green, I commend you". (That's Alesha's way of making it seem like there's a positive in amongst a stinking sea of total dross, right?)  Less commendable were the outfits Nat and Kat wore in their Rolling In The Deep pro-dance (the look being 'sexy-smoking-jacket’ meets ‘slashed-to-the-navel’ meets ‘bras-on-show-ladies’), but the dance itself was utterly brilliant – one of the best pro-dances I've seen in a while.  (And Natalie was in it, so that is saying summat.)  Now then, can they do it again next week wearing monochrome versions of Aliona’s dress, please?

Probably not, as next week is Movie Week – yup, it's Theme Time Radio Hour again (NB: that not hugely hilarious reference will only make sense to fans of Strictly and Bob Dylan – a small, but not insignificant group, I’d wager).  Lots of ‘comedy’ to look forward to then.  Talking of, did you see the hilarious/awkward Chelsee/Shrek moment?  Go to 11.10 – and note especially Claudia’s face at 11.34 – AMAZING.)  Is it wrong that I'm quite looking forward to another theme week?  It could be fun!   Just me then?  Ahem.  Let's just keeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep hoping.

Series 9 - Week 8

I know Russell's gone – and we will dwell on the sadness that that brings later – but we need to address the most important issue first.

The zebra trousers.

As worn by Robin.

And Anton.

I can barely breathe.

This has serious consequences regarding my Top 5 Strictly trousers. SERIOUS consequences.

If Ian had been wearing them, it would have been a clear new entry at number 1. As things stand, I'm going joint first. I just can't choose between zebra and red.

Whilst we're on costumes, God knows what happened with Tess's original Saturday outfit, as she can't have actually chosen that blue 'dress' (I use that description loosely) as a first choice – it screamed 'OH MY GOD WE NEED AN EMERGENCY OUTFIT WE'LL JUST HAVE TO WRAP HER IN SATIN CLOTH' like nothing before. Clearly someone sabotaged her first dress (Nancy?), or – worse – Tess had gone back to picking her own clothes, and gone for something TRULY unwearable - and it was starting to look like she'd have to do the show in her pants. I can hear the Wardrobe Mistress now “Oh shit! She can't wear that. You, go, find the first haberdashery in Wembley, get a couple of metres of the cheapest shiny cloth, and we'll just wrap it round her, sure it'll be rubbish, but it will still be an improvement. You, fetch me the staple gun.” TessDressStress. Sunday's red lace was much better – not 100% to my taste, but she wore it well and scarlet looks nice on her.

And now, a moment of respectful silence please. For the passing of Mr Russell Grant from Strictly Come Dancing 2011. *sigh* Russell was simply the best 'comedy' dancer we have seen to date, and the first one that I didn't want out yet. The key, I think, is that we were laughing with Russell, never at him. He got the joke – knew that it was all about performance and was always wonderful to watch - a camp little rotund man with energy, rhythm, spark and bags of charm. I'm going to miss him. As I'm sure Abi will miss her £1.

But at least he went out with a bang – CAUSE HE WAS FIRED FROM A CANNON, YOU SEEEEEEEEEEE. Actually, the cannon went well beyond my expectations – it was brilliant. His little face! (The joyfully surprised toddler look.) The glittery helmet at a jaunty angle! (Possibly just too big for his head.) The yellow satin shirt! (Worn with panache.) All while balanced on a tea tray, several miles up. Excellent work, as ever. Huge congrats to Flavia Cacace, who knew exactly how to choreograph to Russell's strength, like the akimbo handstand with Russell peeking through her legs - “the first and only time he'll be between thighs like that” quoth Gavin. (I'm stealing a whole bunch of Gav AKA Mr Cad quotes this week – he was way funnier than me during the show. Bastard.)

Bye bye Russell. You will be missed.

The other bottom two-er was also a surprise – Valance. I suspect her hideous outfit played a part; as Gav said “she looks like an oompa loompa on the set of Mad Man”. Again they gave her that heinous Essex tan colour (an entire top this time - eww), matched with a snot green skirt (of rather excellent swishing proportions which I'll admit would covet in another colour). I just think someone in wardrobe must hate her, but, frankly, Holly's too skool cool to care - she just wears what she's given anyway, and actually looks all the more beautiful, as the awfulness of the outfit highlights the quality of her facial features.

In other news, Artem's sex injury is gone.

And so, what did we think about Wembley? Well, it was, you know, BIG – so cue lots of frantic running and slightly messy dance moves. Ola got the choreography right though – sod doing an actual salsa, we're going stadium, and matched a Robbie Williams soundtrack with a Robbie Savage strut. Their performance consisted of waving at the crowd, jumping up and down A LOT, with a bit of very impressive Ola-throwing, er, thrown in. (Gavin: “it wasn't a salsa, but it was a tasty dip of some sort.”) Costume-wise, Ola's got her groove back – last week was bikini inspired and this week it's the trademark – the Lace Catsuit: Version Blue Point 0. Also, the biggest perm Wembley has ever seen – and that includes all of Bon Jovi.

Tell you what else Wembley saw – at least six pairs of nipples. It was Man Nip City! Jeez! I couldn't possibly pick my favourite, but hurrah to see Robin back in his natural state – a hot pink silk shirt, with sequinned shoulder detail, no buttons, and utterly pecalicious. It's amazing to think that he had a (very) hurty foot, and has been banned from dancing this week, because his samba bounce was incredible and a masterclass on how it should be done. Sadly, however, it showed that Anita didn't quite have it. I still love Anita, but I'm not sold on her dancing. And it will be interesting to see how I react to her partnership with Brendan, as my bias for Fun Bobby might well have been what I've been gunning for these last few weeks...

Nipples on show for Harry too – against his will to a degree, as a (no doubt jealous) Brendan ripped the shirt from his back in the Tesspit (pec fans were shocked and very much not appalled.) Indeed it's worth going back to the iPlayer (around 00.44.10) not just to see Harry's chest, but to check out a man in the front row, who, when Bruce asked “Wembley, would you like to see Harry with his shirt open?!” didn't respond to the question out loud - but you could tell that inside he was VERY MUCH saying YES PLEASE YES.

Harriona's dance itself was fantastic – points points points for the Eurovision-inspired mid-dance striptease, as Aliona span, and Harry unravelled several metres of red chiffon (Gavin: “ah yes, the reverse Andrex puppy”), and kudos kudos kudos for the lifts – especially the one where Aliona went over Harry's head and landed in the splits between his legs. Wowsers. When Aliona's quirkiness works, it's awesome – and the last two weeks have worked. Harry really is looking like the favourite man celeb right now.

And that's harsh for Jason – he has the attitude and the dedication and seems to be able to deliver the technique, but he doesn't have the same natural effortlessness that the young'uns do. It didn't help that he went wrong in his jive, but I was impressed by his swift recovery. Still, the judges lavished on the praise about the jiving itself, so if he gets through a routine mistake-free, we could be looking at a shower of tens. I think he needs the high scores to stay safe (remember, it's my £1 you're representing Donovan!), as while he's popular, I'm not sure the TV audience have engaged with him as much as, say, Alex Jones, who no-one really expected to like, but has turned out to be hilarious, and is improving greatly - nipping at Jason's heels.

Indeed, Alex topped the leaderboard this week, so she not only nipped the Donovan heels, but ate his whole foot and still had room for dessert (or whatever tortured metaphor might work in this context). I rated her tango face especially, although I think the choreography was slightly swallowed by Wembley. James Jordan wore particularly tight trousers – so after seeing Ola in her catsuit, we now pretty much know how both Jordans look naked. Mmmkay.

However, it was Pasha who got my heart rate going - in a garland and shades in the pre-dance VT. Scuse me while I sit down a while. Chelsee continues to seriously impress – her solo work was particularly good. Alesha commented on her “natural samba bounce” and it's true that she has the bounce, I'm just not sure it's entirely natural... She rocked the Geri dress though, and was demure enough to avoid flashing red knickers Halliwell-style. Instead they stapled the Dell'Olio boa to her bottom – a good look. Chelsee's still the one to watch, I think. Am looking forward to seeing how she handles an Argentine Tango.

And so that was Wembley – very enjoyable, although there was WAY too much Bruce. Goodness me – enough! The Best Of British theme was also a bit forced – the Sunday's sixties group dance was a little weird. But it's always dangerous (and by 'dangerous' I mean 'an error') to include the celebs, though Russell, Harry, Jason and Robbie as The Ballroom Beatles was worth the inclusion. Russell (missing you already) was Paul McCartney or “Flavia's sister” - as he himself said, which was FUNNY. (Although I notice Flavs had changed her Dwayne Dibbley hair this week.) Also Russell suited his wig better than Anita suited her rather severe hairpiece which made her look a little... draggy. (Sorry A.)

Still, the hot sixties dance mess was better than Jessie J and James Morrison singing a dirge to NO PROFESSIONAL DANCERS. What's the point? It's just filler without any dancing in it. I'd have even preferred an Anton rumba. (I lie, of course, there is NO situation in which I would prefer an Anton rumba.) And then we had to suffer Il Divo and their lady choir. In fact Il Divo actually make me chuckle - I bloody love the ridiculousness of their on-stage pomposity and the fact that the BBC clearly had to wait until they were doing Strictly in an full on arena before inviting them on, else there wouldn't have been enough room for Il Divo and their egos.  I also especially like that they look the epitome of their own national stereotype – no-one looks more Spanish than the Spanish Divo, no-one looks more Swiss than the Swiss Divo, and so on with the French and American Divos.   Incredible.   And as sexless as Ken dolls.

And next week is, well, NOW – Week 9 in less than a hour. The excitement!!! So all that remains for me to say is, keeeeeeeeeeeeeeep sitting on the sofa waiting for the show to start. Can't wait!

Series 9 - Week 7

Now then, cast your minds back.  Back to before Wembley, and a time when your ears weren't ringing from mass arena-based screaming and a yellow clad Russell Grant hadn't been fired out of a cannon (and out of the contest *sniffsniffsniff* - more on that later, viewers).  For now, let us go back to a time when we (finally) said goodbye to Audley Entertaining and Natalie 'Natbot' Lowe – to the surprise of precisely no-one.  Natbot knew the time had come – it looked like she'd had her face botoxed to oblivion, to hide any rage at not winning – or perhaps it was time for a fresh new fembot skin service. But Lowe (geddit?!? Like ‘Lo!’ - oh yessss, kerching, did you miss me?!), the exit was inevitable. To be honest, Natbot, I didn't loathe you this series, so let's call that progress!  And I liked Audley Entertaining and his casual wedding guest dance style – he might have lumbered a little (did you know he has size five hundred feet and is seventeen miles tall?), but he always looked like he was having an excellent time of it.  (And he was sooooo sweet to his clearly devastated fellow bottom-two-er, Anita.)  But all such things must end, and so, adios Audley, and Marf's quid.

Anita in the Bottom Two did seem surprising, but Justine and I were discussing Anita the other day, and although we really like her when she’s being interviewed, but we're less and less sold on her dancing.  I think she looks a bit crazed and pointy (apart from her toes, the one, well, two things that should be - oh the irony).  Having said that, the judges always praise her, which suggests her technique is strong (or she's being lined up for the tour).  Also, she is still LOVELY, dancing with Robin (who is also LOVELY) and she handled Bruce's super rude age joke about her very well (using the tried and tested technique of 'politely ignoring'.)

As for LOVELY Robin, he was happily a little more naked than he has been in previous weeks – I'd estimate that at least the top seven buttons of his purple silky shirt were undone, so we got some saucy pec glimpse. You tease, Bobby!  Teasing was the order of the day, in fact - he even went so far as to actually faux-strip in the VT.  (Shame on you BBC for not allowing us to see Robin in his pants.)  He also wore a red hat and braces – but of course.  Inspirational.

Also back to her more naked usual self – Ola! Channelling the elegance and sophistication of the American Smooth in a long silk skirt and mint bikini top.  I’d just like to include a ‘let’s big-up Ola’ interlude here: I used to really dislike her, thinking she was a pouty sullen little madam, and then along came Chris Hollins and bam – we saw the light!  We met hilarious sarky Olachops and learned to appreciate her impeccable comedy timing and her Polish-Essex hybrid accent. *Ola iz great interlude ends*.  As for her dance partner, well Robbie turned in a passable but forgettable ballroom performance.  He's better when he gets to thrust.

Like Ola, Alex Jones has also unexpectedly won me round with her comedic talents (whether they’re conscious or not).  As for the dance, well she and James and a sinister Jamesalike rag doll (too disturbing to discuss in any further detail) did a lively, messy jive, dressed as cheerleaders.  To be honest I'm a little sad that they didn’t a) use pompoms, b) dress James up as a quarterback and c) spell out any words using their pants.

Some TRUE FACTS about cheerleading:
TRUE FACT #1: George W. Bush was a cheerleader. (I'm not sure how he coped with the spelling, pants or no pants.)
TRUE FACT #2: The best cheerleading film is Bring It On, and is a cinematic masterpiece.
TRUE FACT #3: There are four (YES FOUR) sequels to Bring It On. My sister owns them all.

Another TRUE FACT was that Harry turned in the finest performance.  (Of course by 'true fact' I mean 'in my entirely subjective opinion'.)  And although I still think they should reserve the Argentine Tango for the semi finals, to conserve a sense of reward and drama, I did think this was the first dance to (arguably) deserve 10s.  It started out a little on the slutty side (a slutty Aliona choreography? Shocking!), but then Aliona reigned it in, and they got the smoulder-slutty balance about right – whatever Len's pickled walnuts might have thought about it being lacking in tension (jet-lagged indeed).  I've always thought it was quite hard for blondes to pull off a tango, but it's clear to me that it's even harder for whatever-colour-hair-Aliona-has.  How to describe it?  It's the colour of a brand new 2p, but not shiny...  Like a faded bottle red where the dry shampoo hasn't quite been rubbed in properly...  A kind of mushed up autumn leaf on the pavement colour...  Anyway, am sure it's hugely popular in the sample hair colour catalogue.  (I've never really been a hair-dyer - do they still have those fake curls in books to show the different colours, or did that go out in the eighties?)

By the way, is it just me, or is it weird that the non-Harry members of McFly no longer look like teenagers, but sort of still do...?  They are now tattooed man-boys and it disturbs me.

Talking of popstars who look a confusing indeterminate age, KYLIE!  *Message from Kylie alert!* *Message from Kylie alert!* Actually, I thought it was quite mean to feature her in Jason's pre-dance VT and get her to purr about how much she enjoyed shagging him 23 years ago (subtext: I am now a global superstar and you are ballroom dancing at teatime, but you were cute with that mullet).  Firstly, I'm fairly sure that seeing your ex just before you're about to perform would put you off a bit, and secondly, we were then all too busy remembering how they used to be at it, to focus on the waltz.  Though perhaps that was a canny move – waltzes are generally dull, aren't they?  Even the foreign spinny kind.  But, Jason did well – considering all that.  Well done Team Doner Van – keep ‘em coming.  I'm still confident that my pound might blosson into £14...

(Also, just to terrify you a little and put those 23 years into perspective - Kylie and Jason's lurve making is old enough for them to have genuinely been Chelsee’s parents.  Make of that what you will. 

Our Chelsehh – still adorable, still can't help starring at her boobs.  Nice enough foxtrot and it was the pro that did the faffing abaaht this week; I did like the very persuasive fake piano playing from Pasha – at first I thought he might actually have been playing, but the giveaway was the piano melody carrying on after he'd stepped away from the grand.  I don't really remember the dance as I was too busy cringing at the (usually excellent) singers' atrocious tuning.  Dave Arch will need to have words.

Oh and Strictly bingo cards out – a long overdue bitchswipe from Tess to Chelsee. “Sophisticated – ever been called that before?” Textbook smackdown – la Daly's back in the zone.

Artem's sex injury was still playing up, so in stepped Brendan (even though we all know that Ian Waite should always be the official stand in pro.  Or Brian!  Oh Brian.  I miss him, with his all-American you-betcha attitude and Thunderbird monobrow.  Still, let us all be mightily relieved that Anton wasn't asked to rumba with Holly - vomvomvom).

But what was Holly wearing (again)?  They seemed to have stapled a pink sheet to an ice-skating leotard and given her Essex skin-tone flesh-coloured tights – so her arms were about fifteen shades lighter than her legs.  And besides even if she weren't suffering the paleness of an English autumn, she wouldn't tan orange - she's Australian!  Anyway, she did pretty well for a rumba – I didn't have to turn away from the screen in embarrassment many times at all!

And then there was Russell.  Oh Russell.  It's important to savour every Russell moment now, of course *sigh*.  Wise Flavia knows that if it ain't broke, there's no need to fix it – so she opted for an American Smooth to one of the very few songs that would challenge I Will Survive in a camp-off.  (The other contender is, of course, Never Been To Me by Charlene, which would have been PERFECT for a Russell rumba - *WEEPS!*  #bestthingswewillneversee

(Actually while I’m on the subject of amazing camp songs, my personal favourites - which I guarantee will make you instantly happy - are: Dance Magic Dance and the wholly underrated country tune ‘What’s Good For The Goose’ by Dottie West.  I will forever be indebted to my friend Owen Duff for introducing me to that one.  Amazing.  Robin to solo line-dance to it in cowboy hat and glitter chaps, please.)

Anyway, back to Russell – once again, out he went and although it was never going to be as great as the polka dot paso, he offered up joyful arm flailing, multiple star jumps, glittery guyliner and a costume change, so I will take that very happily.  Yes indeed, Russell issss what he isssssss, and what he issssss, issssss... apparently a gold lamé suit.

Talking of costume changes (wishful thinking), Saturday Week 7 saw TessDressMess looking a vision in pea green sequins (so not her colour) and sporting an unfortunate belt situation which caused unsightly bulging in her lady area.  Shame.  I did quite like her Sunday white dress though – even though the front panel seemed to be made from an Ikea sofa throw.  And STOPTHEPRESS, I genuinely liked Tess' HAIR on Sunday!  Yes, that loose side pony tail! Who'd have thunk it?!  Elsewhere (well, behind the judges' desk) Alesha wore what looked like an odd but innocuous frill round her chest, and it wasn't until she stood up that you realised that the dress was ridge overload – like a starchy white Christmas tree.  Gulp.  On the plus side, Alesha has the most amazing shiny hair – vinyl Timotei.

I'm still not sure about Flavia's hair – she's clearly GORGEOUS, but (and forgive me if I've said this before) but this season’s haircut makes her look a bit like, well, Dwayne Dibbley.  A stunningly pretty, lovely, cute, professional lady dancing Dwayne Dibbley, but...  Dwayne Dibbley nonetheless. (Or in Gavin’s opinion, Victoria Wood.)  I'm not sure that Flavs was helped by the white sailor/pussy bow crop top in Sunday's Andrews Sisters-inspired pro dance.  However that dance was one of my pro favourites so far - partly as it involved Pasha literally (literally!) jumping over Ms Cacace. (I know she's dinky, but still!)  And it was nice to see little Vinthent out and about, in a shiny nylon white shirt – though he’s still not quite his irrepressible Italian Pony self, is he?  I still think he's faintly traumatised after his time with Edwina Curry Puns (she drove him jalfrezi).  I so miss his VTs - if anyone can dig out clips of him describing Rachel Stevens as “shaking like a leaflet” or the time that he fell backwards off the chair, I will be eternally grateful.

Also good: pro dance #2 - Jar of Hearts lady – piano covered in tea lights - Robin and Kristina – lots of throwing - lovely.  And while I'm feeling happy and generous, I won't slate what could have been excruciating – the ultimate men of gurn’n’cringe: Anton du Bek and André Rieu (looking like a fatter James May in a tux with a fiddle).  I actually found the whole thing hilarious – Anton all but ignoring Erin and performing a number of show-off high leg kicks and spins, in front of a full blown orchestra of Marie Antoinettes astride cellos, apart from a Swiss male brass section (women playing trombones! Imagine! Whatever next – the vote?!) and a lone percussionist stuck on the balcony having to wait pretty much the whole of the song before he finally got to spend a few bars having a go on his timpani.  (Not a euphemism.)

And next week Wembley!  (Except, of course, that Wembley's already happened and we know how that panned out – but more of that in the next few days, for the iPlayer is a friend indeed, so I'll get my Week 8 blog on soon.  I've already seen the first five minutes and yegods!  SEQUINED ZEBRA PRINT TROUSERS!!!!!  Things are looking interesting...)

Keeeeeeep keep toot toot.

Series 9 - Week 6

So, traditionally I open up with a tried and tested formula of wishing goodbye to [insert losing couple here]. Followed by: [insightful analysis of dance ability] + [opinion on fairness of departure]. HOWEVER, this week, I'm dispensing with convention, because, frankly, first and foremost, we need to talk about J-Grey.

WHAT WAS THAT?!

SERIOUSLY, WHAT WAS THAT?!!

No, but REALLY?

WHAT WAS THAT?

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(I could go on like this for some time.)

Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine Jennifer Grey would be such a terrible, terrible judge. I tried to approach her appearance with an open mind (I said *tried*) and after her mini-interview on It Takes Two, I even thought she seemed sweet and chatty enough, which is a pre-requisite of sorts, but then the live show hit and no. No no no. Of all the things the Strictly producers have done, this was probably the greatest waste of time and licence fee.

For starters, *deep breath* (cause you KNOW I'm about to go on at length) J-Grey is NOT EVEN THAT FAMOUS - and yet that seemed play a big part in the sycophancy surrounding her attendance. Oh pleeeeeeease, American person who's been in films and on the telly in America, pleeeeeeeeeeeeease come and be on our lowly little British dance show, even though you'll make it a whole lot more RUBBISH. BAH! The fame test is simple – will my dad have heard of Jennifer Grey? Answer: no, my dad has not heard of Jennifer Grey. Ergo, NOT THAT FAMOUS.

In fact, let's examine her career, shall we? Her most recent claim to fame? Winning the American Strictly (hmmmm, a former celeb winner on the panel, let's see, what's the previous success rate on that?). And her past glories? A nose job, a supporting part in the excellent Ferris Bueller (in which, I'll admit, she was ace) and, of course, a quality turn as water-melon-carrying Baby in Dirty Dancing, which YES, is a film about dancing, but, as I remember, the whole point of her character was that SHE WASN'T A PROFESSIONAL DANCER. SURELY, this suggests she might not be best qualified to COMMENT ON DANCE.

And what else has she done? Go on, tell me without recourse to Wikipedia or IMDB? *waits* EXACTLY. NOT THAT FAMOUS.

Look, J-Grey seems nice (really nice), so I don't want this to seem personal, but there were just so many reasons why she had no place on that panel.

1. Inadequate ballroom CV. (We've just discussed credentials. I don't propose to revisit that element.)

2. Distinct lack of critical analysis, even constructive criticism. (I imagine it probably is quite hard to be mean to someone's face – hide behind a blog, say I - but surely critiquing is the whole purpose of a judge? Even Alesha manages it these days.) 

3. Inappropriate and CONSTANT use of the 8 paddle. (8 FOR LULU?!? Cereals?! Was J-Grey hoping flattery would get her better botox connections...?)

4. Inappropriate and inconstant use of the 7 paddle. (8 for Lulu, yet only 7 FOR RUSSELL? There aren't enough exclamation marks. That paso was a TRIUMPH!)

5. Overt reliance on pre-scripted comments (yes, am sure all the judges jot down a good line or two – Len's pickled walnuts, for example - but you don't show it! Though whoever wrote them – I'd imagine it wasn't J-Grey - kudos on the 'Audley entertaining' pun).

6. Truly appalling delivery. (Errr, once more with feeling, Jennifer? Just awful. If they'd known she was going to blatantly just read it all, couldn't they have given her an autocue? Hell, she's an ACTRESS – couldn't she have learnt the lines in advance, seeing as she was going to use them whether they bore any reflection to the performance or not...)

7. The waste. Oh dear God the waste. Just think - it could have been Karen Hardy on that panel. YES, KAREN HARDY. IMAGINE! Sure, they'd locked her in the red button broom cabinet with Martin Offiah, but they could have let her out for once. Or they could have Camilla on, or Ian Waite, or Lilia, or flippin' Arlene, or (God help us) Darcey 'sexy pahhty' Bussell. Or EVEN (and I do NOT say this lightly) BLOODY ANTON.

YES. EVEN ANTON WOULD HAVE BEEN BETTER.

*stunned silence*

You know it's true. Even though I feel dirty (dancing) for having said it.

Anyway. I think I've said enough. Rant over. (I did love her earrings though. And her turn and wink on Jen's Lens – that was funny. But as a judge - TERRIBLE.)

And to business: bye bye Lulu. You weren't really very good at ballroom dancing and hadn't really improved much since week 1, but we did all marvel at your youthful face every week. You bravely wore those hideous purple culottes (seriously, why not make them a skirt?) to tango, and did your best, but you knew it was your time... I think that's why she did her trademark 'WWWWEEEEELLLLLLL' when she was interviewed in the Tesspit - playing her joker as a last ditch attempt to garner some votes. I don't blame her, but there's only so much Brendan-led shunting we can take (one week more than Anton-led shunting apparently) and so off Lulu goes, with not even Jason Orange to comfort her, as he's now going out with Catherine Tate apparently.

It's my mum who had Lulu in the sweepstake, and she won't miss her £1, as she hasn't actually given me any money yet. (I can't really complain, I haven't exactly been short-changed by my parents over the years.)

As for Audley Entertaining, as he will henceforth be known, I think he's probably survived his last Bottom Two, and I suspect he'll be out next week (which is a fair few more weeks longer than I was first expecting). Although you never know - we haven't had a shock exit yet... I love that he looks so happy on the dance floor, but favourite thing about Audalie's performance this week was the ridiculous bridge prop, wheeled in purely and simply to illustrate the first lyric of the Avril Levigne song they were dancing to; as Dave Arch and his wonderful orchestra sang “I'm standing on a BRIDGE”, Natbot LITERALLY stood on a bridge. Amazing work.

Slightly less amazing work from the two front running males, however. Harry v Jason. Samba v rumba. Both notoriously difficult dances, especially for a male celeb, as they have to avoid making mince of all that hip action, and look manly whilst undulating and pouting. I'll be honest, Jason struggled. BUT it was a RUMBA! It's PDA in dance form! The best bit was actually Kristina's face afterwards - she looked like she was going to kill all four of the judges and the only thing stopping her was that she couldn't decide which judge to go for first.

So I think Harry won it this week with his man-samba, which wasn't fab-u-lous, but was good enough. Again though, my favourite bit was female-pro's-face-at-panel - I chuckled heartily at Aliona's barely concealed fury that everyone was commenting on Harry and his chiffon-covered nipples, even though the concept of her samba was supposed to be 'Look At Sexy Aliona As She Shimmies Around Her Male Celeb'. Mind you, that is the concept of all her dances.

Aliona had better get used to being second fiddle in the flesh stakes (that sounded a bit dodgier than I intended), especially now that Robin is obviously lending out his favourite tops to Harry – I only pray Robin gets the yellow feather waistcoat back for when he and Anita do their samba. Not that I'm complaining about Dobbin's Charleston costumes – yes, Robin's shiny pinky shirt had limited pecs appeal, but frankly that dance was all about Anita's backless flapper dress. Wowsers. Basically I want one and I want it now. NOW. NOW NOW NOW NOW NOW TODDLER TANTRUM LEVELS OF NOW. Just gorgeous.

Also gorgeous (and also to be made immediately available for the Strictlycad wardrobe please), Alex's peacock blue dress with mustard underskirt. Loved it. Best swishy skirt of the series, even if it did catch her heel. If I had been wearing that dress, I'd have been all 'sod the quickstep James, I'm just going to run into the middle of that dance floor and spin around in a circle for 90 seconds, squealing “look at my dress swish – weeeeeeeeeeeeeeee”'. I actually think the judges were also distracted by skirt swish – they were very kind to Alex. It was a sweet enough performance, but I'm fairly sure there was gapping (CHECK OUT MY TECHNICAL KNOW HOW), a smattering of stumbles, and – oh yes - they fell over at the end. They still worked it though.

I thought Ola and Robbie also worked their waltz well enough – sure, it was boring, but waltzes ARE boring. (Walzes are boring, rumbas are embarrassing, pasos are AWESOME. That is the rule.) It was nothing special and nothing terrible, though I'm enjoying Robbie's indignation on Twitter about Craig giving them a 6 – errr, hardly controversial. As for Ola's Barbie ballgown (stolen from an actual Barbie), well for the avoidance of doubt, I'm happy with just Anita and Alex's dress and will pass on Ola's outfit this week. I'm not four.

Four year olds will certainly agree with me on the dance of the night, though - Russell's paso. AWESOME. If I have one criticism, it's that the NHS specs were unnecessary. Beyond that I have nothing to add. It speaks for itself. Up there with the Sergeant. Hell, BETTER than the Sergeant.

A tough act, then, for our Chelsehh to follow, especially after her confidence took a knock after her “wardrobe male-founk-shon”, as she so sweetly put it. But she was aces. Even though she's always been good at dance, Chelsee's turning out to be the one with the jourrrrney, as her makeunderisation continues and middle England picks up the Daily Mail with a little less vitriol, happy with her smoother acrylic hair and her boobs neatly tucked away (we all noticed Chelsee's higher neckline this week, right – talk about the elephant in the room).

It was actually Holly who suffered a wardrobe male-founk-shon, as one of her braces popped off. Not that it phased her – I don't think anything would. Too cool – which is almost a problem. I wasn't out and out wowed by their jive, but it was good and funky. Though I was impressed by Artem's pain threshold – he looked in serious pain on the Sunday show. (Another year, another sex injury?) I'm just not sure whether to be a little relieved or a little sad that their matching costumes were basically the same and that they didn't try to 'feminise' Holly's version with a puffball pinstipe mini-skirt or a red bra under her jacket. Obviously that would have been tacky as hell, but... Well you can decide if that would have been a good or a bad thing.

Talking of terrible outfits, La Daly... Another Saturday, another bout of TessDressMess – it was the flesh eating lacy sleeves that pushed me over the edge. And now she's found a bra that fits, it's the dress that doesn't - there's nothing wrong with going up a size, Tess! (It will, ironically, make you look slimmer.) Sunday's offering was a navy velvet mini dress with long studded arms and a slightly droopy décolletage, which speaks for itself really. Alesha wore a boob revealing, canary yellow, halter neck creation with crazy flowers attached to her neck. It was universally judged to be vile. I liked it. Moving on...

As for Sunday half-time 'entertainment' – I use that word VERY loosely – well, just when having suffered Westlife felt like torture enough, on came Bruce to sing. Awful. Fortunately Erin also came on wearing Chelsee's usual hair and all the Strictly boas, which distracted us nicely. The boys v. girls pro dance was business as usual – the girls went for gyrations in chiffon and the boys for sexy grimaces in shiny trousers – an error, boys, homoerotism is ALWAYS the way. Bare chests and moustaches next time, please.

Am now off on holiday, so will be missing TWO Strictly weekends in a row – unbelievable really. (I'm having second thoughts, frankly.) I'll no doubt blog them both up when I'm back, but in the meantime, please look out for Jason - he's vulnerable after rumba trauma. He's worth a £13 profit to me, so it's very important.  I know I can trust you.  Keeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep yadda yadda.