2012 Christmas Special

Well, perhaps it was the effects of being well fed and watered (i.e.; nicely sozzled), but I bloody loved the Strictly Christmas special, which I probably found more joyful than the whole series past.  There seemed to be a real energy to proceedings, with all the celebs really making an effort, but without the secretly competitive edge that seemed to seep into this year's proceedings.   I was also watching it with Mr Cad's Aberdonian 89 year old Granma, who found it equally delightful – even if we have slightly opposing views of Bruce (sample quote: “He's mad, him!”, whilst chuckling) and Anton (“I really wish he would win, I really do. He's been on forever”).  On the other hand, she nailed Bruno in one perfect sentence: “Here he goes again with his arms.”

Actually, I really must have been drunk, as I found the judges' opening am dram skit lol-ing hil-a-rious – there was nothing original or clever about setting the scene at Len's turkey dinner, with all the judges in their Sarah Lund Christmas jumpers, but it still made me chuckle, particularly Darcey taking the piss out of her bea-YEW-tiful necklace, YAH.  

Bruce was also perfectly cast as the uninvited guest (in a random Dickensian cape) showing off his trademark lady-letching and mild homophobia, denied by Tess and Darcey under the mistletoe, but looking disgusted by the Bruno cheek-peck he got, dramatically wiping at his cheek and shouting "get me bleach and savlon" (I may exaggerate), while Bruno celebrated by doing an I'm Still Standing spin (only not in body paint and pants this time).  

And even lovely Claudia had a cameo, briefly waking up from a booze-fueled nap, only to decide to return to sleep again – which I imagine to be a highly accurate representation of her actual Christmas Day.

TipsyCad wasn't alone in having had a few glasses though, as I'll tell you who else was considerably merrier than usual – Mr Artem Chigvintsev, who was uncharacteristically BEAMING throughout the first group dance, although was no change to the glazed look in his eyes.  AND he and Aliona didn't look like they wanted to kill each other as they danced – so Merry Christmas one and all!  Mind you, I might have missed the daggers, as my eye was mainly drawn to another couple in the opening pro-dance.  Oh yes.  All hail the return of KATYA!  DANCING WITH IAN WAITE!  Truly a special Christmas gift for all.  So much so that I was warmly tolerant of Anton (I blame the Jerry Hall effect), who was also particularly feeling the festive joy by getting to dance with Ola Jordan, dressed as Sexy Father Christmas.  Ho ho ho.

Then they let the celebs out, and SHOCK HORROR, their brief appearance in the opening dance was full of timing, grace and smiley dance faces – and it has to be said that the standard was well maintained throughout the evening (whoever casts the Christmas show should be sought out for full-time duties).  Even Tess looked uncriticiseably nice (clearly I was smashed) in a white angelic dress with a glittery snowflake for a neck design, although I suppose it did have something of the drawbridge about it.  Meanwhile, Bruce had apparently refused to take off his Christmas cape, but – to be fair – capes are pretty cool, whatever Edna Mode might think of the practicalities.

JB from JLS was first up, getting to jive with Ola. “Oooh, he has lovely teeth” decided Mr Cad's Granma. I agreed, and also found him a lovely jiver, albeit with added boyband swagger. He looked like he was having a whale of a time, probably because he was getting to wear a toy soldier outfit - surely every urban pop-boy's dream.  The judges loved it and I did too - I think I actually clapped at the TV when he was done (again I blame the drinkies).

And then KATYA!  WHOOP!!!  Honestly, I got more from her VT with Bobby Ball than I did from a whole series of Karen Hauer and Nicky Westlife.  She was in a great old mood – smiling and giggling away, attempting Northern accents and calling Bobby “honey”.  Her scariness only seemed to extend to calling him “Robert” when he got something wrong. In short, BRING KATYA BACK.

Their American Smooth opened with some more 'comedy' gems – Bobby packing up the following gifts for each judge: pickled walnuts, nutty cake, The Big Book of Yahs and a one way ticket to Australia – SURE, nothing sophisticated about that attempt at the funnies, but I totally enjoyed it. I also enjoyed the dancing, which was surprisingly delightful and really made me smile, especially as Katya is a good half head taller than Bobby.

(I was a little confused by Bobby's tash though – it was like 'the Anti-Hitler', with the bit under the septum shaved away, and the hairy parts extending past the nose. I didn't see anyone attempt The Ball for Movember. Maybe next year...)

After Katya, more Christmas pressies - IAN WAITE ON THE DANCEFLOOR!  Oh ambassador, you are spoiling us.  And Ian got to dance with The Glammother: Sheila Hancock, who is SO not a lady to be messed with - I think she would out-terrify even Katya, though I'm not calling it on terror wars between her and Erin.  She was also Jerry Hall levels of funny – airily describing her acting career as “playing titty blondes”, when clearly she's anything but.  

On the downside, she had been dressed in fluffy white feather ruffs and glittery flesh paneling around the crotch and titty blonde areas, which was... odd.  But her performance was highly elegant, and when you think she's going to be 80 soon - WOWSERS.  A sobering thought – though obviously not enough to harsh my buzz.

Talking of Christmas tipples, I notice another change since the main series – Aliona clearly used her time off in the operating room to get hold of a new push-up bra...  Her partner Fabrice Muamba was equally perky (amazing given what he's been through) and it turns out that he bucks the typical footballer trend and is just the loveliest.  Example: insisting on a bum shaking move making the final cut of his salsa, cutting down Aliona's insistence that they should spend 80% of the dance having him stand still and her jiggle around him (I mean, they didn't actually show footage of that, but clearly it must have happened...) 

It was an absolute cracker of a performance too - hips ahoy!  Only a week's rehearsal, but probably one of the best male salsas I've seen – mainly as I didn't cringe ONCE (and we're talking about a man wearing a puff pink dress shirt).  Conclusion: BOOK HIM FOR THE MAIN SHOW IMMEDIATELY!

The good casting continued - though I already had quite high hopes for Katy Brand, as her Sports Relief Beyoncé was thigh-crushingly impressive.  An Anton Christmas latin might have been worrying, but their Viennese waltz was rather sweet, even if the theme was the slightly bizarre 'a fairy cooks Anton's turkey dinner'. I bet Katy'd do the main show in a heartbeat, but surely her wish would be that, unlike a puppy, Anton wasn't for life – Christmas is plenty.

Last up, Blue Peter presenter Helen Skelton, who had all the exhausting energy you'd expect of a children's TV presenter – Artem got through it fine, though, even suggesting that Helen's bubbliness was the reason for his forced smile. There was nothing she could do about the stoned eyes though.  I wasn't that blown away by their jive, to be honest, but possibly the effects of the champers were wearing off by this point.  Mr Cad's Granma enjoyed it, though I didn't get to hear her thoughts on the pec Artem flashed in rehearsal, which was disappointing.

Time for the studio audience to gather their thoughts on who should win, whilst the Strictly die-hards started to salivate at the forthcoming REAL excitement - the Strictly All-Stars rehearsal and the hope we'd see backstage footage of Kerplunkski and Brendan throwing bitch looks at each other across the floor and maybe a dramatic soap opera slapping incident.  (Sadly denied.)   However, my excitement was immediately dampened when Tom bloody Chambers was first to appear and gurn/greet Father Russell Grant Christmas at the door, although I did take some bitchy joy from his appearance - he was looking WAY hungover, like Gollum with the norovirus. 

And cue all the other slebs arriving and air kissing each other (the louder the MMMMWAH the more they hate each other).  They looked a right motley crew, in spite of their attempts to cover the cracks with elf hats and tinsel.  I tell a lie - Colin Jackson was looking limber, though he and Erin had clearly forgotten who the other was (the invitation to the Olympics/Gin Bar must have been lost in the post). 

Chelsehh was actually looking fine too (fresh from learning what a turnip was on Come Dine With Me) and was happily reunited with Me Pash (ever lovely, hair aside).  And there was no way of missing glossy Kelly Brook and Brendan - oh so adept at hogging the camera, giggle, giggle, “we're the naughty ones of the class!” (Translation: “LOOK AT US LOOK AT US LOOK AT US ARE WE ANNOYING YOU YET? Errr, that would be a yes.)  Class swots Kerplunksi and Ian Waite were noticeably unimpressed: eye roll, "typical Brendan." (Translation: "Yep, ten years on and he's still a total wanker.")   

Finally Beige Stevens beiged into the background, taking Vinthent with her, and Ola and Chris Hollins reminded us of the lovely friendship which won them the trophy. (Dancing?! HA! Take that Ricky Nipple!)  Sample chat: Chris: "Am I fatter?"  Ola: "You're not fatter, Chris, you're just a bit more round".  Love them.

Oh and Widdecombe was knocking around too – looking ever more unhinged with no Anton to wrangle her.  It was chaos, really. Show-off, showbiz chaos.

But before we got to see their performance, Rod Stewart dropped by to croak out Let It Snow, channeling the Christmas spirit by donning trews and being hammered on eggnog.  His standard dance moves seemed to be turning his back on the audience and crouching down like he needed a poo, so I guess it's no surprise none of the pros wanted this as a showcase.

And then, onto the announcement of the winner.  Huh?!  Before the Champs' Dance?  Random, but there you go.   And (drum roll)... bravo to JB and Ola, who were probably my favourites too (along with Fabrice).  It's all the more hilarious to think that Ola now has another glitterball to brandish in James' desperately competitive face. Mwahahahahaha.

Finally, finally, time for the last Strictly blast of 2012 – the All Stars Performance itself and the Tom Chambers tapdancegurnathon!  It was a bit shambolic, but enjoyable nonetheless.  Kelly and Brendan opened events, recreating their illegal multi-lift American Smooth (in the distance you could hear Craig crossing off points); then Erin and Colin quickstepped in, fortunately no puppets in sight, before Chelsehhh did a bit of flauting at the judges' desk and Pasha threw her around a bit, which wasn't quite the Strictly legacy I remembered for her, but hey ho. Chris and Ola did nail their legacy - that classic charleston (YAY SWIMMING), even if Chris was a bit more Haka tongues than I remembered.   I'll skip over Tom's sickly tap dance, and should probably skip over Kerplunkski's... well, I'm not sure what that was – let's just say standards have come on some way since Series 1.  Rachel Stevens was looking a little bit rusty too, but Kool and The Gang isn't necessarily the best soundtrack to a moody Argentine Tango, so I'll go easy on her and just go back and watch her When Doves Cry original. 

The whole thing ended with a selection of the class of 2012 coming out on stage for a clap and a Mexican wave, and Widdecombe and Grant cast as, well, old people locked out at Christmas – not really allowed to dance, but just about acceptable in the final tableau.  It wasn't amazeballs, but it was fun - and what else should we expect from an under-rehearsed group dance performed by people who'd gone back to their day jobs?

So enough bah humbug, as, overall, I really enjoyed the Christmas special – which gave me hope that maybe some footballers can be lovely (hmmmm) and that Strictly 2013 might be beautifully cast and full of dancing joy! 

Happy New Year, Strictly people. Keeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep etc.

Series 10 - The Final

Well there we are - that was Strictly Come Dancing 2012.  So near, and yet so far – by which I refer, of course, to me and my sweepstake loss (damn you James Jordan).  But well done Louis!  And well done Beth, who is £14 richer.  Well, £13, if you don't count the £1 she put in.  Well, £11 currently, seeing as I've still got one or two stakers owing some money...  Ahem.  Don't worry Beth – you'll get your winnings, honest.

So, how was it for you? Much like the series itself, I found the final nearly amazing, but somehow also slightly lacklustre.  I don't want to be the Strictlycad of DOOM, but I must admit that I've struggled to turn the excitement levels all the way up to TEN! this year, and really get my teeth into proceedings – not because the standard has been bad, as it's clearly been very high indeed, but... well, I can't quite put my finger on it...  Perhaps the ensuing blow by blow blog critique will provide us with uplifting enlightenment about the particularities of 2012? (Sure it will, if for 'critique' you read 'bitching' and for 'uplifting enlightenment' you read 'filthy trash talk about the visibility of Robin's nipples'.)

Onwards then and hooray for an opening pro-dance - it feels like the series has been short on them, and the ones we have been treated to haven't always knocked my socks off.  This was a lively paso, full of gritted teeth and skirt sweeping, but clearly Wardrobe had run out of good fabric and were forced to source the male outfits out of bargain basement piss yellow satin and some old velvet slacks they'd found in the old Come Dancing cupboard; even Artem looked sickly - probably affected by the mothball smell from the flares (Anton was fine, he was wearing a recently dry-cleaned vintage pair from his own collection).  The four finalist pros also got a bit of a showcase, which Flavia totally won (an omen!) and the whole thing ended with the four celeb finalists being shot up onto a large screen, above their name in lights, each wobbling and looking terrified, which didn't quite make for the rousing opener, but was nonetheless enjoyable.

And then “For the final time from Television Centre” (sob - and sadly no mention that this might be Bruce's final time, grrrr), on came Tess in full body maxi foil with special gold sheen, which could only have been more mess dress if it had been a jumpsuit – I so wish it had.

On to the dancing then! Well, no, for tonight's final was the land of a thousand recaps, and it wasn't possible to get anything done without first having to watch a clip of something we'd seen before and/or a member of the public commenting on it.  (Plebs passing judgement on Strictly – imagine!  What next, getting them to write it down and blast it over the internet?)

Still, EVENTUALLY, it was time for the competition to actually begin - starting out with the Judges' Choice dances.  I have to applaud the attempt at high drama, whereby each dance was formally announced in a minimalist office setting, with each couple ushered in to face the judges to hear their fate, job interview style - if job interviews were carried out by a panel of four people in full evening wear.  It's only a shame they didn't use the Dragons' Den studio for added tension - maybe with Hilary Devey on hand to lend extra shoulder pad and all out terror.

Wisely the judges asked Denise to get her Week 2 jive on – a dance which only got four 8s last time because it wasn't coherent from a plot perspective to get one's ten paddle out a fortnight in.  It was aces (again), even if Craig only deigned it with a 9, but I was a bit disappointed that we didn't get a costume update (not even shiny braces for James), but I suppose these are times of Victorian austerity.

Dani was assigned the tango, and attempt #2 at feigning crazed lust for Vinthent without corpsing was successfully negotiated.  I've no idea who Vinthent was phone-sex-pesting this time, but Props had obviously given Dani a health and safety warning about the robustness of the phone box, as her thumps on the glass pane were rubbishly fake – what an error.  It's ALWAYS better when the set shakes.

The judges gave Kimba the ViennCheese Waltz which put her in the bottom two last time, so she must have been delighted.  It actually served her well – neatly showing her real improvement over the weeks, in spite of that salmon fillet dress, with less gorgonzola and more sweetness this time, though it did take all of my energy to mentally blur out Pasha's horrible hair.  Have I mentioned how bad his hair has been this year?  Maybe once or twice?  But.... seriously ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! *&"*%$ @>*%^$&(~)#

Finally, the equally bad-haired Louis redid his Dirty Dancing salsa, which you'll remember old Goodman was all grumpy about, because it didn't have any salsa in it, so gave Louis a 6 - which practically got him lynched by the studio audience. Len was less crotchety this time, as they'd apparently upped the salsa content (armography ahoy), but I didn't really notice much difference.  But the lift was still great and the boy knows how to pop a man-hip.

TALKING OF LIFTS!  Time to showdance (well, via more filler - duh)!  Whether or not you're a showdance fan (I'm on the 'not' side), it can absolutely be make or break time – just ask Erin (who messed it up by giving Colin Jackson a strap-on... puppet, that is) or Camilla (who claimed victory by giving the grey rinse army exactly what they wanted: 90 seconds of Tom Chambers tap-dancing and gurning).

The theme of Denise's showdance was 'A Massive V Sign To You The Great British Public'.  So you find my faux-humble 'not a trained dancer me' Essex schtick annoying and unlikeable and think that I'm too good and plan to vote me off first, do you?  WELL FINE.  Time to don an Ola Jordan sheer catsuit and perform a lengthy series of terrifyingly impressive lifts.   The haterz haterzed it, of course, but I thought it was a magnificent 'sod you all', which successfully served the only purpose it could – getting Dani kicked out before her.

Poor Dani, but I have to blame Vinthent for that Bohemian Crapsody. (OK, that's me being WAY harsh for the sake of a shoddy pun - it wasn't THAT bad at all, it just didn't quite come off.)  It started out ok, with the 'Mama (da da da daaaaa da) Just Killed A Man' rumba section going without a hitch, in spite of Dani's maternity mini-tent dress.   Unfortunately though, the 'I See A Little Silhouette-o Of A Man' and 'SO YOU THINK YOU CAN STOP ME AND SPIT IN MY EYE-AII-AIIIIII' paso sections were just too challenging, messy or under-rehearsed, and I think it made the audience a bit uneasy and after Denise's Lift City triumph, it was that much harder to see Dani as Top Three.  It would have been better as a standard paso, frankly - maybe with Vinthent in a wig of some description.  But that is the eternal showdance problem – Vinthent must have felt he had to go big (hahaha, but he so TEENY) or go home (and cue.).

Pasha went big too - by mainly applying that concept to Kimba's hair, which was MASSIVE. Indeed, their performance was much like back-combing itself (stay with me) – admirable size and volume, but always running the risk of unkempt messiness. The lifts had some dodgy moments (loose fuzz tendrils), but she successfully combatted that with major sass and all out frenzy (hairspraytastic), and no other dancer let quite as loose as Kimberley – she gave it her all.

She also pulled off the better costume change too, going from Farah Fawcett jumpsuit (the first one I have EVER liked and which the rest of Twitter found horrific) to a teeny little hot pink number with bum ruffle – which explained the slightly random VPL just before.  It also had shadow lap dancing, a ring of fire and the general throwing around of a Girl Aloud, so much to commend it.  One minor complaint - she should totally have danced it to The Show.

Finally, Louis was up, with what was widely expected to be a flip'n'trick frenzy, but turned out to be a Argentine Tango/rumba/contemporary dance mash-up to the strained notes of Dave Arch's singers properly struggling with Rule The World. I always had high hopes for this – not just because of the Olympic gymnast thing, but because Flavia has Showdance Form (yes, I'm thinking of that time she got Matt diAngelo to spin her by her mimsy and I immediately switched my glitterball allegiance away from Alesha).  And Flavs didn't disappoint - not just by dressing Louis in torso and bobsleigh tights, but by incorporating a lift where Louis strong-manned her above his head, then slowly lowered her to an upside-down vertical position, much like a sommelier offering a bottle of wine, only it wasn't wine, IT WAS A GROWN WOMAN AND HE DIDN'T DROP HER ON HER HEAD. Or indeed, on her mimsy.

It was so impressive Bruce must have stopped napping and acutally watched it - asking for two high fives afterwards and suggesting Louis join the Royal Ballet. Darcey diplomatically poo-poo-ed that notion by indicating that he didn't have a big enough “instep”, though she didn't elaborate on whether the tights were to blame.

And so to part two, where Tess returned in what looked like a gorgeous navy velvet dress with gauze shoulders and tasteful-in-a-bling-sort-of-way diamanté detail.  But "wait until the camera pans down" Mr Cad advised – and there speaks the voice of experience.   Turns out it was a peplum top (restrained by last week's standards) over mini skirt over net curtains. It was not good.

After – of course – some more VT recapping, which was a total waste of my time as it failed to reveal what Vinthent had lustily blabbered down the tango phone, it was time to announce which couple were about to have to stew in their unused dance finery for the rest of the evening – a visual and symbolic reminder that the odds had been defied and James Jordan was actually more popular than them.

Poor Dani, all trussed up in leopard skin with nowhere to jive.  But let's take this moment to say a bloody well done to Miss Harmer, for bringing many of us round and ultimately turning out to be a charming little dancer.  Vinth, my love, maybe next year – there's bound to be a little poptart they can throw at you. Then again, after Kristina-Colin-gate, anything is possible, and maybe you'll be asked to dance with Miranda. I think I'd boycott – EVERYONE knows Ian has to come back for Miranda, EVERYONE.  It is known, Khaleesi.

The last dance was the couples' favourite, so no surprise to see it waltz and samba-free.  Denise and James went for that divisive Cleopatra charleston which some LOVED and others (me included) weren't so enthused by, though the sound was better this time, which helped, and James ended the performance with a salmon dive across the floor, which I don't remember from Wembley, but was bloody hilarious. 

Kimba and Pasha opted for the When Doves Cry tango, which had left me oddly mardy and yearning for Rachel Beige Club 7's Argentine Tango, but I thought was truly tense and excellent on this occasion.  And I LOVED her dress this time - what was I thinking before?!

Finally (again – almost like the prod had decided to subliminally engineer us into thinking “best til last”) Louis re-performed his 'breakthrough' doctors and nurses charleston, which I really enjoyed before and did actually make me chuckle again – he gave good face and good swivel, and it reconciled me quite happily with the inevitable Louis win.

And then the dancing was done. Quick dance performance, the return of the celebs, Robbie Williams on to screech a ditty, then on to the results, right?  WRONG. The right answer was 'all of the above' plus HOURS of recap and chatback bumpf, with NO CLAUDIA IN CHARGE.

Though I was quite impressed that Robbie deigned to have Artem and Aliona on to perform to his song – they did their usual OTT dance-scrap where they have the most almighty diva-off and Artem seems determined to snap off at least one of Aliona's limbs by the end of the dance. (I actually found their writhing excessively long, but it was nothing compared to the low-cost vox pops filler that followed, including the continued futile attempt to get the 'Strictly Shimmy' to catch on - NO-ONE CARES.)

The Final Group dance was its usual hot mess drunks at a wedding, though the worst part was in fact the lady pro outfits, which can only be described as THE WORST SHORTS IN THE WORLD EVER EVER EVER EVER EVER.  (And regular readers will know that puts them at the very bottom of a very deep fashion pile)  Honestly – what a rubbish send off!  It's a bad day when even Natalie Lowe looks dodgy - but what good could possibly come from satin boxer short playsuits and cardboard tux bibs?   

The celeb involvement was carefully kept to a minimum, grouping the couples by order of elimination (very limited Johnny - phew), with marginally more screen time for those who lasted longer, thus culminating in neat little showcase for series' favourites Lisa and Robin and their traditional Robin humping Lisa lift.  I should have said this after their elimination, but if Robin hasn't earned himself a ringer for 2013, well... then he's the new Anton, and his Strictly career will be lengthy, if un-victorius.  The group dance ended with Jerry Hall high-kicking then falling on her arse, laughing, but in the most graceful way ever.  I still bloody love her.

And then the results! HAHAHAHAHA, are you kidding me? No, first some more filler, as they wheeled out the BBC abacus to count the votes.

AND THEN FINALLY, yes indeed - THE RESULTS, with Flavia nearly passing out with joy at winning and Louis looking quite pleased too - and so he should, he can finally get drunk now. They weren't my favourite couple – I always felt like Louis wasn't quite giving his all - but they did have a truly great final and are worthy winners in that sense.

Denise was never going to get it - she just didn't have the popular support and it will be interesting to see how this affects her next professional move and whether Andrew Lloyd Webber comes back calling (post Strictly tour, of course).  As for lovely, lovely Kimba, this has been a great move - I'm not sure her show choons album will reach Cheryl's sales figures or get Nicola's critically acclaimed album reviews, but am sure she'll do better than Nadine (well...), and there's no doubt she's won over middle England and is certainly their favourite Girl Aloud, whatever that might represent.

But was it the best series ever? Well, not for me - not even close, but it had some lovely moments (Michael's jive) and dispelled some myths about fat birds.  And I'm certainly looking forward to next year - can we possibly hope for no Bruce? That would make a huge difference for starters; Tess is perfectly able to steer the HMS Strictly.   I'd also like more training footage, more Claudia and more TessDressMess – this year has been maddingly tasteful (there's far less to blog about when a girl can't get her bitch on).  And La Bussell can stay – I really warmed to HER, YAH, her interesting COMMENTS, YAH and her POUTY FISTPUMP, YAH. 

On the other hand, the theme weeks can go, but I am willing to give fusion another chance – big of me, I know.  Maybe, in exchange, the Argentine Tango can be saved for the semi finals, even if there are seven couples in it.   I'm easy on the dance-off – it's useful to combat against joke characters, but this year there was no Widdecombe to hamper proceedings. And lastly, as many trained dancers as you want – for me, it's been great watching stage schoolers Denise, Kimberley, Dani, Lisa and, er, Sid out on the dance floor, already familiar with the perils of pan hands, the importance of pointing your toes and the vital tits and teeth mantra.

I think that's it then - thanks for reading, whoever you are! I might be back to bitch my way through the Christmas special, but when there's no JOURNEY (and, er, no money on it), it's just not the same. Thanks especially to Mr Cad for being my sometimes unwitting weekly co-watcher (apart from when he comes up with better gags than me – bah to that) and thanks too to my lovely sweepstakers - this time next year then? Go orn, go orn, let's totally do it again. Keeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep gambling!

Series 10 - Semi Final

Was there a dry eye in the house when Lisa left?  I doubt it.  (Especially sweepstaker Louise mourning her lost £1?)  In the end, it was right for Lisa to go at this stage, and to leave the other four (better dancers) in the final, but I think I still rate her as one of my favourite contestants this year.  She just seems like a bloody lovely girl and, as for her partnership with Robin, well, I think this neatly sums it up:

 

 

Just joyful.

 

Interestingly, her 'journey' wasn't really about the dancing, which didn't really improve that noticably as the weeks went on.  For me, she opened the series with her best performance and nothing quite had the impact of her first cha cha - similarly none of Robin's outfits quite had the impact of his first (chain-mail) vest.  But she bookended the series well, as I really enjoyed their final dance, the American Smooth and all that jazz, even if it should have been Robin in the sparkles, feathers and chiffon.

 

At least we got some final Windsor pec in their opening salsa, nips peeking out of that flesh-coloured shirt – well, flesh coloured before the seventeen shades of fake tan were applied to the Bobby body.  As for the dance itself, good comedy head bongo at the judges' desk (safer than the bum bongos previously on offer), but the highlight was, of course, that gloriously botched floor spin.  Well, I say 'spin', but the momentum wasn't quite there, was it, so it was more of a floor sp: 270 degrees of floor burn, then Lisa wonderfully improvising some on-her-back hand jiving, whilst Robin skipped around having the time of his life, before noticing that he should probably rescue his partner.  It wasn't Michael Vaughan levels of axe'n'jive hilarity, but it had all the enthused exuberance we'd expect from La Riley, showing that, even in times of monumental error, she was never the comedy character the show had thought she'd be – but was, rather, an ace big girl who knew how to cut some rug.

 

As for her D-O opponent – well... it remains a bit of a mystery to me as to why everyone hates Denise Van Outen.  I just think she’s a proper quality dancer and I always rate her performances head and shoulders above the others. I  understand some find her arrogant, ambitious or cold, but I think I have sharply developed Anti-Arrogant Antennae (ask Ricky Nipple), and she seems fine to me...  It may be the bias of my £1 stake (it is), but, all things considered (especially that £14 pot), I'd like to Denise win.  THERE I SAID IT! 

 

This week her Roxanne tango was shiver'n'tingle outstanding and I even actively enjoyed her rumba, which is almost unheard of, given my feelings about that particular dance – no need to deploy my sister's tactic of 'rumba mode' and watch it behind my hands, or the sofa.  I appreciate that Denise hasn't really improved that much over the weeks, as she's always been good, but, well, so what!?  Well, I suppose I can think of one thing – the unbearable being of James Jordan if he ever gets to win the glitter ball.  Sheeesh.   Maybe it's not worth it after all...

 

Especially as I'd happily see any of the other pros win, as the remaining dancers all seem particularly delightful.  My soft spot for the Italian pony is well-documented and Dani too has also won me over - she's turned out to be a rather charming tiny dancer.  Sure, her American Smooth could have been a bit more wow, but I’ll put it down to having to learn two dances this week.  And I still enjoyed it – finding it rather sweet, in spite of that pastel ruffle skirt, made of nylon sheets stained by rogue Refreshers. 

 

And I loved the totally unnecessary fountain which was used for all of a second as Vinthent stood next to it giggling at the start – I'm fairly sure he was chuckling at how he'd made Props source and construct a papier maché tribute to the Trevi which he had no intention of actually using at any point through the dance.  Unless it was there as a safety precaution to deal with the high fire risk, given Dani's nylon situation.  (Would have helped if it had included a functioning water feature, but, as Louis demonstrated with his locker prop, the Beeb prop budget doesn't stretch beyond cardboard.)

 

I was slightly less convinced by Dani and Vinthent's Argentine Tango, though I loved the choreography and the music-less opening – I think it just needed a little more time to get polished.  Also, it's tough to tango with Vinthent and not have the rest of us compare and contrast with Flavia and her astounding crazy legs of flickery and sharpness.  So far, only Rachel Stevens has come somewhere near the outer car park of the ballpark of pulling that off.

 

Poor Flavs didn't actually get to dance an AT this series, did she? Maybe it's a good thing, as Louis is perhaps a bit too jelly-legged off the pommel.  I think that was my issue with his jive, even if it was still harshly under-marked – it was just a bit too caj, innit.  Look, the jiving was fine, but the highlight was when he nearly broke the set by just doing some inadvertent leaning. 

 

I preferred their Gotye foxtrot, even if Flavia didn't take the opportunity to have Louis out on the floor in nothing but full body paint.  I guess she’s saving the guns and nudity for the final. 

 

Pecs or no pecs, Louis is currently the bookies’ favourite to win, as I'm sure he will garner mucho phone support, as he has up until now.  But that's if Kimba doesn't sneak in, as she's really hit her stride at the right time.  If she showdances a stormer, the glitternball could wrenched out of Aliona's hands and end up hers. (My tip there would be to NOT choreograph a routine which involves strapping a puppet to your boob).  I have to admit that Kimberley's American Smooth was truly excellent – properly sultry and slinky, especially in that HAWT Jerry Hall dress. 

 

Am still ignoring Pasha’s hair, by the way.  I can’t believe that’s actually still happening.  However, I think he might have borrowed last season's poo slacks (hooray!) for the charleston - neatly tucked into his socks, like all aviators do.   Sadly, the poo slacks weren't quite enough to turn me on to their charleston, which, unlike the judges, left me a bit cold – I really enjoyed Kimba's gurning, but it was lacking something for me...  Probably it was lacking tasteful bottoms – more high-waisted hell, I note.  She looked great in her ridiculous turquoise shorts and cropped tinsel jumper, but will Wardrobe not think of me and how much I'll personally suffer, having to look at the women of London attempting to recreate such a challenging look in the months to come?

 

And whilst we’re on the subject of dodgy fash – well, hello Ms Daly, happy Sunday, and what crazy big hip wings you have on your otherwise acceptable bridal gown.  It’s not that I’m as anti peplum as I am anti city shorts, but there’s really no need to ensure your peplum flare can double as a hang glider.  (Unless it was a knowing tribute to Katya's hat, in which case it was the greatest Strictly outfit ever known.)

 

In other Sunday news, Tonight Matthew, Katherine Jenkins Has Decided To Be Marilyn (she wishes) Does Commerical Classical.  YAWN.  Not even Kristina and Robin happily gatecrashing that one was enough to save it for me.  And if that wasn't enough boring promo, K-Jenk then did a jive, with a rather lot of emphasis on the crotch, including a moment when her partner reached between her thighs and gave her the clap - it would actually have been pretty good as a celeb competition attempt, but as a dancing showcase it was just really annoying.   

 

Elsewhere the partner swapping continued as Ola got a go on Artem (or vice versa), which was ample revenge for James saying how his rumba with Denise was the bestest, favouriteist, most amazingest dance wot he had ever done in the world ever, ever, ever.

 

And there we go - the end is now in sight.  I'm not sure it was the greatest Semi Final the show has ever seen, but it had its moments and, despite this not feeling like a vintage year, ultimately, I am excited about the final, as there is great potential for some fantastic dances.  I think (I hope) it will be a close run thing, with real tension when the results are announced – probably between Kimberley and Louis.  (Maybe Ben will finally win the sweepstake after two years running with the Anton ticket.  Just goes to show...  You're all in for next year, right?)

 

And at least Denise will be able to leave on a 40 for her reperformed jive – which, frankly, deserved full marks at the time, but it was too early in the season for the production to sanction such behaviour – would have ruined the story.  She'll be out first though, so get ready for a full scale James Jordan hissy fit of brilliantly epic levels when she goes – swearing, V flicking, crying, the works.  That would be worth losing the sweepstake for.  Keeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep hoping!

 

 

Series 10 - Week 10

So Nicky Westlife stood up off the tall stool of mediocrity and power-balladed his way out of the contest, along with Abi's £1.  Although it was certainly his time to go, it did feel like he was given a massive helping hand by the production - clearly shafted by the mix he got from CONfusion Week (SEE WHAT I DID ETC). Samba + American Smooth = producer-based sabotage.  It didn't help that, conceptually, I have no idea what the dance was really trying to achieve – Karen had come straight from the Mad Men typing pool, Nicky from a snooker tournament, and they'd jumped on the 17.07 to the seaside to American Samba on the terrace of the Strictly Fish and Chip Shop, just down the road from Flavia's Beach Hut and Natalie's Coconut Stall.  This seemed to mainly consist of getting Nicky to run at chairs, whilst Karen pulled them away last minute, with Nicky still defaulting to boy band nightclubbing when he lost his technique.

Van Jam were always going to win this, so the bottom two pairing effectively rendered the dance off itself pointless, though not before James Jordan had a hissy fit about how much Denise trained and how UNFAIR it all was, and Nicky had a bitch fit about how he wasn’t a TRAINED DANCER like his friend that cow Denise.  All a bit unsavoury, I thought.

 

On balance, I’d say it’s a Strictly adieu to Karen, rather than an ‘au revoir’, as I’m not sure she’s done quite enough to be kept on for Series 11; it all feels rather more Jared than Pasha, but we shall see.  I think we probably got more pizzazz from Iveta's two short weeks of animal print and cat face, than we did from Karen's ten week Ugg Boot tenure, but perhaps her total lack of chemistry with Nicky Westlife is to blame and we'd get more from her with someone else...  She was certainly no Katya, but, well, who is? 

 

I'm worried for my £1 stake now - Denise's popularity has not increased and the Daily Mail comments remain venomous.  Van Jam have now had a couple of dodgy weeks – one off-week was wise, as it humanised them, but two in a row is unfortunate, as it meant they couldn't rely on the impact - and safety net - of a Len-approved Comeback.  Their Jive-Quickstep seemed really promising at first; they'd set it in Erin's Gin Bar, a place where dreams are made, and were flicking, kicking and quicking rather delightfully, until, DOOM - wardrobe malfunction.  I couldn’t tell quite how it happened, as it wasn't like there was a long or wispy skirt in action, but, out of nowhere, there was an odd little ankle wobble, Denise's face went pale, and then the back of her dress was all jagged.  She did her best to get back on track, but it looked like she was too busy trying to get her heart to leave her throat - though she might have literally been trying to hold some sick down, given James' outfit; they'd taken Robin's pukey yellow shirt from last week and glitter-gunned it, which did nothing to improve its vileness levels.

 

Not that Robin will have cared about James taking his cast-offs, because, this week, THE GLITZ WAS BACK!  Electric blue, sequin frenzy, slashed to the navel, sheer side panels, hell yes.  Sadly the shirt was probably the best bit of Ri-Ro’s Cha Cha-Tango (Chango) – I loved the song choice and I enjoyed the concept, but whilst most of the dancers are improving, Lisa is losing her impact.  Her tango was very rabbit in headlights and although she relaxed into the cha cha, she relaxed a bit much and forgot her steps.  And did you notice Robin had a wee bit of trouble removing her skirt, Eurovision-style?  I suppose he isn’t used to ripping off ladies’ clothes.

 

Dani’s outfit came pre-ripped, but those daring cut out sections really suited her figure.  Sure, she benefitted from a combo of dances (Quickstep and Charleston) that fused together beautifully, but I thought this was WONDERFUL. Thwo thennths for Vinthent! Thenthathional! I know that Kimba got everyone’s hearts pounding, but for me, this was the dance of the night – based on the scientific evidence that it was the first performance of the series that I immediately wanted to watch again.

 

Not that Kimberley was poor - OBVIOUSLY, she was great, especially as she had to deal with wearing a scarlet mirkin.  I’m just not sure she was 40 great (*protects face from incoming missiles*).  In my defence, I didn’t see the show live and had already stumbled upon a Kimba Gets Full Marks spoiler, so perhaps my expectations for her Chango were too high.  Pasha did an incredible job, given the tough brief of fusing two dances together that are pretty different, but I couldn’t quite get on board with the mix – so I think it’s more my problem with the randomness of the fusion, rather than the performance.  Besides, however many Weathergirls you might throw at a tango, I’m just not ready for J-Don to lose his camp tango crown yet. 

 

In many ways, Louis had the worst deal, having to Rumba, regardless of what dance it got matched with (Tango in this case).  Though, on the plus side, I guess he's only had to do half a rumba, so that’s not bad going for a series of Strictly.  For me, fusing tango (fan) with rumba (not a fan) is a bit like ordering a pizza (fan) to discover it comes with mushrooms (not a fan).  It just spoils a good thing, frankly.  I also note that Flavia finally lost a bet to wardrobe – after a few weeks of gems, she had to wear Fraggle Rock: The Return.  A dress of fuchsia fringe is not a great look, even on Miss Cacace.

 

Whilst we’re chattin’ fashion, Saturday Tess: a vision in peach soft furnishings, with an old top left to fester and cover in lichen, but somehow, she wore it ok.  I preferred it to Sunday’s Lady in Red, with its bloodstained epaulettes and unnecessary frill.  Meanwhile, Mr Cad was delighted to note that Claudia had come in her slip.

 

The weirdest moment of the weekend was the Alice in Wonderland pro dance – with James Wonka Madhatter Depp taking on the appearance of a terrifying monkey.  I didn't really like it that much - happy with the idea and the stripy stockings, but I found it a bit dull.  So did Natalie, clearly, as she was nowhere to be seen.  This meant Erin had another Anton reprieve and got a go on Brendan (though, tough call, really).  But she is having a sterling partner swap season.

 

In other news, Bublé performed, but I used that time to go for a wee.

 

Well now, the end is near, and one couple won't make it to the four (wo)man final.  I think Lisa might lose out, unless she shows a distinct improvement, in which case, it will all depend on whether Denise faces a better performance from whoever else ends up in the dance-off.  Too close to call!  Exciting!  Keeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep etc!

Series 10 - Week 9

Well, tell you what Michael Vaughan – you may not have won the glitter ball, but there is no doubt you deserve this little bad boy:

When I think back to that jive, well... I laugh and laugh and laugh.  But that is a GOOD thing, as that shambolic mangling of musicality and movement will remain enshrined in my mind as a joyful and exuberant ICONIC Strictly performance, which not only had hilarious cardboard axe work, but ..... (dramatic pause) .... ACTUALLY HUMANISED Natbot Lowe - amazeballs.   I'm not sure I'll long remember many other particular dances from this series, in the way I will that jive – we’ve seen a high standard of dance, so there have been numerous quality numbers, but it takes something special to properly stand out, and Michael's hot mess hoe-down is currently the one to beat.

He gave it a good go with that samba – swapping cowboy jive shirt for chest rug under glitter vest under West African lounge wear, with Natalie dressed in an Ikea blanket fringe, and an electric blue centurion feather headdress, which of course ended up with Bruno.  From a dance perspective, it had to be Michalie’s time to leave, but it's still a shame to say goodbye.  At least the judges (Bruno) took the opportunity to take it to Innuendo City, with mentions of gay abandon and swinging both ways, inadvertently launching into the debate about gay and bisexual sportsmen not coming out.  However, the best double-entendre was from Nat herself: “I spent 40 hours on Michael's left hip”.

 

So fare thee well, Michael Vaughan and Terry's £1.  Good work, in spite of your ultimate disregard for the conventional notions of dance.  And especially well down to you, teacher of the series, Natalie Lowe - for whom, I'm sure, this year will go down in history as the one where she finally won Strictlycad over.  (Though her “you’re amazing, you’ve made my dreams come true” sign off gush to Michael has marked her down some serious points, as I’m a bitch like that.)

Although I think the other dance-off-er, Nicky, turned out a much better dance performance than Michael, in some ways I wouldn't have been so upset to see him leave this week, as harsh as that sounds.  I think the niggling issues I have with Nicky Westlife are a) his naked ambition to WIN, coupled with b) the fact that he's not quite as good as he thinks he is.  I mean, we're not talking Craig Kelly levels of delusion, as he does have some ability, but I do rate him below the other remaining performers.  His Argentine Tango was fine, and admittedly improved in the D-O, but the James Bond 'acting' was a massive ham platter.  And, besides, an Argentine Tango shouldn't be 'fine', it should be wowsers and breathtaking and give you rude tingles. 

Mind you, Karen did her best to get the tingle bells going, donning a dress that was subtly, but actually, ruder than Kristina's AT pantless wonder; it seemed demure at first, before you noticed that the back was made of lace and remembered that lace is SEE-THROUGH, and you could see, well, her arse.  It probably didn't help that the front had something of the silver mirkin about it.

 

Best costume, OBVIOUSLY, was Vinthent the Gondolier (straight out of the Venetian, Las Vegas) who'd gone on a last minute Movember – I’ve now lost count on his parody spirals.  I didn't think 'When The Moon Hits Your Eye Like A Big Pizza Pie, That's Amor-ay' was going to form the successful basis for a romantic Viennese Waltz, but it actually worked charmingly, probably helped by Dani dressed as Angelina Ballerina (yes, that'll be the ballet mouse).  However, I remain none the wiser about what a pizza pie might be - other than blatantly delicious.  “Bon jovi” as Len said (for my sins, I properly laughed at that one).

Oh, and I did enjoy the irony of Darcey reminding Dani that, to get her top positioning right, she should imagine she was wearing a gorgeous necklace – whilst Darcey was wearing a pretty dubious choker herself, made of Lion-O’s belt buckle, covered in diamanté.

(Aside: I watched the new Thundercats the other weekend.  It was acceptable, though it’s a sad incitement of modern culture that new Cheetara has had one hell of a boob and lipo job.  Surely it’s only a matter of time before we’re subjected to Cartoon Hero Week on Strictly, but I for one would not be against a paso to the Thundercats theme.  Oh yes.)

Still, I’d take Darcey’s thunderchoker over her Sunday night get up – I think she’s been pretty tastefully dressed most of the time, but this was a serious results show misfire.  There aren’t many outfits made of shiny purple-grey sticky back plastic which I’d rave about (in fact there are precisely none), but to then go for EXECUTIVE SHORTS?  Seriously?  Can’t we leave them dead and buried in the Naughties?

Apparently not, if Strictly Wardrobe have their way, as Kimba’s Jive outfit also heralded some shorts action.  It really does leave me perplexed - we’re talking here about a clothing item prone to particular unflattery: high-waisted for phantom tum bulge, up on the leg for extra wobble thigh exposure, high risk of camel toe, polterwang and/or chaffing, all with limited seasonal benefit, and which only went out of fashion a few years ago.  Can’t we wait for flares to make a full come-back first?

 

However, Kimba still jived valiantly, one or two dodgy tricks aside - though I'm sure we'd all feel equally nervous flying back and forth through Pasha's legs.  The only other bum note was the inclusion of Jive Bunny - like the shorts, that trend can stay well in the past, thanks.  I'm not sure what Jive Bunny has been up to since 1991, but he looked like he needed a turn in the washing machine.

More Darcey judge-watch: did you see how Kimba was protectively covering her tum when Darcey gave her comments, after last week's belly slag.  This week, however, Darcey decided that Kimberley *had* toughed up her core – well, if it only takes a week, I am prepared to do those sit ups.

Sadly the Windsor torso was undercover again, but I suppose that’s not unreasonable for a quickstep, though imagine how he'd have rocked a vest in that sicky yellow colour - oh yes.  Lisa was a vision in lemon, which she actually pulled off bloody well, even if there was something of the dinner lady coat about her dress.  And the dance too was reasonably light and nippy, mainly thanks to Robin, who totally choreographed some slow bits for breath-regain purposes.

 

I also enjoyed the Carol Kirkwood weather forecast cameo, though it did lead to the evening’s highest showing on the Bruce-rage-ometer, when he took the piss out of Carol still dancing away on the background VT.  How DARE he take the piss out of NATIONAL TREASURE Carol Kirkwood.  HOW DARE HE?

 

(Well, he dares, I think, because, for whatever reason – advanced age most likely – he has lost the ability to handle Saturday night prime time and isn’t as sharp as he maybe once was.  It’s time to retire, Brucie, to retire it is TIME.)

It was good to see someone challenge Louis for the tumbling crown, as Lisa launched herself full somersault over the sofa.  However, he’s a tough competitor to beat, and his flip over Flavia - yes, the one where he landed, legs akimbo, over her head - well... that was impressive, even for an Olympian.  I think he hit a breakthrough with this Charleston – mugging it up beautifully, no hint of any trump stench in the vicinity whatsoever, but mainly well done to Flavs for resisting a straightforward trick after trick choreography, and actually peppering the acrobatics in amongst a load of swivelly, rubbery dance steps.

Special mention to Flavia's hat, which whilst not as iconic as Katya's Blackpool hat, from her Gavin Henson days, was probably more wearable in non-ballroom context.

Denise, dressed as the Bahamas athletics squad, could probably have benefitted from a hat too, as I'm not convinced by that bouffant curly style with the sides pinned up - both Nat and Den have sported it this series, and, frankly, it's not a million miles from an outright mullet.  Van Jam had a trickier week with the salsa, thanks to it being a fairly rubbish dance (my least favourite at zumba - FACT) which James couldn’t be arsed to learn all the way through.  Or perhaps he was preoccupied, worrying whether back sweat would show on his mesh shirt.  I mean, that top was not a sartorial highpoint.  Mesh back, PVC collar, and skinny braces?  Next!

In fact, CONTROVERSIALLY, I’m going to suggest Tess gets a fashion prize this week.  Not for Sunday’s peach travesty, OBVIOUSLY – and over to Mr Cad for that one: “you can't polish a turd, but you can roll it in glitter”.  Yes indeed, peach sequin explosion, which might have been acceptable as a dress, but why match it with a shower curtain for a mini skirt, and in a slightly different shade of peach, no less?  HUH?  Awful.

 

No, it was Saturday which triumphed.  I'm going to gripe that ironed hair isn't my favourite, as I prefer some VOLUME, and the wonky Cleopatra's Accessories necklace wasn't entirely to my taste, but ultimately Saturday's blue dress was MMMMM HMMMMM.  Good enough to nearly make me forget Sunday.

What else did we see?  Well, ‘Bruno falls off chair' can come off all our bingo cards.  And then there was JLS, who seem like lovely boys, but have the same approach to tuning that Michael Vaughan has to rhythm.

 

Am I the only person who thinks this week’s pro dance was inspired by the Made in Chelsea's prohibition party? (Am I the only person who actually watches MIC?  I am totes ashamed that I do, you know.  It's terrible, but addictive, like Pringles or crack).  Anyway, the pros all went down to Erin's Speakeasy (following the success of her Gin Bar, she's expanding) to practice their waiter skills with plastic champagne glasses glued to trays, and Ola and Kristina came on all Roxie and Velma, before Natalie Lowe, cast as the bar's one paying lady client, turned up orgasmically drunk – throwing her fur near Artem, winking all over the shop and even momentarily sitting cross-legged on the floor, very vaguely resembling an inebriated hen refusing to go home even though it's 4am and the music’s stopped – but in the 1930s. Still, somewhat surprisingly, she did finish her final pose on time.

And then there was Alfie Face of Boe Selecta.  Is it a total travesty that I prefer the Hear'Say version of Bridge Over Troubled Water?  It did benefit from not having Aliona's pants heavily featured.  That was the angriest rumba I have ever seen – unless Artem actually was trying to snap Aliona's head off...

Next week, FUSION, as demonstrated by some charmingly shoddy split screen, which put Len Goodman in Kristina's naked tango dress. (I laughed, the shame.)  I await, with trepidation, what combos will we see, but let’s be optimistic, shall we?  Maybe it will look like this filthy raunch fest by Matt Cutler and Aliona: Ahem.  Let's keeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep hoping.

Series 10 - Week 8

I missed the live show, as I was out at a delicious seven hour booze fest of a Thanksgiving Dinner (hooray for Americans!), but Beth texted me on Saturday night to say “Bruce has made me so angry, I'm going out”, which boded well...  I don't blame Beth - I can well imagine how, on his current form, such Bruce-rage was launched, probably within the first few minutes of the show, so I wisely took advantage of the main advantage of the Virgin On Demand Replay function - the fast-forward button.  (Though I still felt an anger twinge when I spotted a speeded up Bruce doing what looked like his unbearable fake-striptease whilst getting fake-garrotted by a pearl curtain – just, ARGH, etc etc.)

 

However, no fury from me that Victoria is gone - like dad's kindly shovel putting young Timmy's wounded gerbil out of its misery, it was a bit sad, but mainly for the best.  Sure, her dancing and performance have improved over the course of the series, and she nailed some rather fearless lifts, but it was still a relatively shoddy salsa and she generally looked like she wanted to be somewhere else (as did Brendan).  In the end, she took it with excellent grace (read relief) and only a few Pendletears, but they were probably more to do with her hedge-drag hair styling and that outfit made of rhinestone, triangle midriff and flammable pink lycra - it might have been Vic’s time to go, but it was still pretty callous to have her leave the show dressed like Adult Honey Boo Boo Child.

 

Mr Cad: “Oh well Victoria, at least that's the extension paid for.”  Sorry Sweepstaker Jo – it wasn't your year for that £1 to become £14.

 

It was probably right to see Michael in the dance-off, in such competitive Strictly times (especially after Nicky Westlife’s champion charleston), but what a comedown after Wem-ber-ley's American Smooth triumph.  Wisely, Natalie had made their Argentine Tango all about her, with Michael playing the part of the wooden post around which she whipped and twirled, but it wasn't quite enough, as there's only so much you can hide one half of a dance duo, regardless of how well-versed you are in Me-Me-Me-ism (still newly love you Nat!).

 

Another problem is that I'm very much Team 'Argentine Tango Should Only Be In The Semi Final'.  I still object to seeing it performed so early, as there's all the more risk that it will be less than perfect and will disappoint - as this tended to.  It didn't help that they dressed Nat in the offshoots of the Halloween show (the maroon velvet scraps that traditionally form the standard Sexy Witch outfit) and the remains of Vinthent's Shaggy wig - apparently there was only enough left for a fringe (what HAD he been doing with it?).  Is that really what the lady gauchos are sporting in the pampas these days?  My guess is that they, like the rest of the bloody world, are more likely to be dressed in the animal print vulgarity that is the Kardashian Collection.  (WHY? etc etc.)

 

Dani also did badly in the hair extensions draw – if they dared to offer Beyoncé ratty acrylic curls like that, I'd imagine she'd throw a diva fit the likes of which not been seen since I last went into a full scale Bruce-induced caps lock and exclamation marks tantrum.  I was also unconvinced by Dani's outfit – the showgirl mustard crotch fringe didn’t have the greatest effect on stretching her proportions, did it?  (There's also a joke in there about getting a Brazilian, but I'm steering well clear.)  HOWEVER, costume aside, it's important to note that their samba was really, really great – she made it look easy and good fun, rather than the rehearsal shit fest we know it is.  I hope to see her stay awhile longer.

 

I’m not sure what I made of their speed dating VT though...  Sure, it made me laugh (Vinthent as Del Boy? COME ON), but I also feel like the Italian Pony has become a parody of a parody of a parody of himself – soon he'll have gone full circle and then maybe the universe will explode.  Remember the days when his ludicrousness was only in its early budding stages?  When he was having a stretch and fell backwards off his chair?   When he said that Rachel Stevens was “shaking like a leaflet” (PLEASE, THE INTERNET, FIND ME THOSE CLIPS)?  Those were good times - natural comic times, where you didn't need to force the quips and stereotypes...

 

It was also the time when he and Beige Club 7 were robbed of a win, even though they did that AMAZING Argentine Tango to When Doves Cry?  And, for me, that made it a mightly risky strategy for Pasha to reuse such iconic Strictly music for his tango with Kimba this week.  Whilst When Doves Cry is certainly a great song for a moody tango, I just felt a bit (unfairly) grumpy about seeing another dance to it.  (This makes me a total hypocrite, as I had no problem watching Kristina and Colin take on Goldeneye for their naked Argentine Tango a few weeks ago and most of the time I fail to even notice blatant song recycling.  Bad Strictly fan.)

 

To continue the nit-picking, whilst I loved loved loved Kimberley’s dress, I also wasn't feeling royal blue for a good tango colour and, maybe it was just me and my grumpiness, but I also thought the hold choreography felt a leeeetle bit repetitive - even if it was brilliantly executed.  I should get over myself though – it really was very good.

 

In any case, I bloody loved how they inadvertently set up the comedy highlight of the series, when Craig referenced Kimba “nicely placing her thumb in Pasha's crack”.  Although I didn't watch it live, I'm fairly sure the gayer parts of the Strictly Twittersphere exploded with a whole load of volunteers.  Hey, not just the gayer parts.  The internet LOVES Pasha and it's a well-known fact that the internet is always right.

 

I suspect there was also some lusty internet support for Louis in his matador outfit, though not from the judges, who were rather unkind, once again – evidently they've moved on from Nicky and are gunning for Louis. I did tend to agree with their comments, but thought they were pretty miserly on the scoring.  He didn't tangle his paso cape (too much) and I thought his acting was better - there was no hint of fart smell face and we saw from Len’s lens that he even attempted some growling.  But it did look like Flavia was actively in charge on the dance floor, when he was supposed to make her feel all meak and cape-y.  She was probably just too empowered by her awesome outfit – my my, what ruffle action.

 

I thought the judges were quite mean to Lisa too - they didn't quite say “too fat to rumba”, but it felt like the subtext.  I was quite moved by Robin and Lisa’s performance, but that's probably because a standard 'sexy' rumba makes me retch, so I was always going to prefer the poignant story of a Barbra Streisand fan and his best lady friend playing out the classic tragedy of a fag hag in love with her GBF - he does love her, just not as much as he loves, well, cock. 

 

Yes, I went there.

 

OK, so moving swiftly on, I really enjoyed Karen the Flapper and Nicky's rubber-legged charleston - and can't believe nineties classic Doop (by Doop) hasn't been used for a charleston before.  However, I was a little unsettled by the VT of Nicky's sons, who, whilst very adorable, had Hollywood child actor hair and wore waistcoats, both of which always terrify me on children.  I suspect that the charleston was just a dance that really suited Nicky, rather than him suddenly having cracked latin and ballroom, but we shall see.  Maybe, as we reach the final third of the show, Nicky has been suddenly inspired to get up off his metaphorical stool, reach for the modulation and give it some proper welly as the ladies scream - but in dance form.

 

And then, last/not least/etc etc, Van Jam’s American Smooth.  Wowsers.  I totally promise that I didn't fix the sweepstake when I got James in the draw.  Honest.  Honest, honest.

 

Truth is, I'm not sure Denise will ever garner the support to win the popular phone vote, what with her previous dance training and professional employment as a, erm, dancer, but I think she might be bringing them round.  (I just need to check the social barometer that is the green-arrowed comments on the Mail Online.)

 

Anyway, even though Denise's performance was wonderful, the best bit was still Flavia's reaction to what she clearly perceived to be over-scoring – she went from pouty face to actively shaking her head.  Hahaha – more of that please.  I love an honest reaction backstage.

 

Dances done, I’m going to leave Saturday's TessDressMessAssess to Mr Cad this week.  His comments, re: Saturday, were as follows: “That dress is nice!  Her boobs are big and in the right place!  And that pattern provides a guide and confirmation!”  I suppose I should be peeved that he's checking out another woman's rack, but truth is, I'm proud to have taught him how to gauge la Daly’s fashions choices so well – it WAS a nice dress, her (sizeable) boobs WERE in the right place and the pattern was, well, if not quite “a guide and confirmation”, it would certainly be fair to say that the floral and leather bondage detail neatly drew attention to the Daly girls.

 

But then Sunday.  OH TESS.  Sunday’s attire was just hideous beyond words, though obviously that won't stop me attempting to describe the vilesville which confronted us.  It was essentially an outfit designed to show that Tess wasn't wearing any knickers, thanks to a chiffon strip which ran up her sides from her calves to her peplum bustier.  I'm told it's Stella McCartney, which comes as precisely no surprise – my thoughts on her terrible work are already well-documented and it's important that we remember Stella McC is a woman prepared to dress HERSELF thusly and thusly to a FASHION EVENT, which... well, I rest my satin balloon jumpsuited case.  The jury's still out on whether this is Tess' all-time worst, but it's certainly up there with, for example, that infamous yellow jumpsuit.

 

Let’s end on a more positive note, shall we?  Flawless!  What a cracking routine with the Strictly Girls – Erin, particularly, must have been delighted to get a specimen from the sexy man troop to dance with.  Meanwhile I’m imagining Brendan skulking from the sides, giving them death stares.  Unless he was already aware of the inevitable dance-off ejection, in which case I’d imagine he was too busy jumping for joy, shouting “wooo yippee!!” and booking a cab to get the hell back to his pregnant wife as soon as physically possible.

 

I can’t believe there are only four weeks left!!!  It’s gone so fast (am sure Mr Cad will be thinking ‘well, it’s relative...').  I still can’t call the final three – but I might cagily wish for a Denise – Lisa – Dani final, which seems folly when I note there’s no Louis in there...  Basically, I have no idea and am notoriously bad at predictions.  So lo, we’ll just have to keeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep watchin’.