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’.