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.