Series 11 – Week 5

Dear me, that were Proper Sad!  We got an actual speech sniffle breakdown from our Robin as Deborah was fired - and with just cause.  It was a real shame and a good few weeks too early.  I found their power struggle Viennese waltz theme rather taking, and preferable to the usual pseudo-romantic mush, but there really was just too much table-faff at the start.  (And not even a Trump-esque ‘LOOK AT MY TESTOSTERONE’ mahogany monstrosity - more a school dining room table ready for a post mushy pea wipedown.)  I don’t even think Robin needed to kill time that way - Deborah was pretty passable in hold.  Poor Bobby does get confused sometimes though, doesn't he?  To him, two ribbons of cotton are a ‘vest’ and 'business' is playing pictionary on a perspex board up the Gherkin.  Bless.  Anyway, sorry Jules – your sweepstake pound was a failed investment.  But mostly, sorry Deborah - the British voting public failed you.

I do think the judges were right to save Patrick though, and not just because he’d hurt his wrist rollerblading - an unfortunate, but hardly surprising injury (we're talking about an activity that gave my sister a full chin beard bruise).  However, his one-handed salsa was as unmemorable as all of his other dances, so I can't see him lasting long, even at full double-fisting strength.  Patrick and Anya just seem to lack any TV oomph - clearly Wardrobe didn't even think him exciting enough to sew up a bespoke sequinned bandage.

Though Wardrobe were perhaps too busy working on the real outfits to pimp up a wrist support.  Indeed, dresscellence (yes, bitches, 'dresscellence') was a real theme this week.  I can’t decide which gown I craved the most really, maybe Abbey’s, no Sophie’s, no Iveta’s, no Fiona’s, no Rachel’s... (Mwahahahahaha I jest - *never* Rachel’s).  And alongside dresscellence was a more unwelcome feature - “messin’ abahht”.  The pros have learned to avoid the faff (and Len’s wrath) in Week 1, but seem to think it’s ok to sneak it into Week 5 instead.  We got cage-faff, guitar-faff, letter-writing-faff, transparent-umbrella-faff, hiding-behind-a-theatre-programme-faff, having-a drink-and-wiping-Anton’s-brow-eww-Beke-sweat-faff...  Len was not amused – his walnuts definitely remained unpickled.

The oddest faff of all was Ben and Kristina’s sofa-and-pillow-fighting-faff.  Look Kristina, I miss the endless Friends repeats on E4 too.  Genuinely.  But you just need to add Comedy Central to your cable package, and you'll be fine.  Moreover, choreographing a quickstep to the Friends theme tune is never going to bring you quite the same joy as Ross and Monica's routine - that's the dance inspiration to seek from that show.  Though I'd have happily seen Ben skip about to any old jaunty pop tune to be honest.  Buttocks like a shelf. 

Indeed it might have been such attributes that saved Ben, who scored the same as Deborah.  Only Rachel and Dave scored worse, but as soon as I saw Karen walking down the stairs with a fruit bowl on her head I KNEW the Hairy Dancers would be fine.  It was a salsa triumph, from the Aldi Carmen Miranda stocking up her supermarket trolley with fruit and Biker, to the ruffle-sleeves, aeroplane spin and maracas-ography.   Plus I’m a total sucker for a conga, even if it is only a two-man.  (Craig, on his reinforced hip-op chair, was probably only fake-furious because he couldn’t join in.)  If they keep trotting out joyful comedy of this eye-watering standard, then I will be on board for quite some time.

It's Rachel who should have gone, I’m afraid - that dance was not good.  And I know things aren't great after a Dance Off week, but that's no excuse to don a scarlet mirkin in the name of telephone votes - no damage limitation is worth that!  I like Rachel, she seems to demonstrate the more positive attributes of human nature and she's properly stunning, but please don’t make her do vamp again.   Her Sexy Face is Pouty Squished Face, and it has something of the toddler on the potty about it (let's hope that acting coach is happy to offer refunds).  The paso itself was no better, sadly - it seemed to consist of Rachel angrily doing Heads, Shoulders, Knees and Toes, before Pasha grabbed her and made her headbang in hold.  To be honest I can't actually believe the public saved this over Deborah and Patrick, but such is the power of The Pash.  No-one is immune to wanting another week of Kovalev.  I know I’m not.

Speaking of Russians and swooning, I wonder how many hours and promised favours it took the production staff to get Artem to shake his maracas in a Mexican hat and Spanish flag poncho on camera?  That must have been one tough negotiation - I predict he gets the ringer for series 12-15 AT LEAST.  Apparently, the Chigvintsev samba was a Strictly first and I can see why they’ve tried to resist it appearing on a family show to date - talk about pelvic!  Ofcom will sooooo be getting letters.  At least they tried to sex it down by sticking Artem in polyester slacks and a Travelodge waistcoat.  As for our celeb, well Natalie was typically and joyfully excellent.  Her dreaded samba was so good it made Len fart.

Speaking of farts...  No, I have nowhere to go with that one.

Let’s move on to Ashley then, who squeezed 30 hours of training into ten.  Was this because he was at home caring for his new-born and other child?  No.  It was because he had vital self-promotion to do, like going on Lorraine and 'doing radio interviews'.  Pfffff.  (Can you tell I’m not warming to ATD?)  I do quite enjoy a rock’n’roll jive, and Ashley’s a perfectly competent dancer, but Ola Jordan needs a more charismatic cheeky charmer to bring out her comedy genius and ATD is stifling her.  At least he let them bouffe his quiff.

Aljaz, on the other hand, had unappealingly flat hair this week - though the grease pot only makes a teeny dent in his insane handsomeness.  Sometimes I wonder if we should all don sunglasses when he and Abbey appear, such is the power of their combined beauty - it's the kind of thing that can inadvertently start a terrifying sex cult.  I thought it was unfortunate that the pre-dance VT focused on Abbey's nerves, as it made me notice just how terrified she looked throughout her foxtrot.  But the judges saw more than this mere amateur, raving about her performance at length.  

I preferred Susanna’s American Smooth personally, which was as lovely as you’d expect, if a mite too yellow.  I mean, how many Big Birds had to die to make her skirt?

It was actually Mark who trotted out my favourite ballroom of the night - a charming (faff-free) waltz to a three-four cover of Apologize, with added synth – I would not be averse to more R’n’B being presented in this way.  The more I see of Iveta, the more I rate her.  I even enjoyed the ‘Finishing School’ ‘lesson’ she ‘organised’ for Mark where his 'upper-class' ‘teacher’ ‘Lady’ Henrietta was wearing tartan tights and platform sandals - I'm accordingly dubious about her aristocratic credentials.  Mind you, it is a feature of the very very posh that they can wear absolute gubbins, provided it’s made by an approved fusty label*, so maybe my suspensions should be allayed.

I’m sure Fiona Fullerton could have provided just as good a lesson in saying ‘heow neow breown ceow’ in a cut glass voice.  Fiona must have felt vulnerable after a few weeks knocking around the lower end of the leaderboard, so it was time to wheel out the Bond endorsement - not that Moore, Roger Moore is quite the attraction he once was in a Jacuzzi.  (I sense he’d have trouble rocking the Daniel Craig budgie smuggler.)  But Fiona done good on the dancefloor and made it through her quickstep without much de Beke shunt and drag.  She was rewarded with 8’s - not a paddle Anton’s used to seeing. But let’s not dwell on paddles that Anton is used to seeing, eh?

Indeed, let’s move swiftly on to Sophie and an apparent chink in her hipster armour – turns out the cha cha does not lend itself quite so well to cool natural elegance, sadly.  She is still SO PREEETY though and adorably cool.  No wonder Brendan is embracing the show with such gusto this year.  He’s also embracing the eighties, I note – yet another Miami Vice blazer with the sleeves pushed up.

Actually, the pro-dancer costume budget for the week probably all went on the geisha mini-dresses and white tights our ladies wore on Sunday night, leaving limited funds for the guys; I'm sure I've seen the red wrap tops they wore in Dorothy Perkins.  (My working theory is that Dottie P’s didn’t manage to sell off all the plus-sizes, so Wardrobe got a bulk deal.)  Beyond that, I’m not sure what the dance was about, perhaps Japanese Jets and Sharks (fans v parasols), but it had some cracking lifts in there and a weird jerky quality that I truly enjoyed.  I even coped with Anton’s exposed chest.

No exposed chests from Tess, but sadly not quite enough bra hoiking either.  However, it’s Claude who gets the honourable #messdress mention, in her vicar’s collar meets leather armchair furnishings meets Percy Pig meets tent dress.  As awful as it was, ultimately, when you are as brilliant as Claudia Winkleman, who actually cares?  Best just to move on and get down to some Earth, Wind and Fire - or Soil, Breeze and Damp Squib as Mr Cad called them.  It’s true that they don’t quite have the lung capacity they used to, but at least we know the tunes well enough to imagine the original studio recordings, and they were quite happy to let the pros dance to their hits, which always gets extra points from me.

And there we have it.  I’m still sad about Deborah to be honest.  But it's ok, as we have Halloween Week to look forward to (SARCASM ALERT).  Time to shoehorn some scary into songs and dances that have no connection to anything remotely eerie or frightening.  Let the fake neon eyelashes adorn our dancers' eyes and let the baldies be bewigged in cobwebs!  It's time for Make-Up to go ker-azy.  Keeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep it spooky. 

Series 11 – Week 4

T'rah Julien – it was always going to be thus.  In many ways it will be a relief not to have to stare at Julien’s terrifying grin and his immovable eyebrows, whilst wondering when the coke high is going to fade and he’s just going to stop dead and topple over, like a clockwork toy (possibly, allegedly, don’t-sue-me-ly, like-you’re-going-to-read-this-ly).  But, on some level, I will miss the constant refusal to use an ‘indoor voice’ and his OTT enthusiasm for the Strictly wardrobe.  At least he left in the finest creation to date: a special mix of electric blue/purple chiffon and sequins, with a giant shoulder broach made by an overexcited five year old with badly supervised access to the sewing box, a Christmas cracker and some Pritt stick.  Sorry sis - it's Isabelle who loses her £1 this week.

However, I hope this isn't the last we see of Jeanette ¡Manrara! who looked resplendent during their salsa in a bikini dress made of Poundshop streamers – how many party poppers do you think they had to set off to make that one?   She also looked utterly illegal in a red jumpsuit during her show-rumba with Artem - I believe the dance term is ‘tutti fruity what a booty.’  At least it’s answered that timeless question: ‘who on earth looks acceptable in a jumpsuit?’.  The answer: teeny professional latin lady dancers.  I wonder how much her boyfriend Hot Aljaz enjoyed that performance...

Controversially, I’d have used my Fantasy Judge Vote to save Julien over Rachel in the dance off.  It was basically 'WTF hot mess' versus 'WTAF hot mess', and it was Julien's hot mess which I ‘preferred’.  The problem with Pasha and Rachel’s quickstep was that I didn't have a clue what was happening at any point of the process.  I mean, there was a giant metallic contraption (were they on a submarine?) and Rachel was dressed as... well, she was wearing an air hostess' hat, a stripper's waistcoat and posh gentleman's mustard trousers, so you tell me.  In any case, she looked terrible.  I didn't think Wardrobe would ever find someone they hated more than Holly Valance, but this might be it.

On the subject of looking terrible, oh Tess – you were doing so well, but Sunday’s white mini-dress was a lumpy return to #messdress and then some.  From what I can garner, Wardrobe just stuck some sequins on a tablecloth (or maybe that five year old did it) and then wrapped it around Tess and stapled on some saggy white chiffon - I’m not even sure how it’s possible for chiffon to sag, but la Daly managed it.  Mr Cad articulated the problem perfectly during Sunday’s goodbye section: "Tess has several inches on Claudia, but their chests are in the same place." EXACTLY. EXACTLY!  Saturday was mildly better, but still saw Tess continue her trend of using bits of old tights to customise her dresses - with lacy black tights, not worn since the eighties, stretched over the arms.  On the plus side, Tess did have excellent bedhead and total fox face throughout Saturday's show.  

Also rocking fox face: Darcey. I don't usually comment on (bitch about) Darcey, as she looks nice as standard, but it’s worth saying that this Saturday, la Bussell looked AMAZING. Girl crush level amazing.  

Sophie Ellis-Bextor also looked gorgeous, but that comes as no surprise.  More surprising: she made me want to try the foxtrot (unprecedented).  It’s her effortless über-cool that does it, I think - although I'm slightly nervous as to where the copycatting might end.  Foxtrot is bad enough, so let us vow right now not to all have matching heart arm tattoos by the end of the series, eh? (Together we can be strong.)  I’m starting to peg Sophie as a real contender for the trophy - the terrible moves in the Murder On The Dance Floor video (and indeed pun references to it) are well behind us.

Obviously, Natalie remains the main contender, but – and this sounds awful – I was ever so slightly bored by her brilliant competence in the quickstep this week.  (Only very very very very very slightly, mind.)  But it was still HIGHLY EXCELLENT, in spite of the gurning and the horrific wafty culottes.  I mean, it had caneography!  It had spat dance shoes!  And it had a topiary mohican!  (For if you are going to tether Natalie’s incredible giant hair, this is the only acceptable way I've seen to date.)

At the other end of the scale - dance-wise, not hair-wise - was Fiona.   Mind you, she should be given extra points for having to stomach rumba-ing with Anton (dear God, ‘Anton’ + ‘rumba’, words I can barely combine without retching).  Sadly, there was another end-of-dance crash for Fiona, but, given the circumstances (coping with Anton's latin sex face) it’s not surprising.  I'm not sure World Of Our Own was the best musical framework for a raunchy rumba, but it was ultimately for the best, given how it kept the steam down.  At least the danger of an Anton rumba is over for another year, eh?  And although we might still have to face a samba, we can take solace that there could be some excellent trouser potential on that front.  (Ewwww, that sentence did not read how I meant it to read.)

For his samba with Susanna, Kevin From Grimsby wore some safari linens – but the REAL costume news is that he finally bowed to external pressure (again, a sentence that does not read as I meant it to read) and kept his spexy specs on - well, an elastic band kept them on, as he pretended to be a bespectacled Indiana Jones rescuing Susanna, dressed as 'Sexy Pocahontas'.  (I can only deduce that he was saving her so they could go to Britain's most randomly themed fancy dress party.)  The Wonderful Wonderful Orchestra's Shakira cover was special too – I don’t think they had the budget to wheel in some actual panpipes, so had to opt for the ‘Panflute 1’ setting on the Dave Arch synthesizer.  Sure the dance was a bit messy, but I would never criticise anyone for giving it their all to Whenever Wherever - we’ve all been there.  I even have vague notions of requesting it several times at a friend’s wedding and getting my way, before going mental flamenco on the dance floor.  Please note: this is not behaviour I could possibly sanction or recommend.

Perhaps Robin and Deborah were also on their way to the same fancy dress party as Kev and Suse, ostensibly as 50% of Buck’s Fizz, though Robin’s wig was clearly Vinthent’s Scooby Doo hairpiece, re-dyed.  Strictly and Eurovision are basically two of my greatest loves, so this should have been right up my street, but... it fell flat for me, sadly.  It didn’t help that Deborah was jiving in orthopaedic sandals and the mini-skirt reveal turned out to be a space-age silver tube skirt (even Jeanette ¡Manrara! might struggle with that look).  No, the real issue was probably the choice of song.  When you look at the Eurovision back catalogue (and I would urge the bravest of you to very much do so), Making Your Mind Up, whilst fine, is actually not the performance from which to seek inspiration.  Not when you have THIS.  Or THIS. Or THIS!!!!!!! etc etc etc.

Actually, the fancy dress performance of the night – indeed, the performance full stop of the night - was Iveta and Mark's hip hop cha cha.  DEAR GOD I HAVE SO MUCH TO SAY ON THIS.  Firstly, we must admire the majesty of Iveta Supersharpshooter training in a leopard print catsuit WITH MATCHING LEOPARD PRINT TRAINER SOCKS. AND THEN!!!  IN A TIGER PRINT CATSUIT POSSIBLY WITH MATCHING SOCKS WHO KNOWS THERE IS NOT ENOUGH CAPSLOCK IN THE WORLD.  In short, animal-print-tastic.  

I bloody love Iveta - or rather I bloody loff Iveta – she’s just brilliant.  Take her accent, for example, best described as 'sexy evil villain of indeterminate Eastern European extraction’: “Marky Boi, I'ff got you some accessories.”  And she's playing this with a choreographic expertise that rivals James Jordan’s.  Their cha cha was perfectly pitched after last week’s more serious attempt and went right back to Mark’s strength – theatrical comedy.  Obviously it's a given that any dance in any context (stage, club, shower, bus stop) to U Can't Touch This will be an utter triumph, but it was the details that marked out their cha cha: Mark in a vicar's collar sprayed with gold lamé effect; Iveta’s hair fashioned into a severe Vilnius facelift; the choreography, which was a clever mix of comedy hip hop sections with Mark at the forefront and cha cha sections with Iveta at the forefront, all culminating in a slow motion leg extension to make your eyes pop.   Like Darcey, I loved it.

Even better though, was the ensuing scoring sequence, as Craig's 3 was followed by Darcey’s incredulity and a defiant "8!", matched by Len also showing 8, with Bruno falling off his chair in faux camp disbelief, before rapping out his own "s-s-s-7".  HELL. YEP.  Mr Cad and I have watched it at least eight times and I’m still crying tears of actual laughter.

Elsewhere, Dave and Karen toned down the comedy this week, but I still very much enjoyed their super cute waltz.  Dave is just totes adorbs, really, and that’s all there is to it.  Karen looked smokin’ - she is clearly loving her partnership.

For her part, Abbey also looked smokin’, but there was a bit too much smoke if you ask me – what was going on with her eye make-up (again)?  There’s smokey eyes and there’s looking possessed.  I didn’t really like her Kate Bush billowing sleeves for a tango either, and really, although the judges found it AY-MAY-ZING (as Tess pronounced it), I was slightly 'meh' about it all.  Probably it needed Florence herself to belt out Spectrum.  Oh HELLO – there’s a new one for my ‘Future Celebs Wot Should Do Strictly’ list.

The judges were also keener on Patrick’s cha cha than I was.  I thought it was nearly really good, but Patrick and Anya are still suffering from being competent, yet not particularly exciting and memorable, even if Anya does train in her pants.  Though Anya did take my advice (yeah, course she did) and the Casualty arm muscles came out - short satin sleeves ahoy.

Sadly, however, there were only really room for one set of guns on Saturday - and that would be Ben 'swoon ad infinitum' Cohen.  I understand that there was some salsa going on, but, in truth, I spent the whole thing with slightly dewy eyes endlessly repeating 'my God he's so hot' like a dribbling idiot.  Yes, there was a bit of car faff, but THAT VEST...  I mean, THOSE LIFTS! Spinning Kristina like she was nothing.  If Ben doesn’t have to dance, he will go far indeed.

Ben might even be real competition for the main male contender: Ashley Taylor Dawson.  I’m struggling to warm to ATD, somehow.  I found his Viennese waltz with Ola rather mincey - though 'wafty' seems to be the technical term, if the judges can be trusted on such things.  Ahem.  We also discovered that Bruce has an aversion to a waistcoat without a jacket – like the opposite of socks and sandals.  It's actually a rule I'm happy to support, especially if your waistcoat is made of white satin.  That was preeeeeeety rank. 

Are we nearly there yet?  I think we are!  I’ll leave the comment about Sunday night's child's lock burlesque pro-dance to Mr Cad: "Kristina in that giant cocktail glass is basically playing the part of a bubble.  It's like being third tree from the left in the nativity.”  Indeed.  We also saw Natbot cameo as a newsreader, presenting the headline story: “Who stole the glitterball?” (Aliona, clearly), as well as the graphic department having a right laugh during the judges voting - never will I tire of seeing two glitter balls perfectly aligned with a lady dancer's boobies.  Yes, it’s lowest common denominator immature.... and?  In fact, on that note, I’m off to watch Bruno fall off his chair as the judges discuss the tightness of their respective bum cheeks.  Classic stuff.  Until next week, peeps... Keeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep clenching!

Series 11 – Week 3 - Love Week

Farewell Feltz. It was mercifully brief in the end – though perhaps harsh to lose out to Julien's manic coke jive, and harsher still to leave with your hair styled like My Little Pony.  Her tango was a bit heave and drag, I suppose, but you could tell she was giving it her all – trouble was, her all just wasn't that good at dancing.  But ultimately, well done Feltz – I didn't smash the screen every time you appeared, and I don't find you as loathsomely irritating as I used to.  Surely that's a win?  No win for Louise though – it wasn't to be for your £1 this time...

I'm glad Julien survived his second appearance in the dance-off – but, let's face it, it won't be his last.  If Vanessa's tango was heave and drag, then Julien's jive was GRIN AND FLAIL.  It doesn't help that Jeanette ¡Manrara! is such a phenomenal dancer, making their side by side bits look a bit Before and After (not sure what gets you from the before to the after – some powerful hormone injections at the very least).  Costume-wise, Julien is continuing his mission to be as elegantly crystallised as a Swarovski toilet seat (I SWEAR such an item exists – I saw it in B&Q); this week, the sparkle hit his jacket shoulders, like reflective expensive dandruff.  It's got to be a full body sequinned catsuit for next week's inevitable exit, right?

Mind you, as patchy as it might have seemed to the untrained eye, Len, in his infinite wisdom, still gave Julien a “seVEN!” for his jive, which is the same score he gave Patrick, Fiona, Rachel, Mark, Ben, Deborah and Ashley.  Yes, ASHLEY - Head Judge Len Goodman thought that Julien's performance was as good as ASHLEY'S.  !!!!!!!!!!!! (etc)  I know the judges' scores are usually all over the place (frankly, the only consistency is that they are always arbitrary, apart from Craig, maybe), but, to quote Len back at himself, COME ON!  Ashley's dance was probably one of the night's best – certainly from the boys.  Sure his samba bounce was a little mincealicious, but to say it was the standard as Julien's hot mess...  Nope.  And hasn't Ashley lost the baby weight quickly?  He might not have the inflation of an Artem or a Robin, but gosh he's taut.  

Sophie, representing lady Samba, is also taut – after THREE babies.  We met her rock star husband in the training VT, who has all the raw and potent sexual rawk charisma of a librarian – but there's certainly a market for that, even if it doesn't necessarily move like Jagger.  He also got to feel Brendan's bum against his man bits, so I bet he was glad to turn to turn up at rehearsals.  At first I was underwhelmed by Sophie's samba (we were always going to be let down after her aces charleston), but on second watch, I think I could be sold.  She's just quite naturally cooler-than-thou, and has a nonchalance in her movements which seem gawky and uncoordinated at first, but are actually pretty competent and charming when you take a closer look.  Well to me, at least.  AND she pulled off an outfit made from the offshoots of a Horror Clown costume stitched on to a gym leo and feather bumdress.  I also enjoyed how the whole thing dated Brendan as Proper Old – that was clearly not the first time he'd danced to All Night Long in a Miami Vice jacket with the sleeves rolled up.  He was there with Lionel the first time round - though I accept that in New Zealand that might have been some time after the rest of the world.

Still, as good as Sophie and Ashley might be, it's Natalie Corrie who is dominating.  That rumba!  I didn't even need to watch it in 'rumba mode' (you know, where the whole dance of lurrrve thing is so squirmingly embarrassing you have to watch behind your fingers, with one eye closed.  Copyright: my sister).  It was so good that I didn't notice Artem's naked chestbags until about halfway through.  Natalie's diamenté-encrusted mint green cossie with matching sarong shawl was a bit Florida retirement condo, but she was working it – and didn't even need the inbuilt support paneling or complimentary catheter.  

Will anyone match Natalie?  For pure talent, I don't think so, but Susanna has a fair amount of natural ability; if she pairs that with A Journey, maybe she could snatch a win...  After all, a significant part of the Strictly hardcore hate a trained dancer – RINGAH is a right old dirty word in some quarters, and whilst Natalie isn't quite living Van-Outen-Gate, it's not far off.  

Anyway, I'm delighted to see Susanna and Spexy Kevin getting on really well – despite the lack of fizz when they first met (probably as Susanna had only seen him glasses-free).  My crush on Kev develops apace as we watch him use football metaphors to teach dance - all the more impressive as I do not like football.  Their Viennese waltz certainly suited Love Week and Susannah danced well, in spite of wearing Wonder Woman Christmas decorations on her wrists (hardly the height of romance).  She also made it through the spins without vomming – mind you, Kev had helpfully choreographed lots of close hugging to recover from the dizziness.   

Aljaz also showed some generous choreographing – getting Abbey to jive from a sitting position, so she didn't get overly knackered.  Clearly Abbey has potential, but I wasn't too impressed this week.  Possibly I couldn't see past those terrible school girl socks over high heeled sandals – it might be on trend as a look (literally no idea), but yurgh.  Not wishing to dwell on the appearance-based bitching (by which I mean, 'dwelling on the appearance-based bitching'), I didn't rate Abbey's eye make-up either.  Oddly, that Twiggy look wasn't a great one for a girl with very striking eyes – it made her look quite toothy and sleepy, which isn't the ideal energetic Jive look.  Take note, all women and drag queens – if the model (“and TV presenter” ahem) can't work a style...

Iveta is therefore still the queen of sixties make-up, though this week she was rocking an American Smooth glamour puss stage-door stalker look.  Iveta and Mark are playing an excellent game, if you ask me; after two well danced but erring on the comedic routines, they toned down the comedy and upped the dance this week, before the judges could have a pop at the wrong emphasis.  Of all Len's seVENS, this was one of the better routines I think, even if the crazed-Lithuanian-fan-with-a-big-man-fetish-ends-up-in-relationship-with-the-object-of-her-affections is a bit of a bizarre one.

Of all the new pros, poor Anya is having the least impact – couple chemistry is EVERYTHING in Strictly and so far, she and Patrick Casualty haven't really thrown much personality in our faces.  Everything is nice and sweet and sweet and nice, but, it's also a little boring.  I remember very little about their foxtrot – possibly that Patrick was wearing a velvet jacket? (Nope, pinstripe.)  It was to... um.  Nope.  Sorry.  Maybe the latin will have more of an impact.  It's guns time, Mr Robinson.  When in doubt, whip 'em out.

Speaking of arms, hello Ben Rugby doing a rumba.  THAT was an improvement, wasn't it?  I'm talking about the dancing, OBVZ.  Mind you, it helped that Kristina was writhing with every last fibre of her uber bendy dance being to sell this thing – am amazed she didn't collapse at the end and pass out such was her dedication.  Certainly I needed a sit down afterwards.  (Not really – I was already sitting down and stuffing my face with delicious pizza.)  

Less impressive was, I'm afraid, our Rachel, who I think could be the early 'shock' exit in the next few weeks.  Sure, she's stunning, which hides a multitude of sins, and sure she's got Pasha, which provides a multitude of swoon, but in the end... she's just not that able, is she?  But I do like her, even though I'm probably the exact opposite of her target market (namely, all dads 'forced' to watch the show).  My working theory is that Rachel was actually grown in a genetically modified lab under the project name: Gorgeous Brainy TV Lady Wot Won't Intimidate The Older Men Folk And Will Therefore Help Man Show Ratings All While Women Don't Hate Her Either.  I mean how else do you explain it?

My god, are we nearly done yet?  Who's left.  Ah yes, Deb and Fi, as they are not known.  They did well, I thought – they both provided strong performances which were highly enjoyable, even though I probably prefer a dance where Anton gets booted in the shins.  I note that Anton was wearing baggy white slacks AND a longer jacket for this week's waltz – taking no chances that there might be some additional trouser silhouette on show.  Meanwhile Deborah's quickstep dress was also a wise Wardrobe call – I liked it rather a lot.  She is totally slipping Wardrobe some dragon money.

Is that it?  Of course not.  For I have, of course, saved the best til last. I ask for a respectful hush then a rousing whooping and a hollering, for it is time.  BRACE YOURSELVES AS WE WELCOME.... 

Dave Myers and his partner Karen Hauer performing their incredible paso doble!  

Or, as Dave calls it, their “paso do-ba-lay”.  Look, I know I should know better, but the fact of the matter is this – I just bloody loved it.  For me, the clincher was the moment when he did the horizontal V sign at Karen The Bull with one arm, attempted a flamenco pose with the other, whilst his face... well, according to Bruno, his face looked like he had smelt a “butt cheese”.   But to me, Dave's face was channeling the conviction of a matador DOMINATING HIS ANIMAL.  It was hilarious and wonderful and his capework was exceptional.  I voted for him five times - and no regrets.

Yes, there comes a point where the comedy hits its limit and it's not right for truly strong dancers to be sacrificed for a Nancy, but we are far from that point at this stage.  Right now, I'd be happy for Dave to take out Julien, Rachel, Patrick, Fiona, Deborah and maybe even Mark and Ben.  Settle in for some special performances to come, peeps - and even if you don't like the 'dances', no-one with a heart can resist Dave's backstage chat.  When Tessa assumed that he needed a sit down, and he happily replied that he was fine – my, how we chuckled.

In the end, it was a pretty cracking week really, in spite of the lurrrve theme.  I very much enjoyed Ola and James' ten year anniversary pro dance – it was nice of James to double dip for his dance-wedding whilst Ola made the effort by wearing a wedding dress tutu that revealed her pants as she span down the aisle.  Kristina was also excellently cast as head bridesmaid –  newly single and ready to get so drunk even Anton might be on the cards, even if that bitch Bruno caught the bouquet.  

The pro-partner swapping continued on Sunday – just as I thought I'd got a handle on it, Aljaz 'boyfriend of Janette' danced with Iveta, then he and Aliona got paired up.   Regardless of my feelings for la Vilani, boy, can she dance – and all the better in a casual white summer shirt dress which minimises any Betty Boop-inspired pout’n’wiggle and forces her to concentrate on the beauty of movement.  (This is a GOOD THING, Aliona.)   Iveta also got to dance with Anton as well as Aljaz.  Well, I say 'dance' - she flew around in a harness, whilst Anton donned Simon Cowell high-waisters and made half-hearted attempts to waft his arms in her general direction.

Off the dance floor, Bruce was back and.... well, I coped.  As for la Daly, it was both Tessdressmess AND Tessdressyes – so we shall chalk this up as a relative Tessdresssuccess.  I did not care for Sunday's tangerine dream with chesty landing strip – there was really no need for a flesh coloured intra-boob gusset cut into the front of that dress.  Sunday's black number, however, was just the right side of little girl party dress and, shock upon shock, it fitted her!!!  Not a wonky boob or gut mirage in sight!  Claudia wears what she wears and was generally magnificent, as ever.  I still can't get over the shininess of her hair.

The competition is kicking in now, people, I think.  I suspect Julien will be next (comedy fact: my iPhone auto-corrects 'Julien' to 'JULIEN', like it knows how much he enjoys yelling), but after that, I really can't call it.  The Dave effect will wear off eventually, but I have a feeling he'll mow down some 'better' dancers in his hairy motorbike path....  (And for now, I hope he does.)  Oh, the excitement!  Keeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep watching!

Series 11 – Week 2

Well, we can’t claim to be surprised, can we?  Bye bye Tony, back to your life of Floridan sunshine and golf – I think you'll be ok, though you will wonder what the bloody hell your agent was thinking.  I'm also not too sure what Craig and Bruno were thinking – they were utterly vile to poor Tony.  We all knew he was woeful (we have eyes), but there was no need to stick the dance boot in quite so hard.  Why not focus on the positives – he completed the dance!  Let this be a lesson to all would-be entrants, DO NOT ADMIT TO HAVING NEVER WATCHED THE SHOW.  Bruno's vanity cannot take it.

Sorry to sweepstaker Laura, who loses her pound, and farewell to Aliona - your attempt to bring back floral bermuda shorts was mercifully short-lived but at least you got a beach holiday out of it.  And I did appreciate how she made the theme of their charleston 'I’ll throw in some Wii Golf and then I literally could not give a shit anymore - sure, Wardrobe, feel free to stick me in a Madge from Neighbours wig as I am done with this crapola’.  Come the last dance, you almost couldn't see her for dust.  I never thought I'd say this, but I have truly missed Natbot Lowe.

I wasn’t sure who Tony would face in the dance-off.  James Jordan has too much experience and steely competitive spirit to guide Vanessa directly to elimination and Dave Hairy Biker was just too wonderful for my mind to even entertain a hint of the possibility that he might be for the chop.  Mark, Deb and Fiona danced too well, so I suppose that only left Julien, who hilariously seemed to entirely misunderstand the very concept of a dance-off and was prematurely ejaculating his goodbyes at Tess before he’d even danced.  And like the judges were going to pick Tony - even over Julien?!  Ha!

I suppose the trouble with Julien's ker-azeballs tango (well, apart from the limited dance ability displayed by Mr Macdonald) was that there was just too much going on for a human brain to digest in one go, but it wasn't so good that anyone would want to go through that sensory overload more than once.  The best I can offer is a list of words – feel free to imagine them shouted in a Welsh accent (I understand if you'd rather not): Thrones Candlelight Massive Banquet Table Julien Matador Chiffon Sleeves Shoulder Pads Crystals More Crystals Diamanté Trouser Spurs Again Some Crystals WWF WTF Champion Belt Pop Socks Broaches On Your Brogues Marie-Antoinette Jeanette Manrara ManRARA ¡MANRARA! Hot But Overpowdered The Video For Mr Vain Meets Can't Speak French Strictly Singers Gaga Drowned Cat My Ears My Ears.

Phew.

Anyway, it was inevitable – and Julien gets another chance to out-fablas Cher. Err good luck.

And now a break from Strictlycad tradition and a (rather boring) word about structure.  Usually I blog the couples like this:

1. Loser
2. Dance off survivor
3. OMG whoever was totes the best
4. Sometimes two people were OMG totes the best so them too
5. 'Comedy' dance

And then it's basically bitchy sniding in order of Strictlycad whim, where I'll chat about whoever pops into my head next, before mopping up the rest and wondering which one I've inevitably forgotten.  (Cue plug for Ultimate Strictly - an AMAZING WEBSITE, perfect for all your Strictly blogging needs.)

But, frankly, with fifteen couples in the mix, the usual blog whimsy structure is asking for trouble, teeth gnashing, hair pulling, tears and shouts of BUT WHICH BLOODY CELEB HAVE I MISSED FOR GAWD'S SAKE, I'VE EVEN REMEMBERED RACHEL GODDAMMIT.  Therefore, discipline is needed.  A system of sorts.  So, kids *deep breath* I'm going to go chronological.  If Tess can manage, I'm sure we can too.  I might even use handy numbers!  Revolutionary.  Normal service will be resumed next week.  Or maybe the week after.  Or possibly when we're down to 12 couples, or never.

We begin with the Saturday preamble shamble: No Bruce, which means no awkward thigh grab.  Bruce is ill, so we wish him a good recovery - I recommend lengthy, lengthy rest, and in fact, why not take next week off too Brucie?  I’m happy for my licence fee to support your sick pay - for your own good, of course.  The upshot is that wonderful Claudia's on subbing duties and looks ENTIRELY MARVELLOUS in a green and black dress of immaculate taste and hair so shiny Julien Macdonald will want a swatch to boost the reflective nature of his sequin collection.  Even Tess has stepped up – sure, she's wearing a glittery floor-length wetlook bin bag, but her figure looks fantastic.

That's the housekeeping taken care of – let's get ready for some highly organised, number-based blogging!

Couple #1. Susanna Reid and her partner Kevin Clifton, dancing the tango. Susanna had an excellent mohican French plait and danced fiercely, but there was a major costume issue for me: an excess of ice white, a colour which has no place in a tango, ESPECIALLY not in stiletto form.  The second disappointment was that Kev From Grimsby was not wearing his horn-rimmed glasses, which means I fancy him precisely not at all - whereas as soon as he puts them on, it's all HELLO, why Mr Clifton, with your spectacles on, I can totally understand why you've bagged Karen Hauer.  It might seem like an odd trigger, but the Kev From Grimsby's Glasses Fetish is an Actual Thing, and I know because my Twitter timeline goes utterly mental when he puts his specs on. (I've even developed my own hashtag ‘#spexy’ and if you think *that's* excessive, someone's account got suspended this week for excessive use of the term 'sexglasses'.  Resistance is futile, frankly.)

Couple #2. We've dealt with Poor Tony and Teflon Aliona.  I propose we move on.  No-one needs to be reminded.

Couple #3. From worst to (one of the) best (see, this is more or less how I'd blog it anyway, numbers schumbers!) with Natalie ‘Corrie’ Gumede and Artem's brilliant waltz.  The production tried to shoehorn in some jeopardy by claiming that Natalie gets really dizzy in practice and MIGHT FALL DURING THE DANCE, but we all knew that she was going to nail it and lo, she did, with the first nines of the series.  A deserved score too – mainly for the crazy sharp head whips she's nicked off Natbot.  I hope the British public don't punish Natalie Gumede for being so good so soon.  They can punish Artem for not wearing his Cossack Bootaloons though.

Couple #4. Dave Hairy Biker and his partner Karen Hauer.  To be honest, I didn’t care what they did this week – I'm still buzzing from that cha cha (go on watch it again), which will most likely remain my dance of the series.  Karen looked adorable in her fifties housewife chic (perfectly channelling Oona Chaplin from The Hour - a reference many of you may sadly miss, as it got cancelled, despite being the best drama the BBC had put out since State of Play, so booo to that).  Dave, in an ivy green suit, was... well, sure, it wasn’t great from a technical perspective (limited natural rhythm and the lifts needed a bit of cranking), but the whole thing was still utterly joyful and brought a giggle to the face.  Dave's effort and concentration is certainly admirable and so what if he had pan hands – there was a clear food theme.

NB: Sod kisses, I like my eggs in the morning fried.

Couple #5. Patrick Casualty and Anya.  I wish I could fully get behind my sweepstakees, but there's just something lacking this week.  Chemistry, perhaps?  Though I appreciated the effort they both put into their training VT, fully committing to pretending they were having fun 'letting loose' at the club, when the whole thing was clearly filmed at 3pm with no access to the cocktail menu – there's only so much atmosphere a light-up dance floor can convey in and of itself.  I couldn't really get on board with their sardine tin tango (or whatever that weird wind-up key thing was supposed to be), though Beat It was a better choice than I had feared.  Also, I know Patrick is buff and all, but this is a family show - take it up a size, Wardrobe.  No-one wants Casualty to have a chaffing incident to deal with.

Couple #6.  Deborah Dragon and Robin Windsor.  Oh Bobby, a cha cha to Respect?  Not straying far from your comfort zone, are you, darling?  Still, Deborah seemed to enjoy it and pulled it off pretty well, given the form that older women and latin dances have on this show.  “That was H - O - T!” said Tess – or possibly, “H.R.T”, it's hard to tell with her track record.  I love Robin, but do wonder why he keeps choreographing himself super fast spins that he doesn't always pull off balance-wise.  Maybe it's to big up his celeb.

Couple #7. Rachel and Pasha.  Wherein Pasha is dressed as a half peeled banana.  Rachel seems a lovely girl, but there's no way she should have ended up above Fiona and Mark in the leaderboard, Pash or no Pash.  Her salsa was a hot mess of ungainly limbs being flipped and some enforced bum shaking, all punctuated with a forced smile that screamed 'HELP HELP HELP HELP NO’.  She did look good in her ginger fringing though.  I suppose I should support a fellow Oxford University grad, but she didn’t demonstrate the sharpest mind in the pack by shouting “yay!” when Darcey gave her a 5 whilst the rest of the Tesspit stayed resolutely silent.

Couple #8. James Jordan and Feltz.  Mr Cad was tiling our bathroom on Saturday night and managed to time his return to the living room the instant Feltz finished, so TEN for timing.  As for Vanessa's waltz, it seemed that James had wisely choreographed a series of mini spins and 'running in hold' rather than any real waltz steps, but the main blatant vote-puller was choreographing a storyline which was basically: 'Vanessa learns to overcome the pain in her life by falling in love with the emotional power of dahhhhnce, but will she be so overcome that she'll break down in tears mid-dance, and possibly chalk some evocative emotional words on the dance-floor'.  Feltz made it through tear-free, you'll be indifferent to hear.  The best bit was Claudia saying “If Vanessa's waltz brought a tear to your eye – er, in a good way, call ...” and James Jordan taking genuine offence, ready to kick off, before remembering that the world LOVES Claudia and he'd be a fool to take her on, and forcing his sulk into a grimace-smile.

Couple #9. Our dance-off victors Julien Macdonald and Jeanette ¡Manrara! - already blogged, innit.  By the way, bravo to Jeanette for making full use of the probs budget and getting a full length banquette table wheeled in.  Props for props, you might say.  Let’s move swiftly on, shall we?

Couple #10. Fiona Fullerton and Anton de Beke.  And, incredibly, an Anton latin that didn't make me want to hurl a brick at the TV screen, in spite of his gamekeeper's tweed waistcoat – all the rage in the streets of Havana.  (Not that I have a brick at hand during the show.  The risk of using it is probably too high.)  Fiona could have turned out a really strong performance if she hadn't messed it up at the end, which she happily signalled by sticking out her tongue and openly talking about it at the judges' bench.  The judges were kind though – Darcey was very impressed by Fiona’s “triple spin into that plank”, to which, uncharacteristically, Anton did not react in the slightest  – turns out that’s because he was dealing with a plank of his own.  Yup, people, a deBekerection live on national TV.  Why mention it?  Cause I can't unsee it, so you're all going to have to suffer that particular eye bleach.

Couple #11. Mark Benton and Iveta Supersharpshooter.  Mr Cad hasn't really seen much of Iveta and although he suggested she looks like an “anorexic hamster”, I think he's found a pro-dancer to replace Katya in his affections.  He keeps repeating “I haff some exercises for you” and looking terrified yet delighted - apparently it's the way she “stands dead straight like a school marm/Bond villain”.  Bless.  Mark and Iveta's salsa wasn't really a salsa, but Mark has real potential I think.  However, they must NEVER let his hair be styled into a greasy Bieber EVER AGAIN.  That was awful!  On the other hand, Iveta's cat eyes and tennis ball cheekbones were truly designed to be made up in that sixties way.  She looked fabulous.

Couple #12. Sophie EB and Brendan Cole.  WHAT a performance!  From Sophie anyway – it really was an excellent charleston; Gatsby cool, perfectly suited to Sophie’s slightly awkward Bambi giraffe style.  AND she looked incredible in that spangly playsuit – truly incredible when you remember that the laws of human nature dictate that no mortal being looks good in a playsuit, spangly or otherwise.  The only downside – Brendan, and his disturbing insistence on choreographing several lifts which involved face to crotch or crotch to face.  I suspect that’s why he's been barred from charlestonning until now.

Couple #13. Ben Rugby Cohen and Kristina, and their waltz – it's still the Colin Salmon height problem, only with added gun and chest muscle to get your arms around. (No complaints, though, AMIRIGHT?)  It was a fine but forgettable romance-by-numbers waltz: candlelight – check, fouffy skirt – check, man torso too stacked to get a jacket round – check. 

The real bombshell was Tessa (if that's what Dave calls her, that's what I shall call her) announcing that next week is Love Week – what the ACTUAL WHAT?!?!  A theme - that's not even a real theme – already?!!!  My Twitter timeline broke down in apoplectic rage and quite right too.  Not happy.

Couple #14. Abbey Clancy and Aljaz ‘Ally-ash’ Skorjanec doing the cha cha – in which Ally-ash was forced to wear a hideous shirt of pink and sick green polyester and his nipples did all they could to escape the dance-floor, such was their embarrassment at being associated with that shirt.  Abbey was good again - with those pins and that stomach it's hard to look bad - but she still had a James Jordan sulkathon at the end, thinking she'd messed up.  I’m not warming to her, if I’m honest, but I remain bedazzled by the Team Abbjaz's ridonkulous beauty.  So much so that I just used the word 'ridonkulous'.  I do apologise.

Couple #15.  ATD and Ola doing an American Smooth.  In case you hadn't heard (YOU HAD), Ashley had a baby this week – and whilst the adorbs factor will garner some votes, I’d guess that one section of society will not be phoning in to vote for Ashley: new Mums, all imagining how pleased they'd be if their husband eschewed paternity leave and pissed off to dance with Ola Jordan whilst they had to stay home alone and deal with a gorgeous but entirely helpless being requiring constant help, even with the very few things it can actually manage: namely pooing, feeding and sleeping, ALL WHILE HAVING TO DEAL WITH THE REPERCUSSIONS OF JUST HAVING HAD TO PUSH SAID TINY HUMAN OUT OF THEIR VAGINAS.  So well done ATD – you done a dance on national TV.  But your wife done a birth.  She wins.

AND LO WE HAVE MADE IT TO THE END!  Well of Saturday.  I can jack the numbers.  Yessss!

My main notes from Sunday are: OH MY GOD PRO-DANCE!!!  That was a CRACKER.  Sure it lacked bootaloons, but Artem’s outfit was still highly special.  Chiffon shirt, slit to the navel, yadda yadda, seen that before, but then HELLO RED WONDERBRACES!  Like a manly push up bra – hoiking the chesticles up and over.  Ridiculous, of course, but eye-catching nonetheless.  Also eye-catching, those ball-poppingly snug trousers.  Mercy!  We also got a better sense of the pro-pairings – Artem and Jeanette Manrararararararararara, Aljaz and Iveta (which is definite wife-swapping, seeing as Jeanette and Aljaz are an item), Pash and Anya, Kev and Karen, and then the usual suspects, with Anton on a lonely limb.  (I suspect there will be a ballroom reshuffle when the du Beke services are required for some snoozesome foxtrotting, but how merciful to be saved from Anton in chiffon and braces for now.)  It was a frenzied and energetic performance, with lady legs and hair extensions flying all over the shop.  Ace stuff.

On the #tessmessdress front Claudia’s obviously having a good influence on la Daly, who looked fine enough in a black and white tube dress.  Sadly, the same cannot quite be extended back, as Claude was in a jumpsuit.  The best I can offer is that, as jumpsuits go, it actually looked ok, and the shoulder detail was charming.  But but but... why not just make it a dress?

In other news, Matt Goss performed a highly enjoyable swing version of When Will I Be Famous, which was... unexpected.  (Let’s see if Harry Styles turns up on Series 43 of Strictly Come Dancing to do a crooner cover of What Makes You Beautiful.)  It also struck me that ‘the yoot’ won't have a clue who or what Bros might be, and will think it's pronounced to rhyme with ‘hoes’ or ‘clothes’, as if it were a line in a Budweiser commerical ("Dudes!"  "Bros!").  Ah well. 

By the way, if you’re wondering what happened to twinny Luke, fear not, as he’s a Hollywood actor now (of course he is?!?!) and a successful one at that - Wikipedia tells me that “he won the Ultimate Badass Award at the PollyGrind Film Festival for his role in the zombie-vampire film The Dead Undead”.  Fancy.  ALSO – and this is the beauty/danger of Wikipedia, I learn that Craig Logan co-managed Pink and Matt Goss has authored a children's book called “Bear Crimbo”.  Who knew?!

I fear we’ve gone off topic.  Let’s leave it there, before I start to tell you what Let Loose are up to these days.  Brace yourselves for Love Eggs Week next Saturday and the return of Bruce to 'run' the show.  In the meantime feel free to keeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep Wikipediaing!