Series 11 – Week 7

So who would fail at the final pre-Brighton, sorry, pre-Blackpool hurdle?  Well, no real surprises - it was time for our Dave (Dave-Dave not Darcey-Dave), bless him.  Karen's last stand was to try and coax Scotland to vote for him, but sadly it wasn't a comical MacTriumph of a MacTango (Mr Cad is Scottish so such racial stereotyping is MacFine) and so it had to be his time (MacTime).  Sorry Sweepstaker Jo, that means it's your pound's time to go too.

I know the power of the kilt - Mr Cad was wearing one the evening we met (the power of whisky is also noted), but sadly it didn't work for Dave on this occasion.  The unfortunate reality is that Dave actually attempting to ballroom dance wasn't as entertaining as Dave just doing his thang with a very vague nod to a ballroom or latin style, in a silken shirt slit to the navel, whilst Karen wore a complimentary fruit basket on her head.

However, well done to the Wonderful Orchestra for managing enough Proclaimers' influence without going full Leith pastiche.  (Cue plug for the wonderful Sunshine on Leith film, which will nearly bring you as much cheesy joy as Dave's cha cha, though apols for the term 'cheesy joy'. Not sure that's such a seller...)

Of all the 'joke' contestants we've seen over the years, Dave has been my favourite, because he really did seem to utterly love the experience, and his partner, rather than appearing to endure the whole thing for cash and a shot at the panto circuit.  It felt like we were laughing with Dave, rather than at him.  I think the Hairy Dancers simply lost steam a week or two ago, and the cheesy joy started to mould slightly.  I'm just going to remember the good times, personally: the Cuban Pete salsa (tears of joy), the Meatloaf Paso (tears of wonder) and, best of all, Does Not Quite Move Like Jagger (convulsions of pant-wetting laughter).  It may not have been the polished dancing the final will (hopefully) throw up, but the first half of Strictly would have been relatively dull and uneventful without Dave’s enthusiasm for hair and dance.  We'll remember this series as the Hairy Biker series, and that says a lot.  Here endeth the MacTribute.

As for Dave's dance-off opponent and fellow big man, well, I'd have been sad to lose Mark at this stage, as I think he's a better dancer than the judges (LEN) give him credit for (honestly, what was Len on about on Sunday? His walnuts were in a right old state!).  But more importantly, I cannot allow Ivetamazeballs to be taken away from us just yet.  Yes, the Dr Evil/Chairman Mao costume, with matching white pussy, was fantastic, but really their rumba was all about one thing only: Iveta's spray on lamé catsuit, in all its golden camel-toed glory.  (Poor Ola, last week Karen slagged her dancing skills, this week Iveta reclaims the catsuit. Harsh stuff.) 

Iveta Luckypeashooter has been the revelation of the series, as far as I'm concerned.  Did you see her wish Patrick Happy Birthday on It Takes Two (27.40)?  Genuine quote: “Next time I see you, I gonna hug you, I gonna kiss you and I gonna KRRRRUSH YOU *dramatic pause* VIZ LOVEFF. I'm not ready to miss what she choreographs next (I'm guessing another slow mo leg extension) and nor should you be. Else I vill KRRRRUSH YOU! Viz a giant crushing machine (*dramatic pause*) of loveff.

At the other end of the leaderboard, well, no Natalie for starters, as she fainted during rehearsals and had to be taken to the hospital.  Horrible stuff, and I hope she'll be ok - it's just not the same without a performer of her quality on the dance floor.  I was really, really looking forward to seeing her 'Tonight Matthew I'm Going To Be Tina Turner' jive to Proud Mary, which promised super sharp kicks and flicks and plenty of Tina Twerker, and which I'm sure would have been sensational. Not least because her hair looked MAGNIFICENT and Artem was going to be jiving in orange and pink paisley with clashing braces.  Hopefully they'll get to do it in the final, complete with Chigvintsev medallion and Gumede wonderfro.

Instead, Patrick took a turn at the top of the leaderboard - and well deserved too, I think. That was a cracking American Smooth - especially the hopscotch on the stairs bit, and there were brief glimpses of Anya and Patrick chemistry to boot.  Sure it was a shame that Anya's skirt got caught and there was a slight lift kerfuffle at the end, but I think my sweepstake £1 could be safe for another week or two at this rate – depending, of course, on when he's forced to do a rumba.  That could spell danger, and financial inconvenience, ahead.

Mind you, Twitter wasn't hugely happy that Patrick was the recipient of Dave’s ten paddle, with plenty commenting that Susanna had the dance of the night.  I’m never a massive fan of the waltz, but I agree that this one was very lovely, even if it opened with Susanna shivering (get her a Sara Lund jumper then!) before auditioning for either a hand cream or a fairy liquid ad; rubbing her hands sensually as Kevin arrived to whirl her around.  It’s hard to avoid schmaltzy mush with the waltz, but this was just the right side of the romantic cliché for me - though I bet little girls up and down the country were going NUTS for it and making feminist mothers nervous as they squealed glazed-eyed delight at the peachy pinkness and feathery foufeiness of Susanna's dress.  Hopefully the moment will pass when they realise the inconvenience of dragging several flamingos around the town.

Speaking of flamingo dresses - Ola's quickstep number: drunk famingos on acid, and yet another gown that may not help the worthy Pink Stinks cause (though, I'll be honest, it was a bit too Neon Ballroom Barbie for me).  I actually really enjoyed Ashley and Ola's quickstep, though I'm always a sucker for a quickstep, so the bar was low, to be honest...  But I will admit that I've been a bit mean about Ashley's commitment to rehearsals in the past, as I'd forgotten that he has a full-time job on Hollyoaks, which I'll accept may be fairly time-consuming and not an unreasonable time commitment.  I'm just not getting enough personality through - nice bloke, bit beige.  I mean, think of us bloggers - we need meat for our sarcastic quippery.  Meat or disaster.  Ideally meat.  And cue...

Mr Cohen!  Hi!  Or 'coooeeeeee' as my friend Vix might say (translation: HAS SAID) to an attractive rugby player. 

At first it looked like Kristina was banking on a backflip to get Ben through another week, but I suspect she panicked slightly when it had to be springboard assisted, so JUST IN CASE went for Plan B: ahoy matey, à l'eau, c'est l'heure!  I think most of us (NAUTICAL GAG ALERT) were ‘on board' with that sailor's outfit, especially when such taut white slacks were part of the costume.  (Popeye-popping stuff.) 

As for their dance... Well, we all know that I'd be first in the queue to endlessly swoon at the altar of Ben Cohen, but it's not Strictly Come Big Unit, people, and he is going to need to up the dance ability to win, in my view.  I appreciate that it is harder for a giant hunk of ham muscle to do a sprightly jive and, on balance, it was probably more Jolly Roger than drunken sailor, but still...  It wasn’t AMAZING – and, as Rugby jives go, Austin Healey can rest easy for now.

(And so can Erin – that turquoise jive dress would still be excellent on a pregnant lady.  I do hope she's getting it taken out for her third trimester, when I'm sure jiving will be top of her To Do list.)

Fiona also had some excellent dress action - she's been getting a consistently kind run from Wardrobe, who, let's face it, are picky about their preferred charges.  Fiona's paso didn't quite grab me as much as her dress - it looked jerky and awkward on first view.  But I watched it again closely to see where Anton went wrong (and missed that completely, as my eyes are programmed to mainly avoid Anton) and I decided Fiona wasn't actually too bad at all.  I can't risk watching it a third time, because... well, Anton in a turtleneck and matador trousers that could have gone up a size or four – that’s beyond the call of duty, peeps.  (I mean, I thought Ben's trousers were snug...)

Then again, on the subject of snug trousers - and it is an important one, I accept - it's worth pointing out that there is a thread on the Digital Spy forum called “Aljaž's arse appreciation thread”, which currently runs to three pages and which I have visited for you all in the name of research - it's ok, there is no need to thank me, I take this role seriously, for better, for worse, for arse. In summary, there is much appreciation for said bottom (“peachy deliciousness”, “nom nom”) alongside queries about the identity of the mysterious 'Caron'.  Hot stuff. 

To be honest, not that you'll believe me, I didn't notice the buttock situation during their charleston, as I was too busy wishing I could quickly take hold of Abbey's wig and yank it straight, even though I accept it was purposely asymmetric.  I also wanted to get my scissors out and cut off the hanger tags that were still attached to the shoulders of her dress.  But apart from that, excellent work, obviously.  It's impressive when a dance of theirs engages me to the degree that I forget to drool at Aljaz (bum or other attributes), so seriously bravo.

Another “bravo” to report - from my mum in fact, who is French (Strictement Maman), so can use the word legitimately, without the risk of sounding like a local UKIP councillor judging a WI cake sale – oh the irony.  Strictement Maman doesn't bother with the early stages of the show (“ca m'enerve”), so it was all new to her. And her verdict?  Gushing Gallic support for Brendan and Sophie's Argentine Tango.  As far as I could discern there were two main reasons: 1. The music was “traditional” (yes, by that well-known Argentine band, Los Eurythmicos) and 2. Strictement Maman has long fancied Brendan (that particular gene must be thankfully recessive), which she reiterated to me thusly: “oui, c'est mon chouchou.” (French is such a romantic language, there's nothing like confirming affection by referring to someone as your 'cabbagecabbage'.)  I have to agree that it was a good AT, but, for me, it wasn't an AMAZING one à la Ramps or Beige Rachel.  It certainly had its moments (and a crazylush dress) but I think it needed more oomph of some kind - a bit more tits and teeth perhaps, but in a classy Argentine Tango way.  It's the same old Sophie story - she can't quite chameleon her gawky cool style away.  But, yeGADS, she's gorgeous.

(However, broken record time, and just for the record: 

THE ARGENTINE TANGO SHOULD NOT APPEAR UNTIL THE SEMI-FINALS, ARIIIIIGHT?)

On the other hand, something that should appear, and weekly: Claude and TessTess on the Saturday show.  I'm sorry Bruce-fans, but the show is so much better without him.  The magic was there right from the off, as the awkward Tess thigh rub was replaced by a Gal on Gal paso drop - excellent arm muscles, TessTess! (I know there's not much of Claudia to weigh you down, but still...)  Avid readers will know that I used to loathe ol Tess, but I've gently warmed to her ways (mainly since she stopped sniping evil questions at contestants in the Tesspit) and perhaps if she'd had the camaraderie of La Winkles with her from the start it wouldn't have always been thus.  Course that might have meant that I found it all the harder to slate her DressMess, which would have been a terrible loss, so... well fate, eh?  As it happens, I thought her Saturday purple tribute to Angelina Jolie's leg was rather fetching.  I even went so far as to muse that that’s a few weeks of more or less acceptable outfits we've seen, so good work, Tess.  Well, you know what happens when you let your guard down?

POLTERWANG PANTSUIT HORROR.

Honestly, after all that good work, Sunday was back to an outfit that ghosted Tess with a saggy bum and low slung boobs.  Did no-one tell her to beware the unflatteringness of the embroidered corseted baggyarsed jumpsuit?  The country house curtain bodice (even Maria wouldn't have gone there) with Eiffel Tower effect edging wasn't great, but the trouser end?  Just awful.  I can’t even...

Let’s swiftly move on then, to Sunday’s opening pro number: a tribute to the armed forces or to Pasha's finest moment - the Chelsehhh quickstep?  (Another possibility is that the Wardrobe intern mistyped the fabric order, like Kurt on the Apprentice mistaking centimetres and inches, and ended up with a little more turquoise Lycra than Vicky Gill was expecting.)  

Excellent work from the Puppini Sisters too - not only willing to have the pros dance in little hats to their number, but happy to don matching outfits too.  The Tenors made less of an impression on me (USP: one of them is a bit shorter than the others), but we did get a lovely performance from ¡Manrara! and Aljaz, even if he was wearing yet another number from the Skorjanec Special Manlace collection: a blouse with built-in jacket lapels, no less.  In Tess' defence, at least she wasn't wearing that.

And so it’s time to head Oop North. Well, apart from Darcey - it’s unclear where she’ll end up, but if she’s travelling on that scooter in a perfect arabesque [Editor's note: it was in fact an attitude, as pointed out here - I'm now working through the ensuing trauma], it may take some time, regardless.  As for me, I'm off to see if I can get a seat on the minibus TessTess & Claude are co-driving up the M1 - I can only dream of the banter and mixtape action.  Keeeeeeeeeep beeeeeeeep beeeeeeeeeep.