*standing ovation for Mark and Ivetamazing* - fare thee well you lovely, gorgeous, wonderful people. What a fab-u-lous pairing they have been, and surely Iveta's role as a flexible-of-leg Strictly Ledge is already set? It's always awesome seeing a genuinely comic woman on TV, and Iveta was able to sneak that past the sexists by being gorgeous, foreign and deadpan, so that BOOM!, we were already giggling when we realised she was intentionally being brilliant and hilarious.
Ivetamazeballs concluded proceedings in one of her finest outfits to date: Rum Tum Lady Tugger – bringing slinky femininity to that most testosteroney of Cats, though Mr Cad did have trouble trying to determine where her weave ended and her costume began. Although I'm really sad to see Mark and Iveta go, I imagine that Mark's knees are utterly delighted. At least the rest of Mark was able to go out on a high after Sunday's dance-off - I thought they pulled out a better performance of their Lion King Samba than the Saturday night attempt, where Mark had a slight air of being tired and emotional - though not tired and emotional in the same way I was on Friday night at my office Christmas do, where I had a bit of strop because the DJ manning a rival office party in the next room was playing Buffalo Stance, whilst we had to suffer a DJ playing songs released THIS YEAR - to an empty dancefloor, obvz. Like, hellooooo, know your late-twenties/thirty-something audience, young man. (Eventually he relented and put some Backstreet Boys on. It was a start.)
So that's Ben's £1 which leaves us - but after two years of drawing Anton, making it to December is a result.
I was wondering if I needed to adjust my set during the dance-off, such was the orange nature of proceedings. I'm still not sure who won the tan-off between Ashley, Ola and Iveta, but there was some quadruple dip going on, I reckon. Even the poo slacks (back with added tail!) had been tangoed – and not in a good ‘ballroom dance’ way.
Although it probably wasn't fair, it wasn’t entirely surprising to see ATD in the dance-off - not during rumba week anyway. Oh rumbas... :-( Ashley might have been wearing the world's most billowy white trousers, but we still had to adopt Rumba Mode to watch most of his Aladdin tribute, peering at the TV squinty eyes through splayed fingers, on the corner of awkward and cringe - though we are talking about a song covered by Peter and Jordan, so it was perhaps to be expected.
Anyway, Ashley and Ola weren't ready to leave - not this week! After all, no-one rumbas like La Jordan in a catsuit. And what a catsuit! Gladiators meets Syncronised Swimteam meets Can't Get You Out Of My Head meets Arabian Nights (meets acrylic Geordie Shore wig in need of serious de-matting). And the upshot is this: they’ve got one dance-off under their belt and the rumba is behind them, so that’s good news for Team Ola-ash. And good for us too, as we won't have to watch the final sexy pose again, where Ashley performed a rather unfortunate Touching Cloth face.
Susanna was lucky to survive the bottom two, I think; as popular as she and Kev may be, she needs a great dance to pull through again next week. I didn’t really enjoy their messy quickstep and the VT didn't help, as I spent much of the subsequent dance worrying about whether they'd tumble to the floor when they stepped over that sofa. Not wishing to heap on the criticism, but... well, doing it anyway.... I wasn't a fan of Susanna's dress either - that lycra to mid-thigh wasn't as friendly to an excellent figure as it should be. (Don't take a leaf out of Tess' Book of Unflattering Materials for Milfs, Susanna - you can do better than that.) However, props, as ever, for the trademark energy levels from the pair of them. Seriously, they could out-Tigger Tigger. It’s natural too, I’m sure - if it were chemically-induced, we’d know, as a perky drug that effective would pummel the opposition, and Kev'n'Suse would be sitting on an Avon Barksdale style empire by now. (I realise Breaking Bad is the go-to drug reference du jour, but Mr Cad and I stalled partway through Season Two in the summer, and it’s taking all my willpower not to just Wikipedia the rest, so I’m sticking with The Wire for now.)
Plenty of energy for Abbey and Aljaz's Saturday Night Salsa too and not even Craig could resist the power of disco. I didn't FOURTY! love it, but I did enjoy it greatly, though not because of Aljaz' white suit ACTUALLY. We don't always get a salsa placed so late on in the series, but I like it when we do, as it didn't end up being the usual stompy arm-tangle when handled by a more experienced celeb like Abbey - though perhaps that's because it wasn't really a salsa, but a heady mix of disco and Travolta pastiche.
It seemed at first that we weren't going to see Craig wield his ten paddle, not after he hilariously pissed all over the ten party for Anya and Patrick’s Chitty Chitty Bang Bang Charleston. I think I’m with Craig really (sorry sweepstakees) - firstly, it's hard for anyone to follow Sophie's charleston, and secondly, as I’ve said before, I don’t think charleston benefits from a theme - it's kerazy enough on its own, thanks. Still, there were some great lift combos to distract from Anya’s flammable grandma nightie dress and an excess of sweaty gurning.
Sophie’s outfit had something of the nightie about it too, but FRANKLY if you’re going to Viennese Waltz to something from the Sound of Music, you should be dressed in curtains or a wimple - end of. I also have a further complaint - about the on stage props. Roses – check. Bright copper kettles – check. Brown paper packages tied up with strings – check. Kittens... WHY NO KITTENS?!?! Next year, I DEMAND KITTENS! As for the dance, I know it was beloved by Twitter, but to me - meh. It felt like there was a bit too much Brendan-based dragging. Soz.
Mind you, at least it was based on a cracker of a film, unlike Natalie and Artem’s American Smooth, where... well, to be blunt, Dreamgirls is the worst film I've ever seen. I mean, I say 'seen', but my sister and I had to fast forward through most of the second half, such was our frustration and rage at its unbelievable crapness - Sorry Bey, but it is UTTERLY TERRIBLE. (And that's the view from two women who have made it through more than one Bring It On film.) At least my cranky vibes didn’t hinder Natalie from pulling out a wonderful dance, though I wasn't a fan of the desperate Don't Leave Meeeeee floor dive at the end. On the other hand, I was a fan of Artem’s hilariously pompous valour jacket with glitter bird dropping décor.
So, speaking of ‘fashion’... oh Tess. Oh TessTess. Saturday’s crochet and jewel corset in 'sexy' beige was a total return to TessTessDressDressMessMess. It probably needed about three or four thousand more hoiks to get the boob area shaping less, well, gravity-assisted, and the stomach rather less... full. I'm not saying she should force herself into a painful girdle just to have difficulty breathing for a hour or so, no no. What I'm saying is this: WEAR A DRESS WHICH FITS WITHOUT WHALEBONE PAIN AND SUPPORTS YOUR DALYS IN PERKY COMFORT. It CAN be done, TessTess. I promise. I mean, you didn’t quite manage it on Sunday, but at least that black number wasn’t quite so... what’s a nice way of saying ‘droopy’? And it's true that you weren’t wearing a necklace made of smarties, like Darcey was. (Baby steps?)
In more positive news, it’s that time of year when we get more pro-dances, which is good. I feel like we’ve seen those sailor suits en mass before, but these are still tough economic times so I can understand the need to recycle a tried and tested uniform fetish which appeals to a range of sexualities. And Anton got upgraded to Captain of Minimal Dancing, which we can all commend.
I was also glad to see Janette ¡Manrara! leading the charge and the high leg kicks, in those HELLO scarlet dresses during that Fame! number. Fringingmazeballs. I hope ¡Manrara! comes back next year for more, and not just so that she brings her handsome beau with her. (Honest. HONEST!)
Kevin and Karen are welcome back too - if it were up to me. Though their pro dance, whilst excellent, did have me reaching for my rumba fingers to hide behind - it felt a little intrusive to me, like we were peering into an on-our-way-to-the-bedroom situation. (S'ok guys, you can keep that to yourselves - we get it! You're into each other!)
I also wanted to shield my face from the BBC’s continued affront on my VERY SPECIFIC demands regarding the use of conventionally attractive female backing musicians - I actually couldn’t believe that there were EVEN MORE stringbots (and even a harpbot) sexily playing at Alfie Boe's feet. Seriously? Clearly I’m all for supporting female employment, but pffffff - are the finest backing fiddlers (cause heaven forbid we should have several weeks in a row of female classical stars headlining Strictly!) really all anonymised white slender elegant lady ones? I’m not sure it’s the strongest display of the BBC’s commitment to celebrating diversity.
So we’ve made it through Musicals Week unharmed and it’s nearly time for the next batch - including the swingathonahoy. Sure, the swingathon is the hottest mess of the lot, but it has its moments - I’ll be looking forward to spotting sabotage kicks and Ola having an almighty strop when it’s her time to leave the dance floor. As for the final - yes, here comes the F-Word - I’ve decided I’d like to see a Natalie-Abbey-Patrick final, with a Natalie win. It’s a head over heart over financial gain thing, but there you go. Truth is, anyone can get there now, so who knows how I'll feel next week. Keeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep wondering.
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