Squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! Strictly’s back,
bitches, and it’s FINALLY time to take several gratuitous, sequintastic hours
to see who gets paired with whom. (Unless, like me, you have no willpower and
looked it up several days ago on the Godless place that is the Digital Spy
forums, ahem.) The Strictlyfied celebs are about to show off their
double dip spray tans and the efficacy of their Bridget Jones under-girdles,
and we're about to see which unlucky soul has to rumba with Anton. As you
can imagine, my excitement levels are set to HIGH.
I’d also like to
take this opportunity to tell Mr Cad I love him very much and will see him in
December.
First excitement –
NO BRUCE! To celebrate this, we get a
full Brucie VT, but it’s (just about) ok, as the excitement of no Brucie is
(just about) allowing me to handle some Brucie.
The VT is a nifty Brucie’s Angels
pastiche, with Bruce on a mission to gather up the Strictly team using multiple
puns and random items as fake telephones.
He starts with Tess
struggling alone at the dress rail (DOES THIS MEAN SHE’S FIRED HER STYLIST,
DEAR GOD PLEASE) and Claude pretending the Great British Sewing Bee has taught her how to make clothes.
They are primed and ready.
Claudia’s fringe has even been specially trimmed as a concession to
idiots.
The remaining
judges are cast as Bruce’s lackeys, which must have pleased them. Darcey is Miss Moneypenny, Len is a Nazi
chauffeur and Bruno is a bellhop who uses a pregnancy kit to test the
temperature of Bruce’s tea. Craig gets
to make a gag about Bruce’s chin.
Presenters and
judges accounted for, it’s time to
collect up the dancers; Kevin’s at the Grimsby Chip Show in typical Northern
dress of specs and bowtie when Brucie makes the call– inexplicably he leaves a
FULL NEWSPAPER OF CHIPS to rush off to dance.
Bruce then calls the Girlz (Janette, Karen and Kristina), who, with Made
In Chelsea levels of stereotyping, are shopping and pouting, whilst, on the Boyz side, Aljaz is unfortunate enough
to be playing golf with Anton and Brendan (though
there is quite a good gag in there, when Anton answers a golf club phone and calls
Bruce ‘dad’). We then see Natbot
applying mahogany paint varnish to Ola’s naked shoulders in what appears to be a Scandinavian sauna (which will no doubt
incite some of Strictly older gentleman fans to ‘have a moment’). Finally, Pasha, Aliona and Iveta (who, erm, isn’t
Russian, but is foreign, so it’s probably all the same, innit) have been
banished to Siberia to throw fake snowballs and pet huskies. Bruce allows them to sleigh their way back to
Elstree.
No Robin or Artem,
who are injured and dancing with Marty McFly’s mum,
respectively, and still no Katya (booooo) and Ian (booooo). However, we can take gleeful comfort in the thought
that there’s no James Jordan because he’s in the Big Brother house calling
himself the “Brad Pitt of the dance world”.
The opening VT
might be over, but the pace continues, well, a pace... We head to the red
carpet for screaming middle-aged women in M&S diamante, terrified celebs trapped in a giant
glitter ball and a pro-dance routine in an overly confined-space, which
features, dear God, Bruce tap-dancing.
(Still, let us remain magnanimous, as we haven’t got to suffer several
months of it, this time.)
There are also a...
whatever the collective noun is for ‘random drummers with glitter drums’ and
the introduction of a new Strictly dance move which involves legs akimbo and a
downward crouching bounce.
It’s not good.
But no time to
linger, as it’s off the red carpet as we allow the judges their annual dance
interlude: Len goes a little turn with Natbot as Darcey is carried into the studio
by... literally no clue, as it’s all eyes on her AMAZING dress (Mary Poppins
skirt and glitterbox/glue accident t-shirt – truly enviable). Craig then throws caution to his dodgy replaced hip, tangoing with Karen and Aliona, whilst Bruno has another aneurysm, trying to out-pelvic thrust Aljaz and Kev on the desk. But the best bit
comes next as Claudia and Tess get carried on in on thrones, Jewish wedding
stylee, cackling with hysterical glee.
Claude in particular looks disbelievingly thrilled; her face is as happy
as this baby who just pooed
on his father. It’s all
tidied up with a pro dance that involves Anton COPING WITH LATIN. And if that’s not a good omen, I don’t know
what is.
Dancing over, it’s
time to catch a breath and allow Tess and Claudia to... oh nope, my bad – it’s
Bruce who takes on the reigns. Heaven
forbid we just let the women get on with it – they clearly need formal approval
from a man to proceed. In his defence, a
rested Bruce does an unusually well-paced chat in which he says nice things
about Tess and Claude.
And so, at last, it’s
unsupervised Tess and Claude time!
Whoop! To think there was a time
when I despised Tess and couldn’t handle her rude interrogation in the Tesspit
about which celebs fancied their pros - clearly I’ve grown as a person. Tess is looking beautiful of face and fine of
body in a one shouldered monochrome number, which only has minimal phantom wonky nipple. (I’m actually predicting TessDressYes this year, now she doesn’t
have to ward against Brucie’s grabby dance hands.) Claudia has scoured eBay and purchased what
can only be an outfit previously worn by Blanche out of the Golden
Girls at a funeral.
I’m fairly sure this is the look she will channel all series. For the avoidance of doubt, Claudia could wear the poo slacks and she'd still be the bestest.
Claudia then
immediately shows what a pro she is by enthusiastically trailing a boy band
performance without the merest hint of “which will be unutterably shit”. But just before we can get TOO excited,
Bruce drops the clanger that he’ll still be doing Children In Need and The
Christmas Special. Ah well. Baby steps.
It’s (FINALLY) time
to meet the stars of our show!
“Star of
Masterchef, Gregg Wallace”, dressed as the member of staff everyone wants to
avoid at the Christmas Work Party.
“Pop Princess,
Pixie Lott”, in a bright yellow mirkin.
“Wildlife Expert,
Steve Backshall”, looking broad and hunky and adorably cheesy.
“Tennis Coach
(translation: “Mum of Andy”) Judy Murray”, in a red dress second only to
Darcey’s.
“TV presenter and
radio DJ (translation: him off Towie) Mark Wright”, seeming less objectionable
than I might have predicted (I'm drunk on Strictly magic).
“Star of Casualty,
Sunetra Sarker”, pretty in pink, with shiny hair to rival Claude’s.
“Bargain Hunt’s
Antiques Expert, Tim Winnacott”... Hang
on, Bargain Hunt?! I’ve been calling him
Tim Antiques Roadshow to date – shows how much attention I pay. Not that this is the first Bargain
Hunt/Strictly crossover, as Darren ‘Darren and Lilya’ Bennett’s
identical-looking brother was once on Bargain Hunt and... I’ll leave that
anecdote for another time, eh?
“From The
Saturdays, popstar Frankie Bridge”, wearing a bikini which has grown streamers.
“Radio 1 DJ Scott
Mills”, who I LOVE and has an adorable rabbit in headlights excitability in his
gaze.
“This Morning
reporter, Alison Hammond”, beaming in fetching lilac, if that’s not an oxymoron
(it is, for lilac is vile - but Alison is not).
“Rugby star and
model, Thom Evans”, hubba hubba etc.
“Star of Mrs Brown’s Boys, Jennifer Gibney”, foxy in a mullet lingerie dress.
“From Blue, Popstar
Simon Webb”, trying waaaay too hard to look cool in skin tight lace and
crystals. You did Eurovision, Simon –
time to embrace the cheese.
“TV Presenter,
Caroline Flack”, quite incredibly pulling off those high-waisted shorts that
made gorgeously slim Holly Valance look a total heifer.
“And finally,
Eastenders star, Jake Wood”, angry superbaldy.
So we now know who
everyone is then? Well, more or
less? Time for “Ballroom blind date”!
Gregg Masterchef is
up first and all the female dancers stare straight ahead, with full poker face,
whispering 'not me, not me' under their breaths. Clearly Gregg's the boorish
dud to avoid. He’s matched with Aliona,
who doesn't even begin to try and hide how utterly fucked off she is. Mwahaha, I'm starting to warm to Aliona.
Jake Eastenders has
been dressed in latin rather than ballroom, which is probably a mark of
confidence in his abilities. He also looks tense
as hell, but let's blame the nerves for his thundery face of doom as Janette is
announced as his partner. (You can't all
have Ola, Jake.) It’s ok though, as Janette,
all speedy hip thrusts and squealing “YAY YAY YAYS” provides enthusiasm enough
for two. Of course, this is the least one
would expect from a woman whose ten year plan has netted Aljaz as a life partner.
My sister’s #1
crush Steve Backshall is then matched with Ola, which is an absolute RESULT for
la Jordan! After James Jordan’s
incessant tabloid bitching about his wife’s employer, I was convinced that they’d
try and knock her out asap - but such is the power of a sexy
calendar when seeking prime time ratings. Of course it remains to be seen how
snake-hipped Ola’s partner will be (GEDDIT! Snake-hipped. SNAKE-hipped. It’s a scary animal and Steve
is a wildlife... oh never mind). Either way,
we can 100% rely on Ola to expose Steve’s chest when the going gets tough in week three. If in doubt: nudity.
And then the moment
all the lady pros have been waiting for.
Thom Thime. Who’s going to get the
future winner that is Thom ‘utter hotness’ Evans? There's a *dramatic pause* then..... DING DING DING JACKPOT FOR IVETAMAZING, who,
quite wonderfully, completely ignores Thom until she has finished her ‘I win’ pose. Congrats Iveta – that glorious MC
Hammer cha cha with Mark Benton has completely paid off and you've been duly rewarded.
Up in the Tesspit
Balcony, Claudia then earns ALL THE PAYCHECKS by giving Iveta her condolences
that she has been “paired with someone so utterly repellent”, before ripping the
piss that the ordinarily chatterboxy Iveta has been stunned into a
hormone-frenzied silence. Even
Ivetamazing and her apple cheekbones can’t handle the Thom jaw. (My God, can you imagine the facial structure
of their offspring! Vogue are buying the
rights as we speak.)
After all that hot
flushness (just me? Of course not), we are treated to a New Pro Showcase, as
Joanne, Trent and Tristan perform a ménage-à-trois fusion dance on a
podium. As ever, the new boys still have some proving
to do, particularly with Robin and Artem’s pectorals now out of the mix. Sure Trent and Tristan can dance (like, really
dance), but they don’t look like the weights machine and steroids abuse feature
heavily in their gym routines. The Irish
one hasn’t even shaved his chest yet – though perhaps we’ll come to appreciate
a more natural look in due course.
We’re then
subjected to a band called Five Seconds Of Summer, who misleadingly play for
far longer than their name optimistically suggests. They have hair I do not understand and a tune
that does not exist. Karen and Kevin do
a dance which mainly involves Karen sitting on the floor, though I’m not
surprised they weren’t feeling choreographically inspired by that ‘musical’
number.
More match-making
ahoy!
Caroline Flack is
partnered with Pasha, which – well, he must have some dirt on someone, as Pasha
always scores a good'n'lithe'un. (Even
Rachel Riley worked out in the end – sure, she may have been an awkward dancer,
but apparently she and Pasha are now regularly performing a horizontal rumba, so...)
Then again, Pasha probably doesn’t need to
resort to blackmail as who would deny that adorable face anything it asked?
Jennifer’s up next
and Anton grins like he knows he’s his turn, but the producers actually create
an all-Ireland combo of Jenny and Tristan, which is a great call. (Course, they’d never have dared in Bruce’s day - the
risk of a steady stream of Irish jokes would’ve been waaaay too high.) Tristan literally riverdances over to Jennifer and
if I don’t see him in a satin green billowing shirt come Halloween there will
be TROUBLE.
Brendan and Anton then
kindly show that the bantering (cough*bullying*cough) spirit of James Jordan is
alive and well by imitating Tristan's dance in a bitchily mocking way. Claudia immediately sorts them out: “Brendan,
honestly, I will hurt you”. Brendan looks genuinely petrified, MWAHAHAHA.
Pixie gets Trent,
creating an incestuously blond frenzy of tits, teeth and perfect skin. (Someone on the internet called them “the poster boy and girl for Hitler Youth”, which is oh so
wrong, but oh so true.)
Matchmaking on
pause, last year’s winner Abbey returns for a spin around the dance floor and we
get the return of one of the true high points of the 2013 season...
Aljaz's white
waltz trousers.
*fans oneself*
Sadly Aljaz isn’t
wearing those trousers at the first pro/celeb group rehearsals, which come next. The rehearsals are notable
for having Claudia and Tess arrive on a tandem and Ivetamazeballs wearing skin-tight
leopard-skin to rehearse, because, of course she is. The dancers all bond and practice whilst Tess and Claude gossip about Thom at the side of the room.
Back to the studio for more Cilla-action.
Simon from Blue
might not have his chiffon shirt slashed to the navel, as Thom does, but he's
made up for it being being entirely bejewelled and wearing indecently tight
slacks. All the remaining lady pros are
primed for the second best chance at the Glitterball and it's Kristina who gets the lucky ticket (WHOOP! My sweepstake!). She goes from sullen to DELIGHTED in seconds and legs it towards him – he doesn't get the Donovan thigh clamp, but she does do some excitable
bouncing and he carries her up the stairs Top Gun style. She is still squealing.
Tim Antiques turns
out to be rather charming and wants to learn ballroom for his wife of thirty years - that's some VERY clever back-story tactical
action, which might see him eke out a second week. In fact, Tim might even manage three weeks on
the show, as he - somewhat surprisingly - scores Natalie as his partner. In a masterclass of professionalism (no doubt
she was pre-programmed), Natbot shows Aliona how it's done, by screaming ‘yes’,
performing a merry boob shake at Tim and saying she had her eye on him from the start. In Natalie’s defence, she may or may not be lying through her teeth, but she is one of the very few pros who actually makes eye
contact with her partner.
Scott, bless him,
didn't look that great at rehearsals, but is over the moon and visibly relieved
to be partnered with ballroom world champion Joanne. It will be like learning to drive in a
Bentley, no doubt.
That means that
Mark Towie has been put with Karen. I'm
truly surprised to find him quite charming at this point. It's going to be an interesting test for
Karen, who I loved with Dave Hairy Biker and found completely bland with Nicky
Westlife – if fun brings out fun and beige brings out beige, let's see what
this brings out... A vajazzle within the
month?
We get a quick
detour via Smokey Robinson and Imelda May singing a harmonised version of Get
Ready, whilst Brendan, Pasha and Trent try to out-do each other in the
unbuttoned shirt stakes, before the last four are paired.
Alison is put with
Aljaz, which he seems authentically happy about – Alison has moves, it's clear,
and also the strength to pick Aljaz up and squeeze the very life out of him. Harder, I mean, careful Alison, you’ll split his trousers.
Claudia asks Judy
if she'd destroy all of Andy's trophies to win Strictly. Judy jokily acknowledges that Wimbledon
is quite hard to win, but ultimately proclaims that 'yes' she’d destroy the lot for that
glitterball. We learn that Andy and
Jamie Murray will be “mortified” that their mum is donning lycra and attempting
botafogos, but it's clear that Judy doesn't give a shit. She draws the short straw that is Anton du
Beke, but they both seem overjoyed, so that's ok. At least Judy doesn't have to worry that she'll be shown up by a capable partner if she's rubbish at latin.
Sunetra ends up
with Brendan, who doesn't throw the Aliona sulk you might have expected of his
younger years, which means Kevin from Grimsby gets the reward of a trained
performer in the form of Frankie Saturday.
And we're
done! Good pairings in the main - I feel
like Natbot has got a fairly raw deal, but she's put an excellent spin on it,
so we shall see. Ola's been a right
lucky bugger! But then she is married to
James Jordan, so rough and smooth and all that.
We're nearly there, and the launch show finishes as it always does - with the wonderful hot mess that is the group dance. But
FRANKLY, I think this one is my all-time favourite so far. (Do I say that every year?)
I loved it because
it was, at moments, hilariously terrible, but also because it was – in parts – genuinely
good! I started crying real tears of laughter right at the beginning
when Scott Mills put on a Smashy and Nicey expression and pretended to scratch
at the decks, and then didn’t stop chuckling throughout. Everyone just looked like they
were having a marvellous time – I fully wanted in, and not just to have Thom
Evans hoick me up and spin me above his head. It's worth a watch people - I swear I’ve watched the whole thing at
least a hundred times. The best bit is when the boys do their squat and flat-hands-down move. It's... special.
And that, ladies
and gents, is that – for now. Three weeks for the pros to whip their
victims into shape and then, come 26th and 27th September, WE ARE ON.
I CANNOT WAIT!
SERIOUSLY!
And so, it just
remains for me to say...
KEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP
WATCHING!
Oh and pay up your pounds...!
