Series 12 - Week 9

Remember a hundred years ago, when the celebs all got back from Blackpool and Steve tried his best to jive, but he couldn't really do it, so left after the dance off?  That was some time ago, wasn't it?  Hmmmm...  So, yeah, soz for the delay and let's treat this blog as a last week recap before the Round The World 'fun' tomorrow.   (Who knows when I'll get round to blogging that one?)

Poor Steve, but when your ankle isn't even made of ankle anymore, bouncy flicks and kicks were always going to be a struggle.  Besides, Ola had clearly given up and was hoping for the end to come nigh-er than ever before.  Seriously - that was an unusual lack of Jordan effort.  I mean, call that a Strictly American Footballer costume?  A full-strength Ola would have insisted on sticking Steve in gold lycra bumhuggers with strategically placed lacing and black sequinned make-up under the eyes.   But no, we got mild sailor trousers and a '10' on a not-tight-enough T-shirt.  Poor show.  Steve still seems very lovely though, doesn't he?  And he can return to his life as a wildlife expert, and TV teatime treat for mums, with a few extra fans to spare.  As for our Ola, that could well have been her last Strictly competition – if it is, ah well, so be it.  She leaves behind her a legacy of lace catsuits, some unused cans of Tuff-en-up, and the original charleston swimming face.

Dan, meanwhile, leaves his £1 in the competition.  Sorry Dan - and it's all hotting up now!

Although Sunetra had the dance-off edge, this waltz wasn't her most confident ballroom.  I think she's probably quite knackered. (I know I would be, after nine weeks of incessant dancing with Brendan.)  Wardrobe weren't particularly helpful either - using up Darcey's thermal diamanté for Sunetra's top half, and different deniers to boot.  I loved the swishy chocolate silky skirt, but the top looked like granny tights stitched and stretched.  Not good.  I think we'll probably see Sunetra leave tomorrow and then... well, ANYTHING could happen (provided that ANYTHING is one of the remaining dancers leaving week by week, until there are four, or is it three, left).  But it's certainly true that the standard is really special this year.  Truly.  

For starters, there was the latin quarter - you wait several series for a non-embarrassing male latin, and then two come along at once. 

Firstly, Simon’s salsa, which I really rated – possibly the first time we’ve actually seen a celeb do all that intricate underarm/overarm tangling without getting stuck and stilted somewhere along the way.  He looked comfortable and bendy, but all this improvement can only mean one thing – Kristina’s inevitable mascara-smeared meltdown when Simon doesn’t win.

Of course my favourite male latin of the night... well, who else? HEEEEEEYYYY MACARENA ALIIIGHT.  Sorry Dave Myers, but Jake's samba has replaced Moves Like Jagger as my Go To Dance of Strictly Joy.  It was hilarious, but also brilliant – a jokey dance performed by someone who can dahhnce.  I loved it all - the mugging, the thrusting, the bum shimmy, the everything.  Perhaps it wasn’t technically perfect, but to put it bluntly - GIVE A SHIT, LOSERS.  Yes it was over-marked on the technical stuff, yadda yadda blah blah zzzz, but who cares!   I thought the tens were fully deserved.  ¡Manrara! is a genius.  Now, please excuse me, I’m just off to watch it again.  And then again, again.  (Maybe that's why this blog's a week late...)

I appreciate it was a marmite dance, but for me, Jake blew everyone else out the water.  Caroline, Pixie and Frankie were probably all more polished in terms of technique, but I found Frankie’s Viennese Waltz as boring and repetitive as the What's New Pussycat? riff.  Yes, her dress was awesome (possibly the best scarlet of the year, and that is saying something), but I’m starting to find Frankie a bit botlike, and not in a terrifying Natalie Lowe 'primed to win or kill' type of way.  

I just can’t get fully thrilled about Caroline either.  I get that she’s really great and has insanely good pointy feet, but I'm finding her and Pasha together a little bit... well, bland.  (God, it feels sacrilegious to slag Pasha off, even a bit).  Caroline certainly did well to deal with her dress slip, but part of me found that the most exciting part of the dance.  Also, I can’t bear crooning, so Mack The Knife wasn't never going to be my jam.  (Still, Craig was taking the piss giving that a seven.  That was no way a seven.)

Pixie’s probably my favourite girl then, by default – my, what praise!  Personally, I found her charleston a bit bow-legged and out of sync in parts, which the judges were apparently scripted to ignore.  Also Trent, in tight velvet, was more 1970s Eurovision backing singer, than 1920s spatted Gatsby, but I suppose that’s not necessarily a bad thing.

Actually, it was tight waistcoats galore, as Mark had been parked in one too – sadly, holiday camp-style fake sapphire lapels do not command the dramatic majesty needed for the tango.   I liked the music and choreography, but I’ve been off Mark for the last couple of weeks and the trip to the Isle of Fernando - the world's most ITV2 kind of place - didn't really help.  (I mainly blame that over-marked Blackpool charleston, as this hugely under-rehearsed tango was really good and it’s entirely unfair of me to be po-faced about it.)

What else happened?  Anyone remember?  Oh yes, Claude returned!  And how wonderful it was to see her.  She looked glorious in a jumpsuit, such are her magic powers (well on Saturday anyway, but one case of  jumpsuit success probably gives you a pass for another, and being Claudia Winkleman gives you a pass on pretty much anything).  Meanwhile, Tess is flirting with dressmess again, I see.  Her Saturday white dress involved some kind of unnecessary sabre tooth necklace, whilst Sunday's number was made of peach mildew.  Darcey too was getting in on the weird body paint shenanigans - she appeared to have a tinsel eagle plastered over her shoulders.

We also got a fun homoerotic cops and robbers pro-dance - Robin's glee at dancing with Aljaz was fully understandable.   And then Barry Manilow did a couple of numbers, one of which I'll gloss over, the other of which was Copacabana, which is, quite simply, a CHOON, and fully deserved a play, even if Barry is now singing it through a face made of wax.  What with that and the Macarena, I don't quite see how the Round The World theme is going to live up to such cheesy international heights.  Though I confess I am curious to see how Jake and Janette handle an Argentine Tango to Zorba The Greek (seriously).  Keeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep WTF?!?!

Series 12 - Week 8

Ach Judy!  Somewhat incredibly, I'm not sure I was ready for that.  I really didn't think the Anton juggernaut had yet run out of gas, so was entirely prepped for Sunetra to leave us at this point.  But turns out when you pull out a 'dance' which vaguely channels the Viennese Waltz style it was supposed to (and even suggests *shock horror* improvement), well, the du Beke fanbase turns.  That or they didn't like Anton's peach boater and balloon work (impossible). Actually, I think the Anton Army bristled when they noticed how Judy danced considerably better during the two seconds she had with one of the backing dancers than she had in eight weeks with her actual partner.

Judy will nonetheless remain a legendary Strictly contestant, challenged by ballroom, sure, but who else has ever rehabilitated her public persona as well as her? She's aces, is Judy.  I suggest you wipe away your tears (especially you, Ben, another du Beke sweepstake pound down the drain) and go reread that Yoko Ono Twitter takedown.  This is not the last we've seen of Judy Moo.

Sunetra was luuuuucky - that hen weekend samba was a few too many tequilas into an evening running the gauntlet of Bristol Waterfront in a boa and L-plates.  It was pretty mean of Brendan to start with some eye-level pelvic thrusting too - that would put any discerning celeb off her game - AND he then shunted poor Sunetra to the end of a line of professional dancers and basically told her to keep up.  Still, she's made it through Blackpool and, with a good ballroom, could even knock out a contender on a dodgy latin...

For there are more contenders than any other year, I think, so it's hard to call the winner at this point. I think Steve is probably the least likely - he's charming, Ola's loved, but those bullying allegations linger. They may well be (indeed, are almost certainly) total guff, but that American Smooth was entirely seen-it-before/by-numbers on the choreography and I do get the feeling that it's not a total love-in between Ola and Steve. I suspect they don't have much common ground, even though Steve's into poisonous bugs and Ola's married to James Jordan. BOOM BOOM!

At the other end of the leader board, Pixie is technically amazing, but (stuck record time) the an all-singing stage school brat thing could still haunt her. I very much enjoyed her brilliantly weird Xanadu meets Troy paso doble though, even if I was disappointed that Trent hadn't read the memo on Strictly Centurions and was far too covered up. (Note for next time: must show more chest flesh than Ken Doll Gladiator plastic armour). 

Simon similarly risks not getting one love (for his mother's pride etc) - I'm not sure the public likes him. But he was great in Blackpool, in spite of the velvet domination, and I was totally sold on his Argentine Tango.  But that's no real surprise - it's an Argentine Tango.  I suspect Kristina's turbo boobs were doing much of the work, but that upside down thing at the end (technical terms ahoy).  Wowsers. 

I didn't really rate Frankie or Mark's performances this week. I got bored of seeing Kevin woosh his "FRANKENSTEIN!!" (*rolls eyes*) up and down then back again then repeat. I usually love a quickstep, but I was (entirely unfairly) a bit grumpy this time. 

I was even grumpier about Mark's charleston after the judges showered him with high scores - sure, he could do a basic swivel, but that's almost all there was. I found the choreography total meh; Mark swivelled and smiled like a village idiot (who's had his teeth done) whilst Karen momentarily clambered around him like a crab (which we all know is Scott's dance), before they did some head to bum work.  You know the charleston rule - no swimming, no good. 

Caroline's the one I can't get to grips with.  I couldn't really fault her jive (it wasn't her fault Wardrobe didn't give her matching Geri Halliwell red knickers, forcing an incongruous white gusset flash), but I couldn't even really get excited about it - even though it involved Pasha in a deerstalker... no hang on, those sentry hats have a different name... Something about bears?

Jake, however, now HELLO.  That American Smooth was really something to get excited about. Janette (free from the shackles of Julien "ooooh shiny" Macdonald's concentration span of minus several seconds) has been throwing out some excellent routines. Yes, they rely slightly more on her ab strength than anything else, and she does tend to have the star turn - but it's a million miles away from Aliona's method of plonking partner, tree-like, on the dance floor then writhing vertically and making sex eyes at the camera.  And you can forgive a star turn when it involves being chucked up to the ceiling from the splits and risking an amateur (hopefully) catching you.  I bloody loved this dance - scarlet dress, moody music, slightly obtuse possible pimp/prossie reference at the end (ok, not that bit so much) and it was my fav of the night.  Well, probably (that Argentine Tango though...).  He's slipped, but Jake's still hanging on for the top spot, I'd say. He's probably still using up some Week 2 Good Dance points, but - unlike Bextor and her incredible charleston - that salsa's not been his only quality dance. 

So we shall see. There's a good six horses who could absolutely get the Glitterball. Anyone want to call it?  (*whispers a Pixie-Caroline-Jake final* *reserves the right to change her mind every week until the final*)

In non-dance news, I can't remember much about the TessDress sitch, so let's just assume it was more or less fine.  I think Zoe's fabulous taste is having a very positive influence - Tess is matching Zoe's statuesque blonde-wears-glitzy black in the name of presenting symmetry and it's a good look. Darcey, however... Oh dear oh dear. Saturday's ice dance lycra/crystal boils outbreak bodice was awful. "Thermal diamanté" Mr Cad called it. 

And then there were the other performances. *deep breath*

I'm going to say something some might find controversial, but others will no doubt support.  And it is this: 

THERE IS NO PLACE FOR SMALL CHILDREN ADORABLE OR OTHERWISE ON THE STRICTLY DANCEFLOOR UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES.  

They are entirely acceptable in training VTs, but that's about it.  It doesn't matter how cute the gap between your teeth might be, little blonde Ivetachild, I DO NOT WANT TO HEAR YOU SING. (I don't even watch Junior Eurovision FFS, why would I want to see this?!!)  Such saccharine cringe has no place on Strictly, even if it does culminate in Ivetadult being hoisted to the ceiling in a dress that make Diana's bridal train seem restrained. 

I'm not going to dwell on the Jackson 5 charleston either - as soon as they replaced the word 'Frisco' with 'Blackpool', I knew it wasn't for me.  Blackpool, you see, doesn't fucking rhyme with 'disco', or indeed 'dance floor', as they attempted.

At least there was some comedy in the form of McBusted's Village People tribute. We had Cartoon Geek McBusted, Still In Shorts Sheesh It's Not The Noughties Anymore Nu-Metal Is Over Dude McBusted, Sexy Mechanic McBusted, Leopard Print Hair Sheesh It's Not The Noughties Anymore Nu-Metal Is Over Dude McBusted, Mute David Lee Roth McBusted and, of course, at the back, Such A Nice Boy And He Won Strictly Why Is He With These Unhygienic Manchildren Making Intolerable Noise McBusted

Bassey meanwhile KILLED IT. What a pro. And the accompanying rumbas were all game-upped brilliant, not least Pasha and Janette's PHENOMENAL neck torso full body twist thing.  Go to about half an hour in, watch and MARVEL. (I'm such a ¡Manrara! groupie. It's a bit embarrassing really.)

And so we're back to the studio next week, where they hopefully won't constantly bang on about the amaaaaaazing atmosphere in the Tower Ballroom etc etc etc (though I'm sure it was rather special).  I'm not sure if Claude will be returning to hold the reigns, but we wish her and her family well either way - that's the main thing.  I predict a Steve or Sunetra exit, but anything could happen yadda yadda (well sort of), so let's just keeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep um, I think I've run out of verbs... So let's go for a classic: 'dancing'.

Series 12 - Week 7

So it’s ciao for now to lovely lovely Alison (and Laura's turn to leave the sweepstake).  If Judy is staying, and the Brutish public is currently dictating that she must, then I suppose it was, by pure default, time for joyful bezza mates Ali² to very sadly leave us. *sigh*  Alison’s charleston was actually less energised and infectious than her fabulous wafty American Smooth (which blinded Aljaž), but it still makes me sad to see such a happy partnership go.  The competition did really benefit from Alison's joie de vivre and raucous cackle. And Aljaž. The competition always benefits from Aljaž.

And also, whilst we had already learnt from la Riley that big girls can dance, it was still always impressive to see the costume-based architectural work in play to keep Alison's Hammonds in check - this week Wardrobe even dared some intra-boob chiffon!  (Clearly the accompanying lapel detail was all the more structurally important.) 

On the subject of wrangling breasts (of course, I mean, what else), I actually think Caroline's front was to blame for her appearance in the Dance Off.  That greying knotted knicker-elastic over-bodice was one of the worst things I've ever seen on Strictly (and we all know my feelings about Holly Valance's high-waisted shorts).  But seriously, who managed to persuade Caroline that a string vest-bra and back tat was the best platform for a romantic waltz? Pasha's powers are strong, but he can only do so much.

I suppose it was also quite a competitive week for snoozesome, sorry, romantic ballroom, so the usually flawless Caroline had some more direct competition.  Sunetra pulled out another ballroom charmer - a lovely foxtrot - and was lucky that her bodice had been attacked by a Swarovski glitter gun, rather than a silly string shooter.  (Shocking eBay party wig though.)  

And then there was Mark, who managed a very competent waltz.  There was actually some bodice intrigue there too - not in relation to his own bust area, which was covered by the more traditional shirt and jacket, but in relation to Karen's bodice, from which he took a massive mid-dance sniff; nestling his face for what I would considered to be a longer-than-necessary amount of time nestled between boobs in the name of ‘dance’. (I suspect your average Towie regular isn't so familiar with the non-surgically enhanced feel, so Mark was, you know, trying it out...)

The judges thought the best ballrooms were Simon's quickstep (I don't have the technical knowhow to tell you whether the skippy blur of his feet was a good thing, but I suppose the clue's in the dance name) and Pixie's foxtrot, even if the theme (a 1940s break up and make up though the medium of sewingmachineography) was a bit bizarre.  Anyway, Pixie secured a Darcey Ten (means more than a Donny ten, nothing like the impact of a Craig ten), so that probably means it's time to prepare for it to piss down tens at Blackpool next week.  I've warmed to Pixie, but I'm sort of on the fence with Ken Doll Trent - the way he unblinkingly stares directly into the camera at all times is creeeeeeeeeeepy.  I think he might literally be a man doll. 

Frankie had a less successful time of it with her samba - perhaps not helped by Kevin wearing one of those multicoloured pseudo-tribal T-shirts beloved by twenty-something Rahs at festivals, who think they're totes edgy.  Frankie was still great, just not as great as she has been - so Craig was right, if pretty harsh, in drawling that it was her “worst dance yet” (before rolling his eyes and pointedly looking the other way, well, probably).  At least Frankie got to take out her frustration on the donkey piñata in the artist formerly known as the Tesspit/Clauditorium (currently Ballcony).  

Jake's rumba disappointed a little too - but only because of where the bar is for him, not because it was dire.  Let's face it, it was a male rumba that didn't require the protection of rumba fingers (or rumba sofa) to hide behind, so that has to be a win of some sorts.  I wasn't quite convinced by shiny white Lycra and flappy tie as the basis for a Sexy An Officer And A Gentleman costume, but I'm sure there's a market somewhere...

There’s definitely a market for Steve’s outfit – well, if a man of Steve’s girth is involved.  He’s not the first Strictly matador with embroidered waistcoat and man-nips ahoy, gurning and chucking his guns about (and he probably won’t be the last) but why mess with a tried and tested nearly-naked formula?  Though it wasn’t quite enough to detract from Ola’s glitzy astroturf bra – yet another bodice ‘triumph’ from Wardrobe.

And then there was Judy.  Oh Judy.  Truth is, I’m resigned to a good few more weeks of Judy now, if not for the whole shebang - it would make as much sense as her still being here seven weeks in!  I don’t actually think she’ll win – the Anton juggernaut doesn’t have that much turbo-power, and once the anti-Murray vote gets consolidated around a smaller number of excellent contestants, she’ll really struggle to counteract the terrible scores.  But in the meantime, I’ve decided to ignore the terribleness and just fully appreciate her enthusiasm for being there.  I giggled my way right through her paso doble, as she shed her Judge Judy gown, threw Anton into jail with gusto and attempted a furious paso pout – no doubt inspired by her giant Dynasty hair.  Good on ya, Judy Murray!   Keep it up!

(I kind of mean it, but a bit of reverse psychology can’t hurt, can it?)

And there we have it,  more or less.  Not much to say on presenter fashion this week (Tess’ weird flesh cut-outs aside, everyone looked fine enough), but I do want to give a shout-out to the Bridget Jones knicks and sheer pantaloons look the lady-pros sported under their overalls.  That has to be one of the most horrific jumpsuit iterations we’ve ever seen on Strictly, so *applause*.  And now – to Blackpool, for donkey and spade puns galore.  Keeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep, oh something Northern, fish and chips etc.

Series 12 - Week 6 - Halloween

Well, there we go - drop it like it’s Scott.  I actually thought the UncleFesterography was really quite fun, but it just wasn’t to be, was it?  The British public, still wounded from TAM!gate, sat up and took action – it happens like this every year.  Someone quite good goes and then the someone quite bad who previously survived gets culled, a week too late for the audience to enjoy naked hunk pecs and vampire make-up, to pick a totally random contestant type and totally random costume theme...  Scott’s been such a lovely contestant though – his foxtrot was as wide-eyed and adorabad as all the other dances, but it didn't matter. I still chuckled away.  He’s even made Joanne seem quite bearable – I fear the infantilised Northern shrill would be a rather more piercing with a less engaging contestant.  Her heart’s in the right place though.  And she made an excellent Morticia.

Sorry Jules – another sweepstake pound bites the dust.

I was really surprised to see Alison in the bottom two, because I LOVED her flouncy, floaty, wafty American Smooth – so hilariously camp and excitable.  Not that I’m blaming her for over-enthusiasm  – how could any of us keep it cool when faced with Aljaž in guyliner, breeches and banker socks, holding you close, to the haunting sound of Wuthering Heights?  Exactly - we’d all be squealing, spinning and fanning white chiffon to the max whilst falsettoing "meeeeeee, it's meeeeeee, la la la Cathy, I've lalalala window whoa hoh hoh hoooooooh".

Steve was quite lucky to survive his charleston, after he forgot all his steps and made a slight hot mess of throwing Ola around – but it's not a real surprise that Ola can pull in the support dressed as a Sexy Skeleton (oddly, not a look that featured in her calendar, unlike Sexy Kitchen Klutz. I mean, what IS that – actually, don’t answer.) Steve’s one handed lift was still impressive, even if it was more caveman than skeleton.  Though I can see Steve rocking the enlighted caveman look...  It's probably Tam withdrawal symptoms, as I didn’t think I was one for themes, but I now think it would be a real shame if we didn’t get to see Steve in a Barney Rubble outfit before Christmas.  Maybe during ‘Sidekicks from TV Cartoons Of The Past’ Week.

Speaking of sidekicks, good for Zoe Ball, stepping in to cover for lovely Claude, (whose little one is very sadly in hospital - though expected to be ok, poor mite).  Back in the studio, Middle England were probably shocked to the core to see that the Good Ship Strictly could actually be steered by two women with blonde hair, but it LITERALLY could.

Of course, Pixie outblonded both Zoe and Tess with her gigantic crimped electrohair, which detracted from her zebra tango knickers.  Trent was buried in there somewhere too (the hair, not the knickers, sheesh). Pixie was excellent, but I agreed with the judges that Frankie was top dance dog this week.  Her and Kevin's Defying Gravity tango was awesome – totally ridiculous and overblown, and not really that tango-y, but who cares when you're gunning for musical theatre and the green make-up paint.  You could tell from the moment Bruno stood up to yell his feedback, that he would be reaching for the TEN! paddle.  “A real ten”, they all cheered, openly mocking Donny, as the producers seethed (and conceded).

I was half hoping Jake would score the first ten, but I fear his strongest dances might be behind him.  I don’t mean that he’s suddenly got rubbish – clearly he is outstanding – but he’s not had to get hippy in recent weeks, and it shows a bit. (Though ole snake hips is on slow dance duty this Saturday, so I have high hopes for the rare beast that is a non-embarrassing male rumba.  A himba if you will.)  Jake's paso was nearly moody and menacing, but it wasn't pelvic enough.  As Len would probably advise, it needed the bum cheek sixpence test; more clenching of buttocks and fronting of genitals.   I still enjoyed it – Janette's horse bunches and chiffon Appaloosa leggings were particularly good.  And it also lead me to Google Black Betty Ramalam and learn that “Historically the "Black Betty" of the title may refer to the nickname given to a number of objects: a musket, a bottle of whisky, a whip, or a penitentiary transfer wagon”.  They missed a trick not styling it around a penitentiary transfer wagon.

My favourite styling was actually Kristina Black Widow – the first of two massive fingers up at the ‘Kristina is a Harlot’ brigade. (The second being her fantastic performance as the evil queen poisoning Snow Janette and stealing sexy Prince Aljaž, in a dance which contained actual snogging - witt whoo!  Not since the days of Ali Bastian and Brian Fortuna has Strictly got so PDA.)  Ola was probably pissed off that Kristina got first dibs on the catsuit - this year, with added bum cleavage and bum train.  I didn’t really notice Simon, I’m afraid, what with all the Rihanoffarseography.  I think he was dressed as the Joker dressed as a matador.  It was a dubious outfit, either way.

Not as dubious as our Brendan though - flouncy blouse, neck broach and baggy slacks (Wardrobe have clearly learnt from their undersizing error) which had something of the shellsuit about them.  Sunetra on the other hand was buxomly enchanting as she jived – she always sells it.  

As does Caroline, and this was my favourite of hers.  I loved her manic isolation gyrations, her Studio 54 Barbie platforms and (especially) her cheap acrylic purple fro.  Pasha made quite the disco zombie, didn't he?  It takes a special kind of man to rock hair partway between Michael Hutchence and Leo Sayer.

Karen too displayed a fearless approach to make-up - sporting hairy warts and decaying teeth over a gorgeous green jive dress.  She was in a general state of zero inhibition, really, when Mark's scores came out she was so hysterical she nearly brought down the Clauditorium Ball-cony.  Maybe she was having a hallucination brought on by Mark's horrible psychedelic shirt.  That was enough to warp anyone's brain. 

Showing less enthusiastic, or the impact of a very different kind of drug, were Anton's dalmatians, who decided very early on that they didn't want to be associated with Judy's Cruella de Vil American Smooth.  Oh Judy.  What to say that hasn't already been said - in a really mean, harsh and bitchy way - by the judges?  Well, nothing really.  But so what - I still think Judy's a delight and there's no question that "BRING ME MORE PUPPIES" is a great way of opening any number.  Especially if it then involves Anton dragging two full size dogs determined not to lift their assholes from the ground. 

It seems mean to move from dogs' arses to Tess' fashion choices, so I'll comment first on Zoe's Saturday number.  WOW-WIE.  Head to toe sparkle on a tall, tall lady is a Good Look.  As for la Daly, I did not care for the mesh cut outs and edgy ear armour, but Tess certainly didn't look terrible.  Sunday's another matter, but I'm just going to pretend she was wearing an excellent slinkly black dress, rather than my mortal enemy, the jumpsuit.

I've already blahhed on about the brilliant bitch queen versus innocent princess Sunday pro-dance, so I don't propose to go on about how I now think that ¡Manrara! Kristina and Aljaž should now do all the dances, ALL OF THEM.  Not that the Saturday pro dance was awful - I very much enjoyed Hammond acting scared, in a tabard to hide her costume, and I was on board with the notion that they might have let Anton dangle, vampire style, above the dance floor for much of the show.  It was certainly better than Annie Lennox faffing about in red pyjamas, waistcoat and polka dot Thatcher blouse, whilst an entirely unfamous mulleted session musician man did a boring guitar solo to ABSOLUTELY NO PRO-DANCER ACCOMPANIMENT.  Honestly, I thought we were past such ego.  If Gaga can have Natbot sweep around whilst she wigs it up with Tony Bennett, so can Lennox.  Let this be a lesson for next week - when the vote counting filler entertainment is on, I just want the pros to keeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep dancing.