2017 - Week 5

Yellow waistcoat-off!  With the ‘muted’ tones of Simon’s mustard plaid beating out Brian’s pure canary.  Tara Brian.  Probably the right call.  I suspect that, in the end, Brian and Amy’s theme colours of yellow and electric blue divided the nation; some reminded of beautiful unadulterated who cares that it’s unnecessary tat look at the cheap cheap bags of multi-coloured scissors, ‘sheep’-skin rugs, a million candles and monochrome picture frames consumerist joy!  Whilst others were taken back to the chilling capitalist hell that is other people fighting over the same unpronounceable vowel sound named chest of drawers/desk/office chair in an unheated warehouse having traipsed for seven hours around a maze of modern interior design – but we JUST left the sofas and kitchen section HOW are we back to children’s furniture and not at the POSTERS yet NO NO NO, NO MORE BILLYS WHY DID WE COME AT HALF TERM ARGHHHH. 

Personally, I LOVE Ikea – my flat is 95% Dröna storage boxes, but it’s not the ideal theme for a slightly tired jive.  It probably needed more meat balls.  Fare ye well Brian, you weren’t the annoying throwback I feared you’d be.  

Some might wonder how he lost to Simon, but I think it’s that Rimmer is channelling the Calman joy – he’s just so happy to be there and it's pretty infectious.  That charleston was a hot stinky mess but I laughed heartily throughout; from the opening mysterious violinography (the song was “Fit as a fiddle”, YOU SEE), via every single move from the ‘Charleston for Dummies’ book, before introducing a new slapstick horse riding move – dressage is the new swimming, clearly.  And  all that whilst wearing matching waistcoat and trews made from the worst tartan ever.  Poor that clan.  McReally?

But where was Joe’s kilt?!!  I must have been misinformed.  (Besides, we’ve already had a kilted paso, which was mainly about Kenny Logan’s haggis, gawd help Olachops.)  This way more traditional one was exciting, moody, and just so good... I flipping loved it.  Am truly girl-crushing Queen Katya.  Yeah yeah, kiltless Joe was fine, but can we see it again with Gorka please?  Then I’m sure full marks would be justified, Shirl...  (Though it was worth la Ballas cracking out the ten paddle to see the forums have a meltdown.)

Yup, the scoring was all over the place - ten-gate aside, Susan’s pretty ropey cha cha got a Ballas seven.  A SEVEN!  SB blinded by the Calman joy, as we all are.  Without Bruno’s extra scores, the leader-board looked even more insane than usual.  Debbie topping the charts, doesn't seem that surprising.  Though, personally, I struggled to handle her and Gio’s rumba - conditioned as I no doubt am to find multigenerational sensual writhing a little cringe.  Also white pant flash. A LOT of white pant flash.  Was that really so necessary?

It's more that, after Joe, there was a four-way tie for third place, before Alexandra in seventh place.  SEVENTH.  Are you £%$*@~#-ing me?  That samba was amazeballs!  Sure, there might have been tecchie issues, but I’ve done zumba – I know how impossible samba walks are.  And she had to dance to Ed Sheeran – give the girl a break!

In truth, I don’t really care about the scores – they never bear have much of a relationship with reality.  But there was nothing particularly memorable about the jointly placed foursome, other than Jonnie’s blade of glory quickstep – I was transfixed by the footwork, to the extent that I *nearly* forgot the supermarket sweep theme.  After delivery boy Gio, you’ve got to wonder what’s doing it for the production staff – maybe there’s a particularly desirable Sainsbury’s employee in Elstree they’ve all got the horn about.

The other fourway members were Gemma (competent but forgettable ‘worried face’ ballroom), Aston (competent but forgettable ‘billowing shirt’ ballroom) and Mollie (competent but forgettable ‘princess white pearl dress small girls and not so small girls and indeed small and not small boys will be having tantrums about not owning’ ballroom).  Oh, a word on Baby AJ’s wondrous outfit before I move on – not about the tightest of faintly pink trousers (who left that red item in the whites' wash – Davood and his scarlet jive shirt, perhaps?), but special mention to his LILAC CRAVAT.  A child in a lilac cravat!  MwahahaHAHA.  Applause to all involved.  How. I. Laffed.

More perhaps than I laffed at Anton’s costume.  Though it’s a tough call, because... Well where to begin?  With Ruth’s wig probably – I don’t recall anyone having such a varied run of excellent (‘excellent’) synthetic wigs before now.  This one - the ‘shit Cagney’ (not Lacey) - was extraordinary in its plastic bounce.  But it wasn’t enough to rival Anton’s pink glitter slacks and giant Mariachi sleeves, was it?  Oh no.  What I most appreciated here though was that we've finally reached a state of public acceptance that Anton is utterly utterly shit at Latin and it's now all about his knowing attempts to joke his way through it.  

Yes, ladies and gentleman, Anton du Beke has worn me down, and I hand-on-heart enjoyed this samba.  

Ruth Langsford – what a good sport.  Sure, she looked a bit embarrassed to be there – who wouldn’t when Anton risked the sequinned crotch seamwork with a high attitude pirouette – and she kept missing her steps, but I’m happy to see them survive this week.  I’ll almost certainly not feel the same when she takes out anyone that’s not Rimmer, but for now, bravo.  And I await the next (Halloween) wig with anticipation. 

I await Bruno’s return too – it wasn’t quite the same without him, in spite of Craig’s imitation tantrum.  Bruno would have unashamedly waggled his ten paddle prematurely for a dancer he liked too, guys.  And the judges’ entrance will go back to being a slightly shambolic piece of dance improv, rather than the spectacular one we had one on both Saturday - Shirley dancing on her own - and Sunday - Shirley torn as to where to pose, and practically headbutting Darcey in the confusion.  Don’t worry though, SB, it doesn’t matter how many years you practice the judges’ entrance dance, experience doesn’t seem to make any difference to the hotmessery.  See, for example, Darcey’s fishtail flamenco number, which meant her dance entry was less footwork and more a-man-of-a-certain-age pleasing wiggle-shuffle.

Tess was also going for the dad vote; Baywatch ballgown and black slinky.  Tess is looking so good this year – her stylist has clearly stopped hating her, or has been replaced by someone with a degree in good taste and control pant expertise.  It was Claudia, however, who rose to the highest of fashion magnificence on Saturday, in a cajj lady tux and the reddest of lippy.  Just gorgeous.  Women of my generation will be scheming for an occasion to crack out that look, come hell or highwater.  I'm blousing up for the nursery run this evening.

And that’s more or less that, bar The Script performing (loo break), and a very pleasing sixties pro-power jive, which is worth a little iPlayer dabble.  None of last week’s Pleather Prison’s craziness, but there were plastic dance welly boots and several man turtlenecks.  Much needed feelgood factor, especially when Pasha slid in carrying a tray of wonky cocktails glued in place.  Glad to see his time off is being used so effectively.

Next week... Halloween’s a coming, folks.  Gulp.  Time to turn off the lights and pretend to be out, lest small children try and con you out of chocolate.  BACK OFF KIDS.  MINE.  Keeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep etc.

2017 - Week 4

It seems to be Friday, which is quite a lot of days after our Week 4 show, but I have belatedly blogged – again!  Two in a row.  Go me.  I’d like to thank my toddler for contracting hand, foot and mouth disease and napping extensively whilst I have to take time from paid employment.  (He’s fine, thanks – a bit disgusting in the rashy parts, but no loss of energy or two year old willpower.  We had a fifteen minute stand-off this morning whilst he refused to climb some stairs.  I’d had have uploaded this sooner if I hadn’t been mere frustrating metres away from wifi.)

Anyway, remember last week?  Charlotte left – and I was grateful she, and we, and the judges were put out of our collective miseries before it got really really sour (BRENDAN).  There's only so many weeks the judges could comment on natural physical beauty being the main (only) positive.  I don't think it was cool of Bruno to openly laugh in Charlotte’s face, but that is pretty much the bitchy flamboyant Italian manifestation of my own view. That jive was just cringeworthy; awkward wedding theme, more jogging than jiving, and Brendan in a paunchy shiny pink waistcoat - it was all very manmade fibres.  Yes, yes, she looked beautiful, but it was a no brainer against Davood (rhymes with Havard) and his sexy/gurning/I am ACTING with my FACE Viennese Waltz.  (BTW, I am really into the V-Wah this series).  I think Davood’s going to struggle though – he’s likely to stay mid-table and could eventually come a cropper against one of the more experienced dancers.

Brian too was doing lots of ACTING with his FACE, channelling rock star mid-riff with guyliner and the kind of expression weaned babies tend to have when they are pushing out a sizeable poo.  But his paso was a very enjoyable guilty pleasure and I’m really warming to Amy.  Strictly is benefitting from high-pitched, excitable Welshness.

But soz, the Welsh, cause the real highlight this week wasn’t Amy’s studded hair (whilst up there), it was the final three dances.  WOWSERS.  One of my favourite show endings evah, and completely unexpected.  What a trio: Alexandra Jive BOOM! TENS!  Jonnie American Smooth VELVET! WALKOVER!  And Susan Calman Quickstep JOY! MORE JOY! EVEN MORE light on her feet fancy kick work JOY!  Honestly, all three were brilliant and uplifting. They offered an emotional connection that I’ve never got from Debbie, or Aston TBH.

Actually, Debbie had her first dodgy week of judging - but I hate the cha cha, so it doesn’t really count, right?  The risk with Debbie is that it’s all a bit high kicks and pelvic thrusts, which is fine when it’s masked by other content (paso gusset wafting, cougar snogs, general dance ability), but this was mainly a lot of Giovanni in overalls and delivery man is not a fantasy thing, guys - not in these times of Deliveroo/Yodel/oh you've just 'hidden' the giant parcel under the doormat/yes but where is my extra herb and garlic dip which you’re still going to charge me for Dominos.

Gemma on the other hand, is slowly getting better (*journey klaxon*) knocking out a solid paso this week.  And whilst I hated the outfits (synchronised swim teams/maypole dancers go dungeon play) and I hated the music (bullfighty sexual tension not generally conveyed by Coldplay), it was still dead good.  Please no more Chupa Chups colours for a paso though, Wardrobe - not even Aljaz could pull off that fuchsia bolero waistcoat with corset waistband trousers.

For me, Gemma's definitely climbing towards the top lot, up with the trained dancers like Alex, Debbie and Aston (in spite of his pigeon-toed quickstep about which I have little else to say).   It's Mollie and Joe who might be struggling between the top dogs and nearly dogs, and could slip into the dance off, via precarious-midtabledom.  At least Joe’s now survived a mincey old cha cha, so that’s promising (in no small part thanks to Katya's turquoise eyeliner - what a WOMAN).  I like Joe, and I hear he'll be wearing a kilt tomorrow, which OCH AYE.  (When we found out we having a baby boy, my first words to Mr Cad were "he'll be able to wear a KILT", so yeah... big fan.)

As for Mollie, she's nearly good, she's just a bit baby giraffe-y here and there - girl group gyration and hairography definitely remain her comfort zone.  I do wish AJ had avoided that legs akimbo lift in their salsa - yes, impressive, but also totes awks.  Not even the magnificence of that blue streamer dress and excellent King pins (GEDDIT?!!!!) could rescue her.

Speaking of unfortunate poses - HI SIMON, confidently starting his samba by thrusting and pointing at his penis repeatedly.  Thing is, it was clear this was his understanding of the choreography, rather than an ill-advised moment of testosterone driven improv.  And if Karen was choreographing for laffs - Simon did her proud.  The rest of the dance was almost as good - Simon stayed on the spot grinning and doing some more pelve whilst Karen samba-ed around him, using bum feathers to distract.  It was throwback and atrocious in so many ways, but I respect the Samba tradition and dad dancing audacity.  Don't tell anyone, but I’ve perhaps warmed to Rimmer.

At the other end of the lolz scale, Ruth’s super serious tango left me a bit zzzzzz tbh.  It was fine, and I know she's universally loved, but pffffff.  I'm afraid wouldn't be too sad to see her return to daytime TV.  Also, Anton and a sexy masquerade Eyes Wide Shut theme?  Nope.

Indeed, let’s move swiftly on to Sunday's opening pro-number.  And what have we here?  Oh Anton again - and a sexy Gladiator arena/gothic castle theme.  Oh come ON, Strictly.  PLEASE.  

In truth though, this was one of my favourite pro-stoppers in a while – this dance was off the scale INSANE, and YES, in a good way.  If you haven’t yet watched it, then do – you’ll be greeted with something which is a mix of Les Mis, Mad Max, Eurovision winner Wild Dances (a niche reference, you say? – not for this audience), steampunk, paso doble and a club bondage night.  I KNOW.  

Oh, and I’m not finished.  HELL NO!  Also add in some bells, ropes, sexy beckoning, cloaks, spears, Morris dancing thigh slaps, drums, panpipes, smoke, Pasha and Brendan as vampire overlords, Baby AJ getting cast as a macho prison guard (lollllz), Gorka getting cast as a macho prison guard (rrrrrrrz) and you’re starting to get a sense.  

The ‘plot’ was something to do with Aljaz, Kev and Gio being prisoners in a castle home to beautiful women in leather laces who produced flour from their hands when they clapped and had installed Anton on a throne, with a leaf crown - Joaquin Phoenix-style, deciding fates with a thumb sign.  SO TENSE, mwahaha.  Anyway, there's lots of FACE ACTING and sexy conflict dancing, and eventually the three prisoners escape Pleather Castle, but not before some homoerotic scenes where Gio gets dragged by the legs and Aljaz gets felt up against a portcullis and poor Kevin has to settle for holding up the gate for his hot mates.  They then find suddenly themselves dancing to an entirely different song, set in heaven or the ocean - it's not entirely clear which but there's a lot of blue chiffon wafting and Anton is now waltzing in his pyjamas.  It was totally ridiculous, but fucking EPIC. 

REPLAY.

What else?  Pash in vest and blouse dancing to Gregory Porter.  TessNoDressMess in excellent sculpted scarlet, then white and slinky - albeit having borrowed Claude’s satsuma spray tan.  Claudia did jailhouse stripes and space peplum, Shirley opted for an upholstery ballgown, but it somehow worked, and I think Darcey had another jumpsuit at some point (I’ve blanked it and it’s Friday).  The boys kept it tuxy.  At least we’ll get some man outfit pep come Halloween week.

Oooh, I'm fired up - by the pro-dance and Alex's jive mostly.  It’s starting to come together now – sure there’s plenty of beige in there, but even the beige throws up the possibility of crotch pointing or FACE ACTING.  I’m just off to watch the Gladiator pro-number again.  See you next time - let's see if I can blog three in a row.  Keeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep etc.

2017 - Week 3 - Movie Week

Oh yes... blogging... AKA 'not having a two year old'.  But I'm back - only two weeks late.   Oh no posts in 2016 you note.  So a year and two weeks late.  Thank you for noticing, she shouts into the ether.  But here I am, pearls of wisdom now ready to be unloaded, provided I can still get to bed at 9.30pm.

And what have we learned so far?  Well, that Ed Balls’ political legacy, as turns out, is giving the British public a taste for the comedy-tryer candidate, rather than the comedy-just-terrible candidate.  So lo, the Dave Myers-esque hilarity of Reverend Richard Coles was booted out this week, whilst Brian was rewarded for his American Smooth Wizard of Oz game by missing the dance off entirely – though he did make a genuinely excellent wobbly scarecrow, which probably helped a lot. 

Am sad though - I loved the Rev.  He's the only one who has provided me with Actual Rofl Lolz this year.  However, donning a marching band uniform and a Boris wig (albeit combed) for a Flash Gordon paso just didn’t cut it.  There’s only one man with that hairdo who can leap around like a petulant child and survive intact against the odds whilst everyone stares on in “is this actually happening” disbelief.  Ladies and gentlemen, Her Majesty's Principal Secretary of State for Foreign and Commonwealth Affairs.

And speaking of national disasters, it’s MOVIE WEEK!  Boom boom etc. 

I’ve warmed to theme weeks, but this one can be a bit barrel scrape-y.  Toy Story, for example, is not a good theme for a quickstep, so I wasn't surprised to see it in the dance off.  It wasn’t helped by Simon Rimmer's Buzz Lightyear make-up.  I appreciate that bold, kohled Kardashian eyebrows are all the Snapchat rage, but this was a toddler wax crayon attack.  We’re talking Crayola caterpillars, unsaved by purple face paint, and a pubic curl Sharpie flourish on his chin.  Nothankyou - as my toddler says when I ask him to do something entirely reasonable, like brush his teeth or put his shoes on.  At least he's learning to use politeness within his rebellions.

I was a bit nothankyou about Gemma and Aljaz’s Jungle Book charleston – a dance you’d think can be manipulated to suit any ker-azy theme, including anthropomorphism.  Perhaps it was just disappointing that Gemma was in a 15 denier catsuit whilst Aljaz’s bear outfit was a shapeless baggy grey onesie with extra belly padding.  Have we learnt nothing from the Blurred Lines shitshow? 

Mind you, from a male objectification POV, we did get to enjoy Jonnie as Indiana Jones, with chesticles ahoy and some rather snug khakis.  And a rope, and a Stetson, and an Oti Mabuse alongside him.  The two of them really are another level gorge.  Sure, it was a bit Peacock bum-shelf-centric, which isn't really standard paso, but Jonnie is likeable and inspiring, so I have high hopes for Team Macock.

It was Susan Calman who bagged the best concept, outfit and CHOON of the night; a Wonder Woman samba.  THE JOY.  I hope Susan isn’t going anywhere soon – she has the Balls-like combination of jokey performances with gritted teeth learning of steps (technically, if not skilfully...yet).  She also has an actual love of Kevin Clifton’s dance embrace, and Kevin's seemingly over the stalker and cats vibe she was giving out at the start, so the chemistry is actually touching now.  I love Susan.  Can you be a national treasure before you hit retirement?  I’m nominating la Calman.

Speaking of retirement, Brendan? Tempted much?  (Anton’s never retiring – I’ve accepted that fact.)   This was just standard go-to yawnsome Brendanography: have them look pretty, I’ll shunt them around the floor, then strop it out when the judges tell me off.  A Top Gun tango, you say?  Or a solid excuse for Brendan to live out his Tom Cruise fantasies/delusions?  At least it meant Charlotte didn't actually have to do any actual dancing, after last week’s cha cha meltdown – instead she got to raise temperatures in a Kelly McGillis blouse, whilst Brendan plopped her on and off a motorbike.

Anton was also in sensual mode (*voms in mouth*).  Not that I remember much about the Ruth and Anton duBond rumba – I’ve clearly blocked it from my mind.  Something about Ruth not wanting to stare into Anton’s eyes and make sexy face, which – hello, I think we all have sympathy there.  Nothankyou.

But it wasn’t all slightly awks sub-par stuff.  Debbie and Aston – you know, the trained dancers – were excellent, with a Ginger Rogers quickstep and Trolls cha cha respectively.  Aston even managed to impress wearing a bermuda short variation of the poo slacks, with turquoise tights and a bright green crochet/felt waistcoat for modesty.   

Mollie wasn’t bad as slutty Maria in slinky evening dress and practical apron – I’m not sure she’s the dancer we might have expected her to be, but the lifts in her Sound of Music American Smooth were pretty great.  And if you ever wondered what Captain Von Trapp looked like in the Austrian cadet force, look up the child AJ in his military evening jacket and wonder no more.

And at least those concepts made some kind of sense.  A few even actively worked –  mostly Joe’s Viennese Waltz, working beautifully to Lara’s theme.   *spoilers* though, with that choreography giving the ending to Dr Zhivago away.  I haven’t seen the film, and now I know that the plot is lots of computer-generated snow and a hastily grown man moustache.  We also now have two classic Katya Hat moments – floppy for Virshilas and headmuff for Jones.

Alexanda’s My Fair Lady American Smooth was a lovely match of theme and dance too – and she’s so so so good.  I was initially disappointed that no better pun than “Strictly Covent Market” was found, until I could only think of “Strictly Come-vent Market, and decided to move swiftly on - less BBC prime-time, more niche erotica from the depths of the internet.

Mind you, niche erotica might have been what Davood and Nadiya were going for – that Stayin’ Alive samba was approx 99% pelvic thrusts in tighty whities.  I’ve still no idea whether Davood can dance, his entire characterisation is ‘I may or may not be bright but who cares cause MUSCLES’.

I do quite high hopes for this year – a Debbie, Aston, Alexandra, Jonnie final, perhaps?  Though Joe, or even Mollie and Gemma too, could sneak though.  Especially if there’s a CONTROVERSIAL DANCE OFF (there is always a controversial dance off).  And Susan.  Many more weeks of Susan please.  There’s at least five or six of them I hope she takes out.

BTW, have I blogged yet about how much I love Shirley as a judge?  (No, because PARENTHOOD.)  Guys, I LOVE Shirley! (As a judge mind, I’ve this teeny fear she might be Brexit IRL.) Her launch show dance cameo was an amazing glimpse into how she can totes really dance, and she has excellent spectacles on tip of nose game.  But more than that (I know! As if the specs placement wasn’t enough!), she’s really good at pithy constructive criticism, knows and highlights the dance steps she’s seeing without being eye-rollingly smug and – favourite fact - she’s already managed to completely wind Brendan AND Piers Moron up.  Even the forums mostly rate her, which is saying something, as they can find fault in anything – even Tess’ outfits, can you believe it...

On that note, TessTess’ pinspins were on show on Sunday - those orthopaedic tights aren’t going to sell themselves - and, shockity horror, I think she’s been looking fairly acceptable all series, so far.  Emphasis on the “so far”, of course, and it’s not like I lurved the flesh denier topped gold streamer number she had on Saturday – on brand though, evoking the lady tight. 

Sure, Claudia’s as orange, fringey and let’s say ‘eccentrically ‘dressed as ever, but she remains Claudia, doer of no wrong, so you crack on, Claude.  Darcey had an interesting (iffy) take on the lady tuxedo on Sunday, but it’s clear the purpose was to out-pin Tess with the slittiest high slits on her dress-culottes; maybe the hosiery contract isn’t going as well as hoped and Darcey has spotted an opportunity.  

I long to bitch about the man fashion too, you know, but there’s little cattiness to be mined from ‘will it be a black or white dinner jacket tonight’?

Oh it’s good to be back!  Typing as I am on my iPhone on my Southern Rail commute – nothing like having that quality me-time, eh?  Who knows how much I’ll get blogged this year (course with Southern Rail’s record, the chances are high that the blogs will be long).   But hooray for interminable Strictly chit chat.  If I don't reappear, just blame the two year old.  But be in no doubt - I’ll keeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep watching.