2017 - Week 9 - Blackpool

Oh Jonnie, to quote Jan Delay (which will mean nothing to anyone bar the hardcorest of Eurovision/German pop fans, and me and my mate Vix who appeared on telly at Düsseldorf 2011, dancing to Jan’s ‘hit’ of that name. Oh that’s right, I appeared at Eurovision, have I not mentioned that before? *innocent face* Yeah yeah Jan’s great. My favourite Deutsch-funk-hop star by a mile).

ANYWAY, back to SCD and whilst I’m super sad to see Jonnie go before Mollie or Gemma (in spite of Aljaz/tens), it has to be said that Jonnie and Oti’s space-age tango wasn’t great, in spite of his mun and guyliner.  Less futuristic cosmic extravaganza and more 'check out this game Snakes on my cool Nokia mobile phone'. All a bit too cardboard sci-fi, really, not that that’s Jonnie or Oti’s fault. So bye Jonnie and please let me give you MASSIVO props to your achievement here - his disability was pretty much forgotten on the dance floor, other than when it was briefly remembered to marvel at the way he moved.  And he seems such a lovely guy.  Deserving of our Oti, for sure.  Great signing - thanks the prod team.

Fewer thanks for the show though.  God it was a stinker.  The dances were one non-event after another, brought low by shoddy props and additional dancers, until Alex pulled out a competent if mildly forgettable quickstep and Gorks wore some spangly pants, then we got to hear Ride On Time (Rrrr-rrrrr-rrrrriiiiiiide on time) and watch the insides of Katya’s brain tip out revealing a mass of giant clocks (I said CLOCKS), day-glo rave and crimped bleached hair extensions.  That was... special.

I’m honestly half-tempted to leave the blog there, such was the shoddy nature of the rest. (But I won’t, OBVIOUSLY.)  It’s a perennial Blackpool problem this.  The slebs are knackered at this point, the dancefloor is too large for most dances (make ‘em all quickstep, I say) and the whole thing’s been overly hyped by an opening VT which is essentially a masterclass in (what I assume to be) dated Northern seaside clichés.  They’d be better off playing the glorious Everyday Is Like Sunday video (that is if Morrissey hasn’t got himself banned from national television by saying something which jumps the shark even by his recent declarations).

It was poor Debbie got the Blackpool brunt (and dance-off reward), being forced to samba as part of a Spice Girl tribute act, playing Geri in a Union Jack beach towel.  Again, not her fault - she samba-ed fine and might have been marvellous in a non-Spice samba that could have been as overblown and camp plus full of feathers and Gio in Anton’s sequined slacks and mariachi sleeves, AND still used up the dregs of Ruth’s wig budget.

Costume-wise, Mollie lucked out - she looked divine in her gold flapper dress and headband. Shame her routine was only 30% charleston and 70% AJ hoisting her inner thighs around his waist, arms, back and face - oh well, at least that was another opportunity for Darcey to have a pop at her wobbly core (I’d forfeit a core for her stomach, mwahaha like I have a core).

Kevin’s Strictly Ballroom fantasy fell a bit flat too - the first sign was when they stuck him and Susan on Death Slot Second.  I love the Strictly Ballroom film and I love Susan but this rendition was a bit little Scottish lady does some stamping and flamenco arms and a fair amount of waiting, whilst Kevin leapt about like a half-Spanish, half-Grimsby Michael Flatley.  We’ve seen Kevin do OTT paso doblés in his time, but this was no Susanna Reid channelling the passion with which she loathes Piers Morgan flounceathon.  

Still, they survived so think of Calman’s voting power!  Though Susan herself looked utterly confused when she heard she was through. She even threw an involuntarily sneery look at the camera: like, “what are you guys even thinking voting for us you complete tubes.”  But the cheers in the room were massive.

Also massive, Davood’s boobs.

Indeed so massive that they formed the main focus of his James Bond paso.  I don’t personally recall Bond wearing a sheer skin-tight sweater as he parachuted into the Olympic Stadium with the Queen, but if that was Nadiya’s interpretation, so be it.  Davood is slowly improving, which is pleasing - I don't think he'll sneak past Alexandra, Susan or Gemma but he might fell Debbie.

Oh Gemma!  I’ve forgotten to discuss Gemma again, haven’t I? 

So Sunday. 

I jest - but only just.  Thing is, I'm just indifferent to Gemma - I can't get irritated or excited by her performances - even when Aljaz turns up in tangerine shirt and tie.  This one was... argh, I just can't remember it.  There were tens and the tangerine, and there was...  Dunno.  I'm sure it was fine.  Gemma certainly doesn't deserve to go very soon, but I don't look forward to her dances very much.  Sorry.

What else did we get then?  Sunday brought a Northern Soul routine featuring Anton, of course.  Well I suppose he might well have been around at the time. (*Checks Wikipedia*, *notes he would have been a toddler*. *And isn't Northern.*)  Here's my advice if you missed that one and are heading to the iPlayer - close your eyes and enjoy the cracking soundtrack.  You’ll only be missing Brendan and Neil in ratty mullet wigs, some random break-dancers, the sleb girls doing the robot in Britpop t-shirts (WTAF), no sign of the sleb boys, some bracesography (trouser-holders, not teeth) and, - if that weren’t enough to exhaust your patience - an Anton solo in which he is lifted aloft like Jesus.  Where’s Jarvis Cocker to do a wiggle bum protest when you need him?

Mind you, it was better than the Cirque de No-leil we were dished up on Saturday, which I found very weird, and not in a good way.  Far too much going on, none of which made its mark - bar Oti in a vertical striped polo neck/cropped top, making her 99% boob.  I honestly feared she might topple over.

The best dance was probably the judges’ entrance on Sunday.  After Shirley arrived half an hour late for her Saturday entrance, chuckling merrily at her own tardiness, Bruno was dispatched to firmly take her arm and drag accompany her on in a timely fashion.

We got some 'we're so contractually obliged to do this'-promotional work, of course.  Blackpool is essentially 'Old Timers' week, so we were treated to Tears for Fears - going pro-dancer free.  Hellooooo, know your audience guys!  And no, it's not original fans wanting a replica performance of Everybody Wants To Rule The World straight out the eighties, only fronted by wrinklier versions of the band.  Mind you, I'm not convinced Brendan and Dianne cracking out a dramz-atic rumba to TFF would have been preferable, so...  *sighs*  

Props, however, to professional professionals Alfie Bowe and Michael Ball, who couldn't have given the Blackpool public a bigger collective fan-boner if they had tried.  Talk about giving the audience what it wanted (*coughs*clichés*coughs*).  They sang some old skool croone up at the back whilst out front a few of the pros birthed the Fred’n’Gingest ballroom you could possibly imagine - feather muffs, swishy silk skirts, Anton doing that glazed smile - all present and correct.  It wasn't in the slightest bit original, but it was highly enjoyable and perfectly pitched, so even this old cynic watched it through.  Michael Ball 2019 booking assured?  Tick.  (Who am I kidding?  MB's on the roster until 2050, his contract signed in blood.)

What else?  Someone sneezed glitter on to Tess's dress, but it looked fine.  Claudia, by her own admission, was in a leopard print nightgown.   Peter Kay misjudged the T&C hysteria for a moment to plug his tour - Claude looked rightly FUMING - and Lenny Henry misjudged the T&C hysteria by seeming a bit tired.  Also, amazing woman JK Rowling was in the audience.  I don't have many celebrity role models, but if I had to pick a sleb I admire, she's the one.  Her Twitter game is *kisses fingers*.  

Oke doke, back down South now, to something called the Paso Doble-athon.  God-Help-Us-All-athon.  Keeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep etc.

2017 - Week 8

It was time Ruth. You did your best, looking Catherine Deneuve beautiful, but Anton was to blame, churning out a boring ballroom after last week’s paso triumph. (That’s the last time I use "Anton" and "triumph" in the same sentence.)  Also, no wig, Ruth.  Tut tut.  Whereas AJ is clearly reading the blog and avoided the dance off, by all-guns-blazing-it in an embroidered bolero, bare chest and crisscross laced up naked corset belt. #justsaying.

Mollie was still a bit lucky though - it was a good choreography to an unexpectedly excellent paso song choice (Layla, car ad riff, flamenco arms, OLÉ!), but she isn’t quite as good as we all want her to be. I mean, if that had been Alexandra... shivers.

Because that Argentine Tango. Man oh man. Woman oh woman. Shivers indeed. My timbers were going haywire seeing her and Gorks stamping on each others’ feet and high-kicking on the banisters.  So exciting and tense and intricate.  Maybe not perfect perfect, but in spirit - well, we’re talking Rachel and Vinthent-levels, frankly.  

And speaking of, take a look at who was in the front row!  Mr Thimone himthelf!  Looking a bit old and unimpressed if I’m honest.  He's probably just peeved that he was replaced so quickly as Resident Comedy Sexy Italian by Giovanni the younger model, who may be less comedically red-blooded, but has a waaaay more Italiano name.  And if that wasn’t enough, Gio the youthful substitute got cougar-ed with the lovely Debbie McGee, rather than the terrifying Stephanie Beecham.  I'm not sure Vinthent is over that trauma yet.

Well done Debbie, surviving the older woman death knell that is the salsa (although set in an opticians WTF?)  Of course the main Debbie props go to her full-on bringing back a infamous and (literally) gripping move I didn't dare hope we would ever revisit.  Ladies and gentlemen, it's only the FLIPPING MIMSY SPIN!  Absolutely amazing!!! It had been some time since anyone had braved that sturdy hand/thighs of steel wedge classic. Not since Flavs and Eastenders Thingy got together off the back of it!  So you know *raises eyebrows*

Also getting in on some excellent lift action: Davood who chucked Nads over his shoulder and caught her by one thigh, which was a bit good, wasn’t it? I wasn’t entirely convinced by the rest of the dance, but that sort of made up for it.  Maybe it was Nadiya’s charleston chops - it’s tricky to turn such a conventionally beautiful face into cartoon gurning.

Am hoping dance-off victor Jonnie gets a charleston soon back - even if it might be tricky getting swivel on a blade (but if anyone can...). I just want him back in the lift game soon, and away from zzzz dances like this yawny foxtrot. Though TBF, I spent most of it marvelling at how Oti was clearly created in a lab genetically modifying towards humanesque perfection which shut down once they’d made Oti cause job done.

Job done too for Joe, not for being a perfect human, but for getting though the Dreaded Male Rumba without the audience collectively reaching for the sick bag. I too survived it vom-free; mostly distracted by Katya’s pink plumage/tentacles skirt.  Like she'd gone out in a dress made of boas, then jumped repeated into several puddles, so they became perfectly bedraggled by mud splashback. (Which reminds me, my toddler requested that I LIFT HIM OVER a puddle today.  A puddle-resistant toddler?!?  What kind of two year old, IS HE?  One who intelligently realises that his parents put him in inappropriate footwear that morning.)

Susan did good dress too - brick scarlet, complete with frowny tango face. Not my favourite of hers, but she’s still evidently caning the votes.  Blackpool (for yes, it’s next week already - they’ve gone pretty easy on the fanfare this year haven’t they?) promises a Strictly Ballroom-inspired paso. A great concept for K&S - unconventional ugly duckling wows overblown competitive ballroom world - but I fear it will flop, as I’m not sure that many of the core Strictly audience will have seen the Baz Luhrmann namesake (do - SO GOOD).

I remember nothing about Gemma’s performance. Seriously. Nada. Not even Aljaz’s trouser situation.  Ummm *squeezes brain* Nope.

To Sunday then! And the annual Remembrance Sunday pro-dance, with a rather touching soldier/sweetheart theme - the star of which was a battered bomber jacket, so take that Brendan.  It was actually quite affecting - even Anton saluting on a working treadmill had some poignancy.  Sort of.

Tess and Claude picked up Sunday’s sober tone in elegant black; Tess somehow pulling off a one shoulder cape, Claude in SKIRT ENVY. Darcey opted for skintight peach; it’s what the veterans would’ve wanted.

Seal turned up to croon something emosh which wasn’t Kiss From A Rose (*disappointment emoji*), to which Anton and Nadiya wafted around respectfully, in full Disney princess sleeves.  For the avoidance of doubt, it was Nads in the sleeves.

But the night’s highlight came at the very end - sombre tones be damned!  And against the odds, this moment in Strictly history was cemented by Mr Anton du Beke (I know!!!  What are the odds?!  Maybe I will yet re-use "Anton" and "triumph" in the same sentence).  Readers, I give you pile-on-gate, where Anton's last dance with Ruth culminated in him oh so gracefully lifting the trousers and reclining to the floor, ready for Ruth to straddle him, which she did, immediately, without hesitation and committing her full ballgown-ed body to the task, before the class of 2017 legged it in for a "PIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIILE ONNNNNNNNNN!!!!!!!!!!!!".   It was wonderful.

Special mention to a) Oti Mabuse, for leaping on in third and turning the situation from an intimate dry hump to a working pile; b) Nadiya Bychkova, for not really clocking the necessary aggression that drives a very cultural phenomenon and sweetly kneeling to the side and patting whoever had most recently leapt; and c) (and most of all), to Miss Debbie McGee, for legging it over when the pile was already high and committing to a full body leapfrog to the summit, pant flash be damned.  It was excellent work all round.  I just hope next Sunday's show ends with a round of British Bulldog across the Tower Ballroom. Brexiteers will simultaneously cream their pants at the most national of displays and express knee-jerk horror at such undignified violence on a family show. 

In short, they’ll maintain their natural state.  Oi oi, a bit of unexpected politics to end things there. Hope you enjoyed! Know what I’d enjoy? Boris Johnson resigning. Well this has taken an unexpected turn, hasn’t it... It's ok, we've got chips, gravy, donkeys and shots of that super cool seafront floor to look forward to next week, with such biting sophisticated political satire back to a minimum.  Taxi to Blackpool!  Keeeeeeeeeeeeeeepetc!

2017 - Week 7

Well. WELL. The Strictlysphere was due a shock exit, but I’m not sure anyone thought it’d be Aston!  What happened?  I’m still not sure really.  The forums went all guns blazing for Janette’s choreo, but I don't think it was that terrible.  Maybe the barbershop ‘fro theme was too incongruous for a snooty Viennese Waltz and they’d have been fine with some trad tails and slicked hair, which is a bit of a depressing thought.  Maybe it was Craig’s 4 (like RILLY?!), but equally that can garner fans to pick up the phone in indignant fury.  It was probably a combination of lots of factors, not least that this is a popularity contest as much as anything else.  Soz Aston.  Already missing the tricks Janette would've pulled out for your showdance.  At least you snuck a backflip into your final turn on the Strictly floor.  It's what the JLS fans would have wanted.

Mollie was perhaps lucky to get Shirl’s casting vote, but it did come from trotting out a marginally better ballroom performance (so I understand from the forums, fountains of all knowledge and bitchery).  So that doesn’t seem too unfair, but my best guess is that poor Mollie will still bear some of the brunt and end up in the dance off again this week.  (AJ will need to take particular care with his sartorial choice this week – a tight lilac trouser/cravat number at the very, very least.)  I’d rather have seen Aston dance next week rather than Mollie, but that’s not the test.  

Personally I’d have axed Gemma for that sack of tatties salsa (soz Aljaz).  Yes that’s right Britain, *deep breath* I would have kept Ruth.  There.  I said it.  Regular punters will know I’ve had my ups and downs with Anton (mainly downs, so many many downs), but I couldn’t help but enjoy that preposterous paso.  From the gurning to the handkerchief flares to the closing dry hump improv... Reader, I chuckled throughout.  Respect to Ruth for her quick-thinking and hen night channelling with that crotch to crotch collapse at the end - that takes balls (as it were).  Extraordinarily I now want to see what Anton will choreograph next, as well as which wig type Ruth gets to don.  Who’d have thought it would come to this?

Susan too would have definitely made my cut, in her glitter dunga-frock. Also nice to see Kevin Clifton dressed as a lesbian.  It was a joyful number, though obviously not my favourite Strictly jive to This Ole House. Haiiii Michael – any excuse for this link of comedy brilliance.

Also brilliant, Alex (obvz), throwing out a cha cha cha that I - SHOCK HORROR - really enjoyed.  More than enjoyed, really - she is just extraordinary and I’m not sure what it’s going to take for my fangirling to subside at this point.  (Also extra points for scarlet dress action with tassels.  Even Gorka dressed as a waiter didn't reduce my squeals.)

I do get that Debbie is brilliant too, but a TANGO to 'I Got A Feeling'?  ?!?!?!?  Woeful choice of music.  What were the production smoking?  Tango needs a moody, passionate piece.  Latin inspired.  Sharp and tense.  So what’s the ideal song?  Oh I know, that provincial club classic by the Black Eyed Peas - you know, the one they clearly wrote in a couple of minutes as a pisstake, to test out whether their fans, nay the world, were so into them that they’d make any old tat of a song into a global smash.  Yes that’s right, the one where they get non-singer Will-i-Am to croak out “oooooh ooooh tonight’s gonna be a good night”.  Maddening.  That Debbie still got a 40 shows how great a dancer she is. 

For me, it’s a Debbie/Alex two horse race, as I can’t see any of the charming but middling men outlasting them in a dance-off (then again ASTON).  But they are so very charming, aren't they?  Davood was probably the best of that bunch this week – his “bum lift” (thanks Darcey for the technical dance term) was cracking (terrible pun totally intended).  Though Joe’s wooden soldier charleston and drumography was also banging (even more terrible pun totally intended).  Jonnie’s salsa was mainly all about his sun-in blow-dry, but he remains my spiritual favourite (no terrible puns to offer on this one, sadly). 

It’s Friday, so probably best to wrap up, eh? I’ve little to add about Sunday’s show at this point, so let's go for the usual blah blah blah judging women’s clothes (indifferent all round this week), blah blah blah judging pro-dancers’ group dance (pretty terrible, in spite of Neil and Katya’s excellent duet), blah blah blah judging celebrity performance (actually it was fun to see that Kelly Stereophonics hasn’t aged at all – all hail Britpop botox).  

Really can’t call it for the next evictee.  So long as they don’t kick out my Alexandra, all will be well.  Keeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeepetc.

2017 - Week 6 - Halloween

Halloween Week. It promises so much, yet... Actually hang on. Does it promise that much? Or is it that we’re offered so much Halloween Hype that our eyes turn into unthinking pumpkinbots who can’t work out that a large pile of flammable hair pieces and brightly coloured contact lenses might not be the only key to an amazing dance...?

Oh miaow, but it’s not untrue. This was a bit of a lacklustre one at times for me, though PLENTY to get our apple-bobbing teeth into. Disclaimer: I have not apple-bobbed since a Halloween party at Nature Club in 1987. Apples and face full of water - least appealing Halloween treat.

Speaking of unappealing treats, Simon’s dancing, boom boom.  It was his turn to leave though I couldn’t help but enjoy their... let’s generously call it a ‘dance’.  We saw Rimmer leaping about in soon-to-meet-his-maker-on-the-toilet Elvis sideburns, whilst Karen did all the waltz-y work dressed as Bellatrix Bonham-Carter trying to assassinate Harry Potter with a chicken thigh - at a medieval banquet, no less.  So make of that theme what you will. (Not a clue.) Well done Simon, you took dad dancing to another level. I was expecting him to be way too Top Gear for my tastes, but his joy has been quite infectious, so I’m a little sad to see him go.

Bet Mollie was a bit relieved though. Dance-off shocker! Except not really, as this is where better (but not best) dancers start to get taken out by Anton-power. For yes, we are talking about a show where a middle-aged man in a pale taupe knitted sweater vest and inexplicable giant rabbit tail stapled to his bottom will regularly out-popularity-contest a gorgeous blondie in skintight red catsuit and devil horns. Both were camp (Bewitched quickstep v Kylie cha cha), but it was AJ what won it - in his scarlet bolero and high waisted SUPER tight trousers. Baby AJ costume-watch is totally a thing now. Like deciding what cutesy outfit you want to stick your toddler in for special occasions - AJ as an elf or Christmas pudding next then. And let’s not forget Ruth wig-watch: a rather more fetching Catherine Deneuve this week.

The DO result does suggest that Jonnie and Susan are riding high as crowd favourites, surviving what were - and I say this with love - a couple of outright stinkers.  I don’t want to go over Susan’s Game of Throne number in too much detail as I’ve not seen the latest series and I’m worried about spoilers (damn you George RR for not writing the books more quickly, damn you Sky for hogging the TV rights, and damn you me for not having the millennial wherewithal to know how to illegally download HBO seasons).  Still, Susan looked magnificent as a platinum blonde and Kevin looked, um, interesting, as the non-C4 Jon Snow. I’m sorry the judges made Susan a bit sad, but onwards Calman! To the jive. Oh. 

Onwards Peacock too, cause that pirate cha cha... Well. Hmm. Right. So. Ok. Look. Erm... Basically I’m not sure what happened there, but now he’s survived, it’s safe to say it: that cha cha cha was mince. I mean he looked VERY hot and he got all three of my votes (the two are NOT connected) but even Total Babe Oti wasn’t feeling that one.

Still, I preferred it to Gemma’s jive, which gets a big thumbs down for portraying Buffy as a simpering school-girlie who looked a bit sad when she killed her vampire boyf. No. NO. Buffy was magnificently hardcore and the Angel scenario was waaaaaay more complex and heartbreaking than a bit of a giggle then opening up a window of daylight and looking vexed. You can do better Gem. You trained at the Hollyoaks School of Dram... Oh. 

Aljaz as Angel though. Hello. It might have been a great jive in a more trad context, but this one wasn’t for me. Yes to another Buffy attempt next year thigh. Let’s get Faith/Xander in a sexually ambiguous tango.

Elsewhere Joe and Katya’s Black widow foxtrot bagged a very successful concept - but AGAIN with the inappropriate Coldplay *sigh*. Trouble, whilst a good enough song, is hardly the dramatic score you’d expect for an arachnoid crime of passion/murder scenario. Or perhaps I’m just smarting that it took quite a few “I spun a webbbbbb for youuuuuu” before it clicked.  Oh, I spun A WEB.  Web like a spider's web. A WEB. Ohhhhhh.

Sister Sledge’s Frankie isn’t an ideal charleston piece either, but man what a CHOON. Such an excellent guilty pleasure, so absolutely worth shoehorning in for a Frankie-enstein theme. Also worth slapping Gio in green make-up and an acrylic mullet, which made him look properly fugly, especially as he looked delighted to be so bad looking - Italian vanity never wanes. Debbie was as good as ever but I’m just not getting the emosh (though I would LOVE to see an older woman win the show that fired Arlene for daring to age). Also points off for taking far too long to perform a costume change. Call yourself a magician’s assistant, Debs?! That’s magic 101, surely. 

She did nip Aston to the top of the leaderboard though, in spite of his incredible paso to Smells Like Teen Spirit. Nirvana on Strictly? Amazing. (Though I’ll only be really impressed when it’s Rage Against The Machine, full swearing version.) Darcey was particularly impressed with Aston's posture: “How you pushed that pelvis out... Stunning.” LOLLLLLZ.

Also stunning, Alex’s zombie tango. And, not far off, Davood’s rumba, helped by Wicked Game (oooooh aaaaaaah bloody LOVE that song) and a coherent concept: Davood tries to sexy-dance with a dead loved ghosty one who keeps disappearing and doing some rumba poses whilst Davood in a blouse and Immac-ed pecs looks on sad and wistfully. It was poignant and slinky and even Mr Cad was moved to say “was that a rumba I liked?”. Well sort of, is the answer, as Craig and Shirley got a bit peeved because it was really a contemporary number disguised as a rumba.  Good old Shirls, outraging the audience and saying it like she saw it - merrily throwing a bit of shade at Nadiya’s choreography.  Though not as much shade as Claude got for her bad posture in whatever they’re now calling Len’s Lens. Don’t slouch in front of SB, dear. Ouchie. 

What else happened? Oh LOLLLLLZ, yes - STEPS performed. MwaHAHAHA. Can you believe no pro dancers volunteered to step up for that one? I wish I could admit I didn’t enjoy their appearance but there’s much delight to be had from guessing which ones hate the others the most after all these years (poor Lisa. Still.)

We were also treated to a couple of spooky pro-dances - one creepy Versailles wigs and corsets pro-dance in which make-up went all out with the white powder budget, and a brilliantly preposterous number in which Brendan got to live out his ‘I am Edward from Twilight/Tom Cruise in that vampire film look at my puffy blouse and tight trousers’ fantasies. Basically Brendan writhed around on a giant bed then got hoisted up into the air and writhed around some more, as pros of both sexes pole-danced in black lace and feathers. It was quite good really - you know, in a Brendan is ridiculous way.

Also good/ridiculous, Darcey as Sexy Red Riding Hood on Saturday, then appearing on Sunday in a dress consisting of lace knickers and a satin tablecloths. Tess did shoulder pad/Lady Di/Morticia red velvet cocktail out, whilst Claudia - who's still riding high from blouse magnificience - just turned up in the offshoots of the pro dance.  But the absolute costume-related highlight was Bruno, lamenting his hastily applied really can’t be arsed ‘scary panda’ make-up (I can’t see what else it might have been) and comparing himself to Craig’s brilliant Joker.  Standing up and going full latin, he proclaimed “Bravo to hair and make-up! Everyone looks wonderful! Except me, I’m being punished." Sarky look towards Craig and pouty wave of the hand. "I look like his mother.” Maybe you had to be there, but my, how I lolled. 

Back to ‘normality’ this weekend, though it’s got to be shock boot time - the power of Jonnie, Anton and Susan probably too strong for the likes of Gemma or Mollie? We shall see. Let the “I just want to get to Blackpool” games begin. Keeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeepetc