Series 11 – Week 7

So who would fail at the final pre-Brighton, sorry, pre-Blackpool hurdle?  Well, no real surprises - it was time for our Dave (Dave-Dave not Darcey-Dave), bless him.  Karen's last stand was to try and coax Scotland to vote for him, but sadly it wasn't a comical MacTriumph of a MacTango (Mr Cad is Scottish so such racial stereotyping is MacFine) and so it had to be his time (MacTime).  Sorry Sweepstaker Jo, that means it's your pound's time to go too.

I know the power of the kilt - Mr Cad was wearing one the evening we met (the power of whisky is also noted), but sadly it didn't work for Dave on this occasion.  The unfortunate reality is that Dave actually attempting to ballroom dance wasn't as entertaining as Dave just doing his thang with a very vague nod to a ballroom or latin style, in a silken shirt slit to the navel, whilst Karen wore a complimentary fruit basket on her head.

However, well done to the Wonderful Orchestra for managing enough Proclaimers' influence without going full Leith pastiche.  (Cue plug for the wonderful Sunshine on Leith film, which will nearly bring you as much cheesy joy as Dave's cha cha, though apols for the term 'cheesy joy'. Not sure that's such a seller...)

Of all the 'joke' contestants we've seen over the years, Dave has been my favourite, because he really did seem to utterly love the experience, and his partner, rather than appearing to endure the whole thing for cash and a shot at the panto circuit.  It felt like we were laughing with Dave, rather than at him.  I think the Hairy Dancers simply lost steam a week or two ago, and the cheesy joy started to mould slightly.  I'm just going to remember the good times, personally: the Cuban Pete salsa (tears of joy), the Meatloaf Paso (tears of wonder) and, best of all, Does Not Quite Move Like Jagger (convulsions of pant-wetting laughter).  It may not have been the polished dancing the final will (hopefully) throw up, but the first half of Strictly would have been relatively dull and uneventful without Dave’s enthusiasm for hair and dance.  We'll remember this series as the Hairy Biker series, and that says a lot.  Here endeth the MacTribute.

As for Dave's dance-off opponent and fellow big man, well, I'd have been sad to lose Mark at this stage, as I think he's a better dancer than the judges (LEN) give him credit for (honestly, what was Len on about on Sunday? His walnuts were in a right old state!).  But more importantly, I cannot allow Ivetamazeballs to be taken away from us just yet.  Yes, the Dr Evil/Chairman Mao costume, with matching white pussy, was fantastic, but really their rumba was all about one thing only: Iveta's spray on lamé catsuit, in all its golden camel-toed glory.  (Poor Ola, last week Karen slagged her dancing skills, this week Iveta reclaims the catsuit. Harsh stuff.) 

Iveta Luckypeashooter has been the revelation of the series, as far as I'm concerned.  Did you see her wish Patrick Happy Birthday on It Takes Two (27.40)?  Genuine quote: “Next time I see you, I gonna hug you, I gonna kiss you and I gonna KRRRRUSH YOU *dramatic pause* VIZ LOVEFF. I'm not ready to miss what she choreographs next (I'm guessing another slow mo leg extension) and nor should you be. Else I vill KRRRRUSH YOU! Viz a giant crushing machine (*dramatic pause*) of loveff.

At the other end of the leaderboard, well, no Natalie for starters, as she fainted during rehearsals and had to be taken to the hospital.  Horrible stuff, and I hope she'll be ok - it's just not the same without a performer of her quality on the dance floor.  I was really, really looking forward to seeing her 'Tonight Matthew I'm Going To Be Tina Turner' jive to Proud Mary, which promised super sharp kicks and flicks and plenty of Tina Twerker, and which I'm sure would have been sensational. Not least because her hair looked MAGNIFICENT and Artem was going to be jiving in orange and pink paisley with clashing braces.  Hopefully they'll get to do it in the final, complete with Chigvintsev medallion and Gumede wonderfro.

Instead, Patrick took a turn at the top of the leaderboard - and well deserved too, I think. That was a cracking American Smooth - especially the hopscotch on the stairs bit, and there were brief glimpses of Anya and Patrick chemistry to boot.  Sure it was a shame that Anya's skirt got caught and there was a slight lift kerfuffle at the end, but I think my sweepstake £1 could be safe for another week or two at this rate – depending, of course, on when he's forced to do a rumba.  That could spell danger, and financial inconvenience, ahead.

Mind you, Twitter wasn't hugely happy that Patrick was the recipient of Dave’s ten paddle, with plenty commenting that Susanna had the dance of the night.  I’m never a massive fan of the waltz, but I agree that this one was very lovely, even if it opened with Susanna shivering (get her a Sara Lund jumper then!) before auditioning for either a hand cream or a fairy liquid ad; rubbing her hands sensually as Kevin arrived to whirl her around.  It’s hard to avoid schmaltzy mush with the waltz, but this was just the right side of the romantic cliché for me - though I bet little girls up and down the country were going NUTS for it and making feminist mothers nervous as they squealed glazed-eyed delight at the peachy pinkness and feathery foufeiness of Susanna's dress.  Hopefully the moment will pass when they realise the inconvenience of dragging several flamingos around the town.

Speaking of flamingo dresses - Ola's quickstep number: drunk famingos on acid, and yet another gown that may not help the worthy Pink Stinks cause (though, I'll be honest, it was a bit too Neon Ballroom Barbie for me).  I actually really enjoyed Ashley and Ola's quickstep, though I'm always a sucker for a quickstep, so the bar was low, to be honest...  But I will admit that I've been a bit mean about Ashley's commitment to rehearsals in the past, as I'd forgotten that he has a full-time job on Hollyoaks, which I'll accept may be fairly time-consuming and not an unreasonable time commitment.  I'm just not getting enough personality through - nice bloke, bit beige.  I mean, think of us bloggers - we need meat for our sarcastic quippery.  Meat or disaster.  Ideally meat.  And cue...

Mr Cohen!  Hi!  Or 'coooeeeeee' as my friend Vix might say (translation: HAS SAID) to an attractive rugby player. 

At first it looked like Kristina was banking on a backflip to get Ben through another week, but I suspect she panicked slightly when it had to be springboard assisted, so JUST IN CASE went for Plan B: ahoy matey, à l'eau, c'est l'heure!  I think most of us (NAUTICAL GAG ALERT) were ‘on board' with that sailor's outfit, especially when such taut white slacks were part of the costume.  (Popeye-popping stuff.) 

As for their dance... Well, we all know that I'd be first in the queue to endlessly swoon at the altar of Ben Cohen, but it's not Strictly Come Big Unit, people, and he is going to need to up the dance ability to win, in my view.  I appreciate that it is harder for a giant hunk of ham muscle to do a sprightly jive and, on balance, it was probably more Jolly Roger than drunken sailor, but still...  It wasn’t AMAZING – and, as Rugby jives go, Austin Healey can rest easy for now.

(And so can Erin – that turquoise jive dress would still be excellent on a pregnant lady.  I do hope she's getting it taken out for her third trimester, when I'm sure jiving will be top of her To Do list.)

Fiona also had some excellent dress action - she's been getting a consistently kind run from Wardrobe, who, let's face it, are picky about their preferred charges.  Fiona's paso didn't quite grab me as much as her dress - it looked jerky and awkward on first view.  But I watched it again closely to see where Anton went wrong (and missed that completely, as my eyes are programmed to mainly avoid Anton) and I decided Fiona wasn't actually too bad at all.  I can't risk watching it a third time, because... well, Anton in a turtleneck and matador trousers that could have gone up a size or four – that’s beyond the call of duty, peeps.  (I mean, I thought Ben's trousers were snug...)

Then again, on the subject of snug trousers - and it is an important one, I accept - it's worth pointing out that there is a thread on the Digital Spy forum called “Aljaž's arse appreciation thread”, which currently runs to three pages and which I have visited for you all in the name of research - it's ok, there is no need to thank me, I take this role seriously, for better, for worse, for arse. In summary, there is much appreciation for said bottom (“peachy deliciousness”, “nom nom”) alongside queries about the identity of the mysterious 'Caron'.  Hot stuff. 

To be honest, not that you'll believe me, I didn't notice the buttock situation during their charleston, as I was too busy wishing I could quickly take hold of Abbey's wig and yank it straight, even though I accept it was purposely asymmetric.  I also wanted to get my scissors out and cut off the hanger tags that were still attached to the shoulders of her dress.  But apart from that, excellent work, obviously.  It's impressive when a dance of theirs engages me to the degree that I forget to drool at Aljaz (bum or other attributes), so seriously bravo.

Another “bravo” to report - from my mum in fact, who is French (Strictement Maman), so can use the word legitimately, without the risk of sounding like a local UKIP councillor judging a WI cake sale – oh the irony.  Strictement Maman doesn't bother with the early stages of the show (“ca m'enerve”), so it was all new to her. And her verdict?  Gushing Gallic support for Brendan and Sophie's Argentine Tango.  As far as I could discern there were two main reasons: 1. The music was “traditional” (yes, by that well-known Argentine band, Los Eurythmicos) and 2. Strictement Maman has long fancied Brendan (that particular gene must be thankfully recessive), which she reiterated to me thusly: “oui, c'est mon chouchou.” (French is such a romantic language, there's nothing like confirming affection by referring to someone as your 'cabbagecabbage'.)  I have to agree that it was a good AT, but, for me, it wasn't an AMAZING one à la Ramps or Beige Rachel.  It certainly had its moments (and a crazylush dress) but I think it needed more oomph of some kind - a bit more tits and teeth perhaps, but in a classy Argentine Tango way.  It's the same old Sophie story - she can't quite chameleon her gawky cool style away.  But, yeGADS, she's gorgeous.

(However, broken record time, and just for the record: 

THE ARGENTINE TANGO SHOULD NOT APPEAR UNTIL THE SEMI-FINALS, ARIIIIIGHT?)

On the other hand, something that should appear, and weekly: Claude and TessTess on the Saturday show.  I'm sorry Bruce-fans, but the show is so much better without him.  The magic was there right from the off, as the awkward Tess thigh rub was replaced by a Gal on Gal paso drop - excellent arm muscles, TessTess! (I know there's not much of Claudia to weigh you down, but still...)  Avid readers will know that I used to loathe ol Tess, but I've gently warmed to her ways (mainly since she stopped sniping evil questions at contestants in the Tesspit) and perhaps if she'd had the camaraderie of La Winkles with her from the start it wouldn't have always been thus.  Course that might have meant that I found it all the harder to slate her DressMess, which would have been a terrible loss, so... well fate, eh?  As it happens, I thought her Saturday purple tribute to Angelina Jolie's leg was rather fetching.  I even went so far as to muse that that’s a few weeks of more or less acceptable outfits we've seen, so good work, Tess.  Well, you know what happens when you let your guard down?

POLTERWANG PANTSUIT HORROR.

Honestly, after all that good work, Sunday was back to an outfit that ghosted Tess with a saggy bum and low slung boobs.  Did no-one tell her to beware the unflatteringness of the embroidered corseted baggyarsed jumpsuit?  The country house curtain bodice (even Maria wouldn't have gone there) with Eiffel Tower effect edging wasn't great, but the trouser end?  Just awful.  I can’t even...

Let’s swiftly move on then, to Sunday’s opening pro number: a tribute to the armed forces or to Pasha's finest moment - the Chelsehhh quickstep?  (Another possibility is that the Wardrobe intern mistyped the fabric order, like Kurt on the Apprentice mistaking centimetres and inches, and ended up with a little more turquoise Lycra than Vicky Gill was expecting.)  

Excellent work from the Puppini Sisters too - not only willing to have the pros dance in little hats to their number, but happy to don matching outfits too.  The Tenors made less of an impression on me (USP: one of them is a bit shorter than the others), but we did get a lovely performance from ¡Manrara! and Aljaz, even if he was wearing yet another number from the Skorjanec Special Manlace collection: a blouse with built-in jacket lapels, no less.  In Tess' defence, at least she wasn't wearing that.

And so it’s time to head Oop North. Well, apart from Darcey - it’s unclear where she’ll end up, but if she’s travelling on that scooter in a perfect arabesque [Editor's note: it was in fact an attitude, as pointed out here - I'm now working through the ensuing trauma], it may take some time, regardless.  As for me, I'm off to see if I can get a seat on the minibus TessTess & Claude are co-driving up the M1 - I can only dream of the banter and mixtape action.  Keeeeeeeeeep beeeeeeeep beeeeeeeeeep.

Series 11 – Week 6 - Halloween

Well, megacontroversy ahoy this week – by which I don't just mean Dave surviving (more on that later viewers), but much scandalous hoohah from an alleged bullying incident splashed all over the bastion of truth that is the Daily Mirror, which pitted meek Ola Jordan against fiery Karen Hauer... And there you go - 'meek', 'fiery'... already I'm using emotive language and failing to LEAVE IT PHIL.  Instead of retaining the superior moral high-ground  I've taken the tabloid bait and run with it.

Might as well carry on then.

The story goes one of a number of ways: the official Beeb line is that Karen and Ola had a row, Karen was in the wrong, apologised and we're done here people.  Ola's spokesperson reported that Karen “verbally attacked” Ola, but the BBC got involved and Karen apologised - so more or less the same as the official line, but with fun added blame.

So those are the 'facts' (i.e., the tightly controlled PR), but what of the real juicy stinking tabloid meat we're all hungry like hyenas for?  Well *that* story goes like this: Awful Horrible Karen New Girl Who Does She Think She Is Hauer waited until Chivalrous Never One To Meanly Bait People It's Just Bantz If You Don't Like It You Have No Sense Of Humour James Jordan was out of the room, then set upon Lovely Timid Wouldn't Say Boo To A Goose Not Known For Being Feisty Oh No Ola, and apparently Karen said Ola was always at the back of group dances because - despite us having eyes which suggest the contrary - Ola's rubbish at dancing.  (Dancers bitching to other dancers!  Imagine!  I can't believe any of them have had to put up with THAT kind of thing before, what with being part of an industry that has such a mild and easy-going reputation.)  ANYWAY, Ola, rather understandably you might think, was a wee bit upset at being called a shit dancer, so she immediately threatened to quit (a 'source' said it, so it MUST be true), before deciding that the show must go on, heroism ahoy and it was probably better to fulfil one's contractual obligations and bravely continue appearing on prime time terrestrial Saturday night TV - after all, Ola couldn't leave Ashley in the lurch, even though he's only willing to spare five minutes each week away from his own PR to train.  Best of all, the fight ALLEGEDLY took place during a pro-dance rehearsal and Pasha 'swoon' Kovalev had to hold Karen's hair extensions back to stop her from tearing out Ola's hair extensions (let us all briefly dwell on the erotic potential of Pasha in a catfight sandwich) and sure, there was an apology and the Beeb say it's all sorted and no-one's quitting or getting fired or upset any more, but why leave it there when you can throw words like 'bullying' around?

I imagine the reality is somewhere in the middle – Karen had a go and was made to say sorry, Ola was still a bit peeved and her PR leaked the story... WHO KNOWS?  It certainly didn't stop the Digital Spy forums respectfully speculating on who was the most likely bully in the cast (most popular choice: Kristina) or Twitter getting affronted because someone might have said something mean and bitchy, so responded to the horror of someone maybe saying something mean and bitchy by saying something definitely mean and bitchy, repeatedly to Karen's twitter feed, until Ola asked them to stop, though that may have spurred them on, who can tell, because applying logic to this situation is just ridiculous.  It’s still going on on the forums AS WE SPEAK.

Dear God.  And I can't even rise above it, as I've just typed all that and haven't deleted it. 

The point I suppose I'm trying to make is that it's a shame that people... Well, it's a shame that people. Period.  That sums it up neatly.

This wouldn't have happened on Erin’s watch.

ANYWAY, this also means that I haven't reported Rachel's exit til now.  So let's do that, shall we?  Bye bye dear lovely but terrible dancer Rachel – dancing the “abominable American Smooth with her partner Pasha 'Killer' Kovalev” (as the BBC made voiceover man Alan Dedicoat say - abominable might be slightly harsh, but... ahem).

Sorry Sweepstaker Abi, that's your £1 down - but we will all mourn Pasha leaving.  Not only is he Pasha (HELLO), not only was he dressed as a pussycat (PURRRR), but he's now a brave cat-scrap intervener and defender of the peace (OUR HERO).  But let's face harsh facts here, peeps. Being Pasha just wasn’t enough to propel a lovely gorgeous girl with a not-great (atrocious) dancing style to the final.  I know that everyone else thought Rachel had improved this week, but I still found her pretty dire on the dancefloor and, in spite of a geniousse move on Pasha's part in casting her as a wooden mannequin (she was MEANT to be clunky and inelegant you SEE), it wasn't going to go anywhere in the weeks to come, was it?  Week 6 and still not pointing your feet - that's just basic, however happy you are to be hoisted up on to the Kovalev shoulder.  (Orderly line, please.)

On that basis, I may be alone, but I wasn’t so sad to see Rachel go this week - I’d still rather have one more week of Dave, as I tend to prefer ‘LOL’ rubbish to ‘oh love, this is just awkward’ rubbish.  But my support rests on the proviso that Dave brings back some comedy for his (inevitable?) swansong. This week’s Monster Mash jive was lacklustre and disappointing - no fruit wig or leather cape-work for starters.  It half felt like The Hairy Dancers were trying to actually DAHHNCE, but Dave's technique was still so dreadful that the judges didn't even notice and failed to dish out any ensuing credit.  It's tough stuff, though I suppose Karen had other things on her mind - like swapping her silent PR company for a passive aggressive spokesperson.

Still, the upshot of the public saving Dave was the shocker that was Abbey rumba-ing with “Aljaz 'Scabby' Skorjanec” in the Dance Off - basically sealing Rachel’s fate.  And it was a shock!  I didn't see that one coming, even though it totally happened to Kimba last year, in pretty much the same circumstances.  I felt sad for Abbey.  I liked her rumba - turns out it's not such a cringe-fest when it's danced by two people whose beauty is off the scale.  Clearly the public disagreed and didn't phone in their masses for them (or click five times on the internet), though I'm sure we all appreciated Aljaz's Tory Wife blouse and its lack of buttons. 

Abbey must have come bottom of the public vote to fall so low.  I imagine Sophie's fan gang got voting, after she scored 6 (and Ben scored 9 - I know his pecs are rather defined, but COME ON). It also gives us a glimpse of Anton’s terrifying popularity, as I really thought Fiona and her partner “Anton 'Deathly' du Beke” would be dancing again.  I wasn't hugely taken by their “chilling charleston” - I mean, there's a misrepresentation for starters!  It was a polite charleston in scarecrow outfits, where the make-up theme was 'sticking one's face in a cow pat'.  I can see why Make-Up might be happy to stick poo up Anton’s nose, but there was no need to drag Fiona into it.

The charleston is already niche and characterful (I'm feeling generous), so it doesn't need a fancy dress theme to jazz it up.  Really, it's too wacky and silly to be scary or sinister (well, purposefully sinister) and Susanna and Kevin's charleston was a prime example.  It would have been as good, if not better, if it hadn't been to Bad Moon Rising (a terrible song for a gurnfest) and we didn't need to see “Kevin 'Corpse' Clifton” turned into a hairy garden gnome which has just been electrocuted.  No TV make-up dept has has ever successfully managed to turn a man into a convincing werewolf - even Oz from Buffy just looked like fake fur had been sellotaped to his face, and Kevin's costume is no exception.  And I won’t comment on the hair type used, other than to say ‘suspiciously curly’.

Faring better in the costume stake was “Anya 'Gruesome' Garnis” who did some magnificent stripper work in her “quivering Quickstep” with Patrick - from Sexy Pumpkin to skeleton prom dress (with excellent skeletal booty detail on the behind) in less than a nano-second.  See Deborah, that’s how you do the quick costume change.  Next step – Eurovision, with a song about culitvars of squash and old bones as a metaphor for love and world peace.

Tell you who else would go down well at Eurovision – Ben's chest.  Out and proud.  Sure his “petrifying paso doble” was a sexyfest, but I'm not convinced it was the dancing wot done it, even if he did manage some good spinning bits (yet again, Strictlycad dazzles with her dance lingo) and threw “Kristina 'Rancid' Rihanoff” around a bit quite effectively.

Less effective, but (as I've said) far more harshly scored was Sophie “nerve-jangling jive with Brendan 'Creepy' Cole”.  It was a gangly performance really, all long elastic limbs, not helped by Sophie's red peplum catsuit - although I did enjoy her Asymmetric Morticia wig.  Brendan's still rocking the eighties - I think we can now safely assume he's just bringing his own clothes in.  That doesn't explain why he choreographed a snog with Cher behind the bins mind.

Artem made better use of his props - a dry ice lake from which Natalie could rise like pond scum to... a couple of TENS!  Yay!  (At least the mildew forehead make-up was worth it.)  Her lady of the lake Viennese waltz was just lovely, I thought.  I'm sure there will be a debate as to whether it deserved the score it got, but it suited me and, more importantly, it suited the narrative of the series.  Elsewhere, Artem clearly only accepted being filmed as a disembodied microwaved head in the VT intro if their dance could be introduced without the crappy Halloween words - did you notice Alan didn't spice that one up?  No ‘vile’ or ‘vicious’ Viennese Waltz from them – just a plain old simple one, in a fake lake.

Obviously Ola hasn’t had the time for such negotiations this week, as Alan Dedicoat called her and Ashley’s performance a “terrible tango”, which wasn’t accurate at all.  I still don't like ATD, particularly he seems to be doing the show to promote the crappily-named single, ‘Playboy Bunny’, which sounds excellently misogynistic, unless the content is in fact decrying pathetic fluffy ear-based female objectification. (I can’t tell, as Google has failed me, but, let’s be honest, it seems unlikely.  Course, if it is a feminist proclamation, rather than, say, a song about tits, I am prepared to apologise in print.)  At least Ola had a lovely old week fashion-wise - that electric blue tango dress was wonderful.

I had to rewatch Mark's “poisonous paso” with “Iveta 'loathsome' Luckypoopoo” – all I could see the first time was Iveta flashing her crack.  Don't get me wrong, I think Iveta is the don - I just don't need to see quite so much of her.  Anyway, on second viewing, I'm happy to report I thought it was aces – Mark (or Dave as the judges called him, but then Darcey got called Dave too, so mwahahahaha, am still laughing at that one) produced an excellent camp spaceman macho vibe and danced it pretty well to boot.  Also, well done to hair and make-up for doing Iveta as Mars Attacks meets Insane Clown Posse.

I suppose all the Halloween costuming meant that Tess and Claude could wear whatever they wanted and have a week off being so harshly judged (though I noticed that lace jumpsuit, Claudia, and I wasn’t happy).  In fact, I’ll even go so far as to chalk up another Tessdressyes on Saturday – rather lovely midnight blue lace, excellent for Halloween and not in a freak show kind of way.  I will even skip over the sheer side panels.  Darcey’s hair also looked excellent, even if I’m not convinced the world is yet ready for a crimpers revival.

It was the pro-dances that raised a costume eyebrow – let’s gloss over the pelvic bones and origami knickers for the Madness performance, which I like to think took place at the end of the pier which leads to Erin Island.  It was Timewarp which triumphed - I should know better, but I really, really enjoyed it.  It made good judge use, with Craig having to vogue sitting-down and Bruno getting a cameo, leaping from the desk and assuming the Tess Crucifixion position – he has been gagging for that for YEARS, clearly.  It made good trouser use too – Pasha in tartan (McYUM), Karen in stripy ho-leggings – both of which are going right into my Strictly Trousers Top... well, it has to be a Ten now, there are so many entries.  And it was good to see Robin in a full-on string jumper.  He may be out of the competition, but at least he’s achieved full graduation from the string training vests.

And we’re done!  Next week is THEME AND BRUCE-FREE!!!!  (Although Bruce had his moments, this week – shhhhhh, I didn’t actually say that.)  Even I’ll admit that it’s got to be time for Dave to get back on his bike and ride off into the TV sunset, to cook up joy and Christmas cookbook sales.  I am concerned by the threat of a Dave backlash though – a man that lovely shouldn’t have to face the wrath of the interweb.  He should be free to frolick and gambol like the delight he is - just perhaps not in a ballroom, sadly.  Unless.... who’s in for a backlash against the backlash?!  Keeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeping hoping!

Series 11 – Week 5

Dear me, that were Proper Sad!  We got an actual speech sniffle breakdown from our Robin as Deborah was fired - and with just cause.  It was a real shame and a good few weeks too early.  I found their power struggle Viennese waltz theme rather taking, and preferable to the usual pseudo-romantic mush, but there really was just too much table-faff at the start.  (And not even a Trump-esque ‘LOOK AT MY TESTOSTERONE’ mahogany monstrosity - more a school dining room table ready for a post mushy pea wipedown.)  I don’t even think Robin needed to kill time that way - Deborah was pretty passable in hold.  Poor Bobby does get confused sometimes though, doesn't he?  To him, two ribbons of cotton are a ‘vest’ and 'business' is playing pictionary on a perspex board up the Gherkin.  Bless.  Anyway, sorry Jules – your sweepstake pound was a failed investment.  But mostly, sorry Deborah - the British voting public failed you.

I do think the judges were right to save Patrick though, and not just because he’d hurt his wrist rollerblading - an unfortunate, but hardly surprising injury (we're talking about an activity that gave my sister a full chin beard bruise).  However, his one-handed salsa was as unmemorable as all of his other dances, so I can't see him lasting long, even at full double-fisting strength.  Patrick and Anya just seem to lack any TV oomph - clearly Wardrobe didn't even think him exciting enough to sew up a bespoke sequinned bandage.

Though Wardrobe were perhaps too busy working on the real outfits to pimp up a wrist support.  Indeed, dresscellence (yes, bitches, 'dresscellence') was a real theme this week.  I can’t decide which gown I craved the most really, maybe Abbey’s, no Sophie’s, no Iveta’s, no Fiona’s, no Rachel’s... (Mwahahahahaha I jest - *never* Rachel’s).  And alongside dresscellence was a more unwelcome feature - “messin’ abahht”.  The pros have learned to avoid the faff (and Len’s wrath) in Week 1, but seem to think it’s ok to sneak it into Week 5 instead.  We got cage-faff, guitar-faff, letter-writing-faff, transparent-umbrella-faff, hiding-behind-a-theatre-programme-faff, having-a drink-and-wiping-Anton’s-brow-eww-Beke-sweat-faff...  Len was not amused – his walnuts definitely remained unpickled.

The oddest faff of all was Ben and Kristina’s sofa-and-pillow-fighting-faff.  Look Kristina, I miss the endless Friends repeats on E4 too.  Genuinely.  But you just need to add Comedy Central to your cable package, and you'll be fine.  Moreover, choreographing a quickstep to the Friends theme tune is never going to bring you quite the same joy as Ross and Monica's routine - that's the dance inspiration to seek from that show.  Though I'd have happily seen Ben skip about to any old jaunty pop tune to be honest.  Buttocks like a shelf. 

Indeed it might have been such attributes that saved Ben, who scored the same as Deborah.  Only Rachel and Dave scored worse, but as soon as I saw Karen walking down the stairs with a fruit bowl on her head I KNEW the Hairy Dancers would be fine.  It was a salsa triumph, from the Aldi Carmen Miranda stocking up her supermarket trolley with fruit and Biker, to the ruffle-sleeves, aeroplane spin and maracas-ography.   Plus I’m a total sucker for a conga, even if it is only a two-man.  (Craig, on his reinforced hip-op chair, was probably only fake-furious because he couldn’t join in.)  If they keep trotting out joyful comedy of this eye-watering standard, then I will be on board for quite some time.

It's Rachel who should have gone, I’m afraid - that dance was not good.  And I know things aren't great after a Dance Off week, but that's no excuse to don a scarlet mirkin in the name of telephone votes - no damage limitation is worth that!  I like Rachel, she seems to demonstrate the more positive attributes of human nature and she's properly stunning, but please don’t make her do vamp again.   Her Sexy Face is Pouty Squished Face, and it has something of the toddler on the potty about it (let's hope that acting coach is happy to offer refunds).  The paso itself was no better, sadly - it seemed to consist of Rachel angrily doing Heads, Shoulders, Knees and Toes, before Pasha grabbed her and made her headbang in hold.  To be honest I can't actually believe the public saved this over Deborah and Patrick, but such is the power of The Pash.  No-one is immune to wanting another week of Kovalev.  I know I’m not.

Speaking of Russians and swooning, I wonder how many hours and promised favours it took the production staff to get Artem to shake his maracas in a Mexican hat and Spanish flag poncho on camera?  That must have been one tough negotiation - I predict he gets the ringer for series 12-15 AT LEAST.  Apparently, the Chigvintsev samba was a Strictly first and I can see why they’ve tried to resist it appearing on a family show to date - talk about pelvic!  Ofcom will sooooo be getting letters.  At least they tried to sex it down by sticking Artem in polyester slacks and a Travelodge waistcoat.  As for our celeb, well Natalie was typically and joyfully excellent.  Her dreaded samba was so good it made Len fart.

Speaking of farts...  No, I have nowhere to go with that one.

Let’s move on to Ashley then, who squeezed 30 hours of training into ten.  Was this because he was at home caring for his new-born and other child?  No.  It was because he had vital self-promotion to do, like going on Lorraine and 'doing radio interviews'.  Pfffff.  (Can you tell I’m not warming to ATD?)  I do quite enjoy a rock’n’roll jive, and Ashley’s a perfectly competent dancer, but Ola Jordan needs a more charismatic cheeky charmer to bring out her comedy genius and ATD is stifling her.  At least he let them bouffe his quiff.

Aljaz, on the other hand, had unappealingly flat hair this week - though the grease pot only makes a teeny dent in his insane handsomeness.  Sometimes I wonder if we should all don sunglasses when he and Abbey appear, such is the power of their combined beauty - it's the kind of thing that can inadvertently start a terrifying sex cult.  I thought it was unfortunate that the pre-dance VT focused on Abbey's nerves, as it made me notice just how terrified she looked throughout her foxtrot.  But the judges saw more than this mere amateur, raving about her performance at length.  

I preferred Susanna’s American Smooth personally, which was as lovely as you’d expect, if a mite too yellow.  I mean, how many Big Birds had to die to make her skirt?

It was actually Mark who trotted out my favourite ballroom of the night - a charming (faff-free) waltz to a three-four cover of Apologize, with added synth – I would not be averse to more R’n’B being presented in this way.  The more I see of Iveta, the more I rate her.  I even enjoyed the ‘Finishing School’ ‘lesson’ she ‘organised’ for Mark where his 'upper-class' ‘teacher’ ‘Lady’ Henrietta was wearing tartan tights and platform sandals - I'm accordingly dubious about her aristocratic credentials.  Mind you, it is a feature of the very very posh that they can wear absolute gubbins, provided it’s made by an approved fusty label*, so maybe my suspensions should be allayed.

I’m sure Fiona Fullerton could have provided just as good a lesson in saying ‘heow neow breown ceow’ in a cut glass voice.  Fiona must have felt vulnerable after a few weeks knocking around the lower end of the leaderboard, so it was time to wheel out the Bond endorsement - not that Moore, Roger Moore is quite the attraction he once was in a Jacuzzi.  (I sense he’d have trouble rocking the Daniel Craig budgie smuggler.)  But Fiona done good on the dancefloor and made it through her quickstep without much de Beke shunt and drag.  She was rewarded with 8’s - not a paddle Anton’s used to seeing. But let’s not dwell on paddles that Anton is used to seeing, eh?

Indeed, let’s move swiftly on to Sophie and an apparent chink in her hipster armour – turns out the cha cha does not lend itself quite so well to cool natural elegance, sadly.  She is still SO PREEETY though and adorably cool.  No wonder Brendan is embracing the show with such gusto this year.  He’s also embracing the eighties, I note – yet another Miami Vice blazer with the sleeves pushed up.

Actually, the pro-dancer costume budget for the week probably all went on the geisha mini-dresses and white tights our ladies wore on Sunday night, leaving limited funds for the guys; I'm sure I've seen the red wrap tops they wore in Dorothy Perkins.  (My working theory is that Dottie P’s didn’t manage to sell off all the plus-sizes, so Wardrobe got a bulk deal.)  Beyond that, I’m not sure what the dance was about, perhaps Japanese Jets and Sharks (fans v parasols), but it had some cracking lifts in there and a weird jerky quality that I truly enjoyed.  I even coped with Anton’s exposed chest.

No exposed chests from Tess, but sadly not quite enough bra hoiking either.  However, it’s Claude who gets the honourable #messdress mention, in her vicar’s collar meets leather armchair furnishings meets Percy Pig meets tent dress.  As awful as it was, ultimately, when you are as brilliant as Claudia Winkleman, who actually cares?  Best just to move on and get down to some Earth, Wind and Fire - or Soil, Breeze and Damp Squib as Mr Cad called them.  It’s true that they don’t quite have the lung capacity they used to, but at least we know the tunes well enough to imagine the original studio recordings, and they were quite happy to let the pros dance to their hits, which always gets extra points from me.

And there we have it.  I’m still sad about Deborah to be honest.  But it's ok, as we have Halloween Week to look forward to (SARCASM ALERT).  Time to shoehorn some scary into songs and dances that have no connection to anything remotely eerie or frightening.  Let the fake neon eyelashes adorn our dancers' eyes and let the baldies be bewigged in cobwebs!  It's time for Make-Up to go ker-azy.  Keeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep it spooky. 

Series 11 – Week 4

T'rah Julien – it was always going to be thus.  In many ways it will be a relief not to have to stare at Julien’s terrifying grin and his immovable eyebrows, whilst wondering when the coke high is going to fade and he’s just going to stop dead and topple over, like a clockwork toy (possibly, allegedly, don’t-sue-me-ly, like-you’re-going-to-read-this-ly).  But, on some level, I will miss the constant refusal to use an ‘indoor voice’ and his OTT enthusiasm for the Strictly wardrobe.  At least he left in the finest creation to date: a special mix of electric blue/purple chiffon and sequins, with a giant shoulder broach made by an overexcited five year old with badly supervised access to the sewing box, a Christmas cracker and some Pritt stick.  Sorry sis - it's Isabelle who loses her £1 this week.

However, I hope this isn't the last we see of Jeanette ¡Manrara! who looked resplendent during their salsa in a bikini dress made of Poundshop streamers – how many party poppers do you think they had to set off to make that one?   She also looked utterly illegal in a red jumpsuit during her show-rumba with Artem - I believe the dance term is ‘tutti fruity what a booty.’  At least it’s answered that timeless question: ‘who on earth looks acceptable in a jumpsuit?’.  The answer: teeny professional latin lady dancers.  I wonder how much her boyfriend Hot Aljaz enjoyed that performance...

Controversially, I’d have used my Fantasy Judge Vote to save Julien over Rachel in the dance off.  It was basically 'WTF hot mess' versus 'WTAF hot mess', and it was Julien's hot mess which I ‘preferred’.  The problem with Pasha and Rachel’s quickstep was that I didn't have a clue what was happening at any point of the process.  I mean, there was a giant metallic contraption (were they on a submarine?) and Rachel was dressed as... well, she was wearing an air hostess' hat, a stripper's waistcoat and posh gentleman's mustard trousers, so you tell me.  In any case, she looked terrible.  I didn't think Wardrobe would ever find someone they hated more than Holly Valance, but this might be it.

On the subject of looking terrible, oh Tess – you were doing so well, but Sunday’s white mini-dress was a lumpy return to #messdress and then some.  From what I can garner, Wardrobe just stuck some sequins on a tablecloth (or maybe that five year old did it) and then wrapped it around Tess and stapled on some saggy white chiffon - I’m not even sure how it’s possible for chiffon to sag, but la Daly managed it.  Mr Cad articulated the problem perfectly during Sunday’s goodbye section: "Tess has several inches on Claudia, but their chests are in the same place." EXACTLY. EXACTLY!  Saturday was mildly better, but still saw Tess continue her trend of using bits of old tights to customise her dresses - with lacy black tights, not worn since the eighties, stretched over the arms.  On the plus side, Tess did have excellent bedhead and total fox face throughout Saturday's show.  

Also rocking fox face: Darcey. I don't usually comment on (bitch about) Darcey, as she looks nice as standard, but it’s worth saying that this Saturday, la Bussell looked AMAZING. Girl crush level amazing.  

Sophie Ellis-Bextor also looked gorgeous, but that comes as no surprise.  More surprising: she made me want to try the foxtrot (unprecedented).  It’s her effortless über-cool that does it, I think - although I'm slightly nervous as to where the copycatting might end.  Foxtrot is bad enough, so let us vow right now not to all have matching heart arm tattoos by the end of the series, eh? (Together we can be strong.)  I’m starting to peg Sophie as a real contender for the trophy - the terrible moves in the Murder On The Dance Floor video (and indeed pun references to it) are well behind us.

Obviously, Natalie remains the main contender, but – and this sounds awful – I was ever so slightly bored by her brilliant competence in the quickstep this week.  (Only very very very very very slightly, mind.)  But it was still HIGHLY EXCELLENT, in spite of the gurning and the horrific wafty culottes.  I mean, it had caneography!  It had spat dance shoes!  And it had a topiary mohican!  (For if you are going to tether Natalie’s incredible giant hair, this is the only acceptable way I've seen to date.)

At the other end of the scale - dance-wise, not hair-wise - was Fiona.   Mind you, she should be given extra points for having to stomach rumba-ing with Anton (dear God, ‘Anton’ + ‘rumba’, words I can barely combine without retching).  Sadly, there was another end-of-dance crash for Fiona, but, given the circumstances (coping with Anton's latin sex face) it’s not surprising.  I'm not sure World Of Our Own was the best musical framework for a raunchy rumba, but it was ultimately for the best, given how it kept the steam down.  At least the danger of an Anton rumba is over for another year, eh?  And although we might still have to face a samba, we can take solace that there could be some excellent trouser potential on that front.  (Ewwww, that sentence did not read how I meant it to read.)

For his samba with Susanna, Kevin From Grimsby wore some safari linens – but the REAL costume news is that he finally bowed to external pressure (again, a sentence that does not read as I meant it to read) and kept his spexy specs on - well, an elastic band kept them on, as he pretended to be a bespectacled Indiana Jones rescuing Susanna, dressed as 'Sexy Pocahontas'.  (I can only deduce that he was saving her so they could go to Britain's most randomly themed fancy dress party.)  The Wonderful Wonderful Orchestra's Shakira cover was special too – I don’t think they had the budget to wheel in some actual panpipes, so had to opt for the ‘Panflute 1’ setting on the Dave Arch synthesizer.  Sure the dance was a bit messy, but I would never criticise anyone for giving it their all to Whenever Wherever - we’ve all been there.  I even have vague notions of requesting it several times at a friend’s wedding and getting my way, before going mental flamenco on the dance floor.  Please note: this is not behaviour I could possibly sanction or recommend.

Perhaps Robin and Deborah were also on their way to the same fancy dress party as Kev and Suse, ostensibly as 50% of Buck’s Fizz, though Robin’s wig was clearly Vinthent’s Scooby Doo hairpiece, re-dyed.  Strictly and Eurovision are basically two of my greatest loves, so this should have been right up my street, but... it fell flat for me, sadly.  It didn’t help that Deborah was jiving in orthopaedic sandals and the mini-skirt reveal turned out to be a space-age silver tube skirt (even Jeanette ¡Manrara! might struggle with that look).  No, the real issue was probably the choice of song.  When you look at the Eurovision back catalogue (and I would urge the bravest of you to very much do so), Making Your Mind Up, whilst fine, is actually not the performance from which to seek inspiration.  Not when you have THIS.  Or THIS. Or THIS!!!!!!! etc etc etc.

Actually, the fancy dress performance of the night – indeed, the performance full stop of the night - was Iveta and Mark's hip hop cha cha.  DEAR GOD I HAVE SO MUCH TO SAY ON THIS.  Firstly, we must admire the majesty of Iveta Supersharpshooter training in a leopard print catsuit WITH MATCHING LEOPARD PRINT TRAINER SOCKS. AND THEN!!!  IN A TIGER PRINT CATSUIT POSSIBLY WITH MATCHING SOCKS WHO KNOWS THERE IS NOT ENOUGH CAPSLOCK IN THE WORLD.  In short, animal-print-tastic.  

I bloody love Iveta - or rather I bloody loff Iveta – she’s just brilliant.  Take her accent, for example, best described as 'sexy evil villain of indeterminate Eastern European extraction’: “Marky Boi, I'ff got you some accessories.”  And she's playing this with a choreographic expertise that rivals James Jordan’s.  Their cha cha was perfectly pitched after last week’s more serious attempt and went right back to Mark’s strength – theatrical comedy.  Obviously it's a given that any dance in any context (stage, club, shower, bus stop) to U Can't Touch This will be an utter triumph, but it was the details that marked out their cha cha: Mark in a vicar's collar sprayed with gold lamé effect; Iveta’s hair fashioned into a severe Vilnius facelift; the choreography, which was a clever mix of comedy hip hop sections with Mark at the forefront and cha cha sections with Iveta at the forefront, all culminating in a slow motion leg extension to make your eyes pop.   Like Darcey, I loved it.

Even better though, was the ensuing scoring sequence, as Craig's 3 was followed by Darcey’s incredulity and a defiant "8!", matched by Len also showing 8, with Bruno falling off his chair in faux camp disbelief, before rapping out his own "s-s-s-7".  HELL. YEP.  Mr Cad and I have watched it at least eight times and I’m still crying tears of actual laughter.

Elsewhere, Dave and Karen toned down the comedy this week, but I still very much enjoyed their super cute waltz.  Dave is just totes adorbs, really, and that’s all there is to it.  Karen looked smokin’ - she is clearly loving her partnership.

For her part, Abbey also looked smokin’, but there was a bit too much smoke if you ask me – what was going on with her eye make-up (again)?  There’s smokey eyes and there’s looking possessed.  I didn’t really like her Kate Bush billowing sleeves for a tango either, and really, although the judges found it AY-MAY-ZING (as Tess pronounced it), I was slightly 'meh' about it all.  Probably it needed Florence herself to belt out Spectrum.  Oh HELLO – there’s a new one for my ‘Future Celebs Wot Should Do Strictly’ list.

The judges were also keener on Patrick’s cha cha than I was.  I thought it was nearly really good, but Patrick and Anya are still suffering from being competent, yet not particularly exciting and memorable, even if Anya does train in her pants.  Though Anya did take my advice (yeah, course she did) and the Casualty arm muscles came out - short satin sleeves ahoy.

Sadly, however, there were only really room for one set of guns on Saturday - and that would be Ben 'swoon ad infinitum' Cohen.  I understand that there was some salsa going on, but, in truth, I spent the whole thing with slightly dewy eyes endlessly repeating 'my God he's so hot' like a dribbling idiot.  Yes, there was a bit of car faff, but THAT VEST...  I mean, THOSE LIFTS! Spinning Kristina like she was nothing.  If Ben doesn’t have to dance, he will go far indeed.

Ben might even be real competition for the main male contender: Ashley Taylor Dawson.  I’m struggling to warm to ATD, somehow.  I found his Viennese waltz with Ola rather mincey - though 'wafty' seems to be the technical term, if the judges can be trusted on such things.  Ahem.  We also discovered that Bruce has an aversion to a waistcoat without a jacket – like the opposite of socks and sandals.  It's actually a rule I'm happy to support, especially if your waistcoat is made of white satin.  That was preeeeeeety rank. 

Are we nearly there yet?  I think we are!  I’ll leave the comment about Sunday night's child's lock burlesque pro-dance to Mr Cad: "Kristina in that giant cocktail glass is basically playing the part of a bubble.  It's like being third tree from the left in the nativity.”  Indeed.  We also saw Natbot cameo as a newsreader, presenting the headline story: “Who stole the glitterball?” (Aliona, clearly), as well as the graphic department having a right laugh during the judges voting - never will I tire of seeing two glitter balls perfectly aligned with a lady dancer's boobies.  Yes, it’s lowest common denominator immature.... and?  In fact, on that note, I’m off to watch Bruno fall off his chair as the judges discuss the tightness of their respective bum cheeks.  Classic stuff.  Until next week, peeps... Keeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep clenching!