Series 12 - Class of 2014. The Slebs

Frankie Saturdays

Pop star (girl band branch)

...Though I’m lead to understand her real name is Frankie Bridge, which seems like it should be a place, rather than the name of a pop star. She's the Saturday with the short hair, who used to be in S Club Babies, so I imagine she will be fairly capable at inappropriate gyrating, if nothing else.  Then again, I’d have said that Rochelle Saturday was going to be a shoo-in at Christmas, but after her ‘Giraffe bambi legs’ special...

Strictly Cad's wildly inaccurate pro prediction: She seems teeny. Kevin from Grimsby?

Judy Murray

Mum of Andy

An utterly inspired signing, if this nothing-short-of-schamazing Twitter beef with Yoko Ono is a reflection of anything. And how could it not be?  Those who see her as a furious haridan with no happiness in her bones have a surprise coming.  I'm sure she's genuinely intimidating, but the recent interviews I've seen suggest she's utterly hilare as well.

Strictly Cad's wildly inaccurate pro prediction: If any grown woman can make Brendan Cole whimper and cry, it would her duty to partner him.  (Judy will blates get Anton.)

Alison Hammond

Token ITV presenter

From Big Brother when it was ‘good’ to an actual TV presenting job – that's living the nineties dream, that is. Alison seems a drinking-buddy-esque delight, and I’m willing to bet she’s secretly graduated from the Lisa Riley Big Girls Can Move Too School of Dance. I’m sure it was a terrible embarrassment at the time, but if you can recover from jumping on - AND BREAKING - a picnic table on national TV, you can cope with showing your cha cha to Craig Revel Horwood.

Strictly Cad's wildly inaccurate pro prediction: Brendan please. Mainly as it will piss him off, because he's too shallow to see beyond lithe and thin.

Thom Evans

*SWOON KLAXON*

I swear I couldn't find the official Strictly photo, honest.

Also *Strictly Cad is about to go on at length about chesticles klaxon*

Anyone worried about missing Artem or Robin's man titties need worry no more – not only does Thom offer giant pecs, he also has a full head of hair and the squarest jaw known to mankind; it's like it was sliced with a sharpened spirit level.  And I've had time to observe, as I've had a giggly crush on both Evans brothers since I started courting a Scottish rugby fan seven years ago and was introduced to the joys of thigh watching rugby. I fantasy cast Thom in at least 2012, so I am clearly 100% personally responsible for this one. YOU ARE WELCOME.

Why is Thom famous? Oh yes. There's been some online sniping about Thom's lack of international rugby caps/achievements, which is a bit harsh, given that he had to give up professional rugby after suffering/surviving a horrific on-pitch neck injury, which could have, you know, killed him. After unsuccessful dalliances with Commonwealth sprinting and Kelly Brook (their joint levels of good looks unprocessable by us mere mortals), he opted not to go back to his pre-rugby 'career' of boy banding (click with caution), and turned his full attention to 'fitness modelling'. So he's a famous fitness model, sillies!

Anyway, google at your leisure and marvel at his laughably clichéd good looks (but be wary of some homoerotic pseudo incestuous definite NSFWness from the Dieux du Stade shoot).

Strictly Cad's wildly inaccurate pro prediction: I notice Natalie Lowe has already removed her hair extensions in anticipation of the acrylic-nails-eye-jab scrap over this one.

Simon Webb

Pop star (boy band branch)

One love for your mother's pride - what a lyric!  It's him out of Blue. More excitingly, I high-fived Simon at Eurovision. Simon appears to have done some sit ups in his time, so at least there'll be a lycra distraction from the excruciating cringe of the man rumba.

Strictly Cad's wildly inaccurate pro prediction: Ivetamazing's paid her dues. She deserves a good 'un.

Mark Wright

Ugh. They went there.  

Yes, it's Ex-TOWIE meathead and professional tabloid fodder, Mark Wright. I'm guessing the BBC's *completely foolproof* plan is to steal the millions and millions and millions of ITV2 viewers over to Auntie by bringing in someone with the requisite IQ.  But maybe Mark has hidden depths.  I suppose he will be already used to fake tan and shirts unbuttoned to the navel.

Strictly Cad's wildly inaccurate pro prediction: Teflon Aliona's bound to wangle someone with potential this year, so I hope it's Mark and I can panto-hate the pair of them. (Until they turn out to be adorably charming. The bastards.)

Sunetra Sarker

Her off Casualty

This year's Don't Know The Name But Oh Yeah I DO Know The Face. From that time she used a phone as a pretend defibrillator in some VT or other, she seems fun. That's all I have, I'm afraid.

Strictly Cad's wildly inaccurate pro prediction: Why not Pasha?  Lovely Pasha.

Jake Wood

Him off the soaps

Baldy Evil Eastender doesn't really narrow it down much, does it? I don't think he's a Mitchell though, based on rudimentary watching at Christmas.

Strictly Cad's wildly inaccurate pro prediction: Poor Kristina always gets the middle-weights. Why should this year be any different?

Steve Backshall

Nature TV presenter 

Steve's announcement immediately inspired this text from my sister: 

Topless likelihood? High?

Affirmative.

It's like they cast it purely to please us.

Strictly Cad's wildly inaccurate pro prediction: I'm sure Karen could drum up the requisite enthusiasm about terrifying animals. And pecs.

Scott Mills

DJ

When Mr Cad and I are tired on a long car journey, we keep alert by supplementing caffeine intake with listening to Radio 1 on full blast.  It's 'better' than Red Bull.  Scott Mills is one of the more articulate Radio 1 DJs, but I mainly like him as he's the BBC's Eurovision deputy. So that's two Eurovision connections in this year's Strictly – it's fair to say my excitement levels are set to 'high'.

Strictly Cad's wildly inaccurate pro prediction: Let's go with Joanne from Grimsby. Newbies usually get a nice ride.

Pixie Lott

Pop star (solo 'artist' branch)

She did that song about Boys and Girls. You know, all the boys, all the girls, la la la something.

Strictly Cad's wildly inaccurate pro prediction: One of Trent or Tristan, the new, and no doubt initially interchangeable, pro boys.

Caroline Flack

TV presenter

Caroline reportedly shagged a young man named Harry Styles and everyone was shocked and appalled because SHE WAS OLDER THAN HIM. Well done, society. This is apparently one in the face for the X-Factor, who fired her last year.  So let me get this straight... we're trying to seek revenge on an ITV show, for which many Strictly viewers have limited-to-nil interest, by taking on someone they no longer wished to employ, because they - and the viewers - presumably didn't rate them much, so we're taking them on to draw attention to both that other show and the fact that the calibre of celebs this year is 'those who have undergone a sacking'? Way to go, Strictly Producers! Yet another brilliant ploy!

Strictly Cad's wildly inaccurate pro prediction: One of Trent or Tristan, the new, and no doubt initially interchangeable, pro boys.

Gregg Wallace

Cooking judge

All together now: “DANCING DOESN'T GET ANY TOUGHER THAN THIS”. Greg's the baldy judge from Masterchef who gets divorced a lot. Masterchef is that show that I'm sure I'd enjoy and want to blog at length, but there are already only so many hours and I'm not sure I have time to get sucked in.  Then again, I recently wikipedia-ed each and everyone of the individual Eggheads, so...

Strictly Cad's wildly inaccurate pro prediction: ¡Manrara! One more year to prove your mettle, Janette, then it's 2015: Ringer year. I'm with you!

Tim Wonnacott

Antique Expert

Antiques Roadshow Dandy. He'll be given kindly compliments about his waltz, the latin will be more of a challenge, and then we will say bye bye.  Not that the show's got formulaic or anything.

Strictly Cad's wildly inaccurate pro prediction: Ola, no question. After James Jordan's petulant rantathon and Big Brother meltdown "I am the Brad Pitt of the dance worlds", there's no way they're risking her staying longer than Week 1 .

Jennifer Gibney

From Mrs Brown's Boys

Look, I don't watch Mrs Brown's Boys, but I know what it's like to have a Proper Lolz Shameful Comedy Secret: I flippin' LOVE Miranda. Sure, Jennifer Gibney isn't hugely famous, but fame is basically the least most important quality in a Strictly contestant, IMHO. I think this is a sterling line-up and can't wait to see Claudia and Tess manning HMS Strictly without Bruce in sight.  Haters gonna hate, hate, hate, hate, hate, but, well, fuck 'em.

Strictly Cad's wildly inaccurate pro prediction: I actually don't think Jennifer will get Aljaz – that level of manprettiness will probably be reserved for one of the baby poptarts – but he's the only one left and I can't be bothered to rejig now. So why not Team Gibjaz? #teamgibjaz

Tumble Week 1: a (surely one-off) review

I'll be honest - I'm highly dubious about competitive televised celebrity gymnastics. Shameless (and, sure, some not so shameless) fame-seekers trying to pick up a highly specialised skill it takes years to hone and that's if you started at a young age...? Well, we all saw Splash. Actually we didn't - which is my point. 

Still, I lurrrrve watching gymnastics and GB's team members are on a bit of a post-Commonwealth high, so why not trying sticking slebs in lycra and getting them through the BAGA awards. If Your Face Sounds Familar can get commissioned then probably anything is possible. 

Indeed, things kick off VERY promisingly with a flipping good (FLIPPING! GEDDIT?!) group gymnastics routine. It's particularly enjoyable as one male gymnast has been styled in shiny cycling short unitards reminiscent of Miami beach's campest roller bladers, whilst the women are in seventies clown fabric one-armed leotards. The tumbles are rather watchable too. 

Alex Jones is in charge - she arrives from the ceiling on a giant hoop, but has opted for armour in dress form rather than a leotard. She introduces the judges:

Louis Smith, we know. His arms are as Mr Tickle-esque, and his hair as Mr Ridiculous-esque, as ever. 

 Then there's Nadia Comaneci – her of the perfect tens. She's in extra sharpened red heels and a power suit and looks AMAZING. Equally brilliantly, she continually says encouraging things with the delivery of a Bond villain about to kill, making "Good job!"sound like "And now you die." 

We also have circus performer and choreographer to the stars (Cher – so that's bona fide) Sebastian Stella. I zink ee iz Frrrrrrench. He has gigantic arms and, unexpectedly, a wife. 

Finally, Craig Heap is an ex-British gymnast, from when Team GB wasn't such a contender.  Despite being in his, let's say, forties, he has the hairstyle of a McFly member circa 2003. He's been cast as the severe judge for the audience to boo and whilst he generally remembers to use seemingly bitchy similes, for example, likening the contestants' tumbling to washing machines or Blackpool holidays, these always end up being nice comments – for Craig loves washing machines and Blackpool holidays. He scores everyone a 5 to compensate. 

Contestant time. Have we actually heard of our 'celebrity' tumblers? Well, yes, for the most part. We can't even always say that of Strictly. Who are they and how did they fare. Well... Let's do dis. 

By the way, they all have actual gymnasts to perform with, so it's not just a random famous person doing seven roly polys on a mat. 

Amelle of the Sugababes (who everyone is pretending are still a thing) looks like she's come fresh from a Vegas circus show – she's taut and bendy and quite happy to wrap herself around both hoop and gymnast man in shiny leggings and torso. She's excellent.

Is Peter Duncan the ringer? I mean everyone knows the Blue Peter audition requires demonstrating rgymnastic prowess (interviewing someone on a trampoline). His floor routine training VT suggests that his performance will mainly consist of a teeny athletic woman launching herself at him, whilst he vainly tries to catch her, as she careers over his head; culminating in a move called the pigeon. Come showtime, he's managed to learn the art of catching, as well as the art of 'balancing a woman on his head'. He's still to master the cartwheel though. 

Andrea McLean of Loose Women can't spin, which is problematic for a spinning aerial hoop routine. They try to compensate for this by implementing the tried and tested Strictly method of adding in a whole load of “messin' abaht” at the start - attaching a washing line to her hoop and having her start with some laundry. She looks ok once she gets up there though. Disappointingly, her partner Alex is not in demin-look lycra dungarees, as I had first thought, but in a stonewash vest.

H "from Steps" and "from being really, really annoying" meets his partner Holly then announces “and as if that wasn't amazing enough, my coach is called Alex”.  Meeting someone called Alex. Incredible. H is being asked to perform a dance routine and he's not happy about it, which seems odd, given how often he pedalled the Tragedy voguing on national television. Terrifying TV choreographer Karen Bruce gives him a stern onscreen 'pep talk' - it's a shame we didn't get to see the off-screen bollocking, as that would have been way entertaining. More Messin' Abaht, as H and partner (such a shame she's not a Claire) start by flipping burgers - if that's meant to be a kinetic pun than Must Try Harder. H does manage a backwards flip thing (Louis calls it “a round off top back”) and a handstand though, so that is some gymnastics. He also uses Holly's leg to play the guitar – which makes me wonder WHY DIDN'T THEY GET JET FROM GLADIATORS ON THIS?!

The Showmance plotline has been gifted to CBBC actor Bobby Lockwood – and it is being HAMMERED HOME with multiple references to “will they or won't they?” (they won't). The hoop routine is mainly ballad-y music (for the romantic) and excessive red light (for the SEX) just in case the five billion references to enforced chemistry left the viewers in any doubt. The routine does bring about some interesting comparisons though – Louis claims that he was as moved by the performance as he was when winning an Olympic medal (sheezus), whilst Craig compares his Commonwealth career with Nadia's perfect tens. Nadia looks fairly unimpressed – though it could be that she's had work done and has a fairly immovable face.

We then learn that Mr Motivator was supposed to be a contestant, but the show broke him before they reached primetime (noooooo!!!!). The BBC thank him for his service by making him appear in a skintight lycra catsuit of neon pink, yellow and green under his leg cast. *Sad face*

Lucy off of Towie does a floor routine consisting of fake tan and PG tantric sex positions on a sunbed. She's elegant enough and wisely lets her professional take on the actual gymnastics.

Sarah Harding is probably my third or fourth favourite Girl Aloud (it's a tough field out there - Nadine grabbed second when she threw a Twitter hissy fit that *she* didn't want the breakup. Nicola is always first). I can see why Kimberly got the Strictly gig though – Sarah, point your toes, woman! The climax of the routine is Sarah hanging off her partner's neck – which is scary, sure, but probably more of a reflection on his neck strength. Besides, Cheryl (fifth favourite) nailed acrobatic fearlessness on BBC1 prime time when she jumped off a balcony.

I wonder if we'll get Cheryl coming to watch one week. Mwahahahahahahahahadinfinitum,

Some woman from Dynasty who isn't Joan Collins or Stephanie Beecham does some floor work. She starts the routine in a fur coat so long it would rival Princess Diana's train. As for the gymnastics, well, I've sort of stopped concentrating, to be honest. I've also just realised this show is an hour and a half. AN HOUR AND A HALF.  I'm now using the fast forward function on my remote. Expect limited detail from this point. 

Ooooh, I thought boxer Carl Froch might fall off his hoop there, but he managed to stay on. He does seem quite strong though – there's a move where his partner hangs off his knees with her feet, which is up there with the Flavia/Matt mimsy spin from their somewhat amazing Strictly show dance.

They've obviously saved Eastender (and former Rum Tum Tigger) John Partridge to last as he's the best by a country mile – shame most people will have lost the will to care and/or live by this point. It also helps that he has a contortionist for a partner.  Bendy times. 

And that's the lot, fank Gawd. My tip would be to watch til Peter Duncan then stick it on x8 speed til the end. 

The end *is* worth watching though – the male Team England and Scotland Commonwealth gymnasts put on a highly entertaining Better Together routine, where they tumble and spin and pommel and vault their way through, on and around various apparatus, without the pressure of competitive scoring. There's a little bit too much deferring to Louis' pommel skills (amazing, sure) and an unnecessary bow tie jive interlude, but even with that it's the highlight. The best bit is Nile Wilson and Kristian Thomas on the high bar. But I love little Tintin-alike Nile. He just looks so overjoyed to be there. If they promise me Fragapane at some point then I'll be back for this bit. No question. 

Finally, we learn that there will be a vault off next week. Loser leaves. Potential facepalming or arsefallingon? OK. I'll probably watch. (I clearly will.)

My review in a nutshell: Tumble is quite good for the first and last 15 minutes, but like Donna Tartt's The Goldfinch and the big fat yellow Harry Potter (Order of the Phoenix?) it needs some SERIOUS pruning.

Series 12 - 2014 Show and Pro Preview

Out

So it's SEE YA wouldn't wanna BE YA to James Jordan's receding hairline. It's sort of sad to see James go, as I'd picked him out to be my panto Vilani this year, but there's solace in the thought that his Twitter feed will be an amazing source of genuinely bitchy petulance.  He's already started throwing all of his dance toys out of the dance pram.  I imagine it will make Arlene's post-firing marathon tantrum of RTing praise about herself seem like a mild gripe. Prepare for an onslaught of James Jordan fans throwing grammatically dubious versions of 'your' in our Twitter faces.

It's au revoir to Artem's inflatable man pecs too: 'visa problems' (got a job in Merica, innit). It's sad to see Strictly's facially-blessed 3D manchesticals disappear, but we've still got the beauty in Aljaz and the steroid-ed nipple action in Robin, so we can continue to objectify men enjoy the main male aesthetics of Saturday night ballroom dancing prime time. And let's not forget Kevin From Grimsby's glasses.

In

Another From Grimsby no less – Kevin's sister Joanne. (*screams of nepotism!!!!* Oh yes, most morally unsound for Strictly to hire the reigning Ballroom World Champion.)  It's sad that Bruce is leaving just as a name he won't mangle arrives on the scene (NB: IT IS NEVER A SHAME THAT BRUCE IS LEAVING).

Actually, Bruce might well have coped with the name "Tristan McManus", who is newbie #2 and the Man Newbie.  Tristan is Oirish, which is technically foreign, but something tells me the Daily Mail won't be so quick to churn out another 'oooh, they're all foreign dancers on Strictly oooh Britain is DOOMED oooh foreign urgh here's a picture of (foreign) Ola in her pants oooh urgh baaddd' article this time.  Anyway, Tristan seems not-unpretty (which is all we have to judge on, OK?)

Oh and yes – goodbye to Bruce Forsyth. I'll admit that you weren't a terrible captain of HMS Strictly in the early days, but you should probably have walked the plank a little sooner - METAPHORICALLY I MEAN.  I genuinely wish Brucie a happy, relaxing, golf, private tap-dancing and joy-filled retirement - away from our screens.

Back

Natbot Lowe – her leg has been mechanically repaired and my Nats-based hatred has been completely deprogrammed, so I'm cautiously excited about her return.  But let's see whether her NAKED AMBITION chip has been fully disabled, as there's always the risk that the Winning-Versus-Appearing-Lovely settings might get overridden once Natbot starts her necklashwhipping ballroom head spins going- it takes a sturdy fembot control board to survive that kind of pressure.

Teflon Aliona has somehow wiggled her way back into the full time list too. HAHAHA – I'm so impressed by her staying power that maybe I don't even dislike her anymore. (Of course I do.  HELLO OBVZ.)

!!! I've just realised that I completely forgot to add Anya Garnis to the Out list. I think that says it all, sadly. You remember Anya... Partnered Patrick... Did a Chitty Bang Bang number... Looked about fifty on It Takes Two and about twenty years younger on the show... Yes, her!  Sorry Anya.  Am sure Hayley Holt will have some words of comfort for you.  You remember Hayley Holt... Clad Mark Foster's giant chest in mesh material... Um... Um.

Last year's survivors - the women

Hooray for the return of Ivetamazebombz and ¡Janette! ¡Manrara! who I like, even if I am ON MY OWN.  Yes, ¡Janette! is probably back because Hot Aljaž is her boyf, but she dealt with Julien Macdonald last year - and for more than one week. AND she didn't get to go to Florida as compensation.  The BBC totally owe her.

Ola's back too - and Jamesless no less.  Whilst her mortal enemy Karen Hauer will be surrounded by her fiancé-from-Grimsby and her sister-in-law-to-be-from-Grimsby, so Ola had better be on her best behaviour (without James to wind the world up, I'm sure she'll be fine.  Let's not forget the Chris Hollins Lovely Olachops year, eh?).  It's a KEY year for Karen, in my mind. Year 1 was boring Nicky Beigelife. Year 2 was comedy fruitbowl hat Dave Hairybiker. Year 3 will probably seal her TV personality in my mind for at least a decade to come regardless of how she acts in the future. So it's all to play for!

And then there's Poor Kristina Rihanoff.  Oh Poor Lovely Kristina. :-( She's going to get the dud this year, isn't she? And not the 'oh so nice and handsome shame he can't dance' dud, but the real actual 'he's in his sixties, no-one female or gay has really heard of him and he's only doing the show which he's never watched because his agent talked him into it ah well you'll only have to perform in the first week anyway' dud. Hang on in there Rihanoff! You might get to thigh clamp in 2015!

Last year's survivors - the men

Aljaž Skorjanec – so preeeety

Pasha Kovalev – so lovely

Kevin Clifton – so spexy

Robin Windsor – so peccxy

Brendan Cole – so old

Anton du Beke – so very, very old, but at least he's not presenting. PHEW.

Still no...

Katya – BOO. SHAME ON YOU, STRICTLY. SHAME ON YOU.

Hoping for an It Takes Two slot

Ian surely? Unless he's run out of especially long and especially tight trousers.

Erin? She's got a baby these days, so is probably quite delighted not to having to nurse Anton busy. But hopefully she'll pop by with baby in tow for some televisual Ball and Boag squealing.

In charge

And the whole thing will be womanned by TessDressMess and Claudia – YAY TO THAT!

But first, Summer.  So enjoy the three days of sun and the rain on the Bank Holiday Weekend, people.  It will be darker evenings, the lurgy going round and not having to shave your legs every bloody day before we know it. Hooray! 

In the meantime, keeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep your money safe – for the sweepstake beckons...

Series 11 - The Final

And so the trophy goes to… well, the wrong winner, I think.  (Sorry Abbey!)  I was always Team Natalie, and that was even before she pulled out the American Smooth to out-do any other: all intense craze-eye, mascara down the face emotional, dance-gurning to the very core of her dance-pain.  She went to the very edge of her everything and ended up "TOUCHING THE DIVINE" (this may have been Artem, but it wasn't entirely clear).  Anyway, after that, like an alien invasion brainwash wave across the UK, the Great British Public suddenly accepted that there was no right choice beyond Natalie Domination, but…. well, it was too late to get enough phone action in (I'd already used my five free interweb votes, so…).  Look, I don't think Abbey was a terrible winner (I mean, I didn't hit the rage-level I did when Tom Chambers beat out Beige Rachel), but it did feel like a bit of an unfair anti-climax. 

£15: As for the sweepstake, happier times - well done to one of my original stakees, Vicki, who beat out her dad Terry, as well as Holly and Justine, to win the pot.  KER, and indeed, CHING.

And let's continue to focus on the positive - congrats to brave Aljaz, so very very hot, I mean, talented, and surely destined to return again next year to dance with another lithe young thing (sure it's Robin's turn, but he's hag til he dies, I'm afraid).  It should have been clear where the female phone votes were going to go the instant Aljaz appeared in the male-pro finalists showcase during the opening Scarlet Frenzy pro number.  He was beaming and latin-ing, the first to show off his wafty arms and jelly legs, before Brooding Artem, If-we-must Brendan and Energetic Kev.  That first pro dance was a total corker - especially after a season of less-than-memorable perfs.  And wardrobe outdid themselves with the four finalists' red dresses.  Christmas was RUINED when none of them appeared in my stocking.

Let's crack on, shall we? Ding ding ding, round one!

Judges' choice: Some good choices, actually - either very early dances late joiners were unlikely to have seen or a dance they royally messed up first time (SUSANNA).  Also, inexplicably, Sophie's Sound of Music Viennese Waltz, which was total meh, as far as I was concerned.  Perhaps, like me, the judges were hoping for ACTUAL KITTENS this time, in which case: thwarted. 

Natalie's Cha-cha-chasputin was a more welcome return - cue Artem's bootaloons and Colgate smile.  It was still a little too controlled and the choreography felt very Week 1 (maybe they weren't allowed to pimp it up for the final), but the song remained an earwormtastic delight.

On the subject of super-cheese, it was good to see Susanna nail her Quickstep Take Two - I was shouting her on from my living room, as she edited out last time's mistakes, didn't kick Kevin in the shins, and tumbled over the sofa successfully.

But Abbey's waltz was probably the most accomplished of the four repeat dances (helped by being in hold).  It was a vision in white; lovely and dreamy (in all senses, including a slight snoozeiness).  Possibly, this was wot won it for her.  That and Aljaz in those white trousers.

Anyway, those were ones they'd done earlier…  There's only one way to separate the Colin Jacksons from the Tom Chamberses (GRRRRR).  It's show(dance)time!

Showdances: Four dances, three disappointments, so not the worst ratio, given the historical stats.

It was Natalie who pulled it out the bag, with a BRILLIANT best of.  I was extremely worried when it looked like there was a pole-dancing session planned (yay! feminism!), but even that was fine in the end - as Darcey put it, she enjoyed them "using a structure to enhance the dance effect".  (So that's what ballerinas call previous work experience at Stringfellows, said Mr Cad.)  At first I wondered if Natalie had overly slippy shoes, as she looked a bit tentative, but fairly quickly she remembered this was probably her last dance and the UTTER INJUSTICE drove her on to, well, the best showdance I can remember - and certainly the best one which includes tap-dancing (in your FACE Chambers).  My one criticism is her gold washing up gloves and (oh, apparently I have two criticisms) having Artem unnecessarily dressed.  I mean, having Artem unnecessarily dressed as The Mask.  Not sure why I trailed off there...

Susanna and Kevin's showdance was basically 60% neck spin, 30% smoke machine and 10% faux-verblown intensity.  But it was 100% worth it to hear Darcey throw in a total clanger of a slate: "no wow-factor".  My GOD, Susanna's face!  Fuming beneath the ever professional daytime smile.  La Bussell can kiss goodbye to any Daybreak-based promotion (once ITV win the inevitable bidding war).

There was even more smoke machine use in Abbey's tango doble - but not quite enough bite (though it was hard to judge, given that it was mostly obscured by the dry ice action). I'm impressed that Aljaz didn't come out with massive weld marks on his face from where Abbey repeatedly smacked him with her paso plait.  The Arse Appreciation thread might have moved on to his stomach by now - for the record, yes it was taut, but it takes A LOT to overlook the vulgarity of a criss-cross tummy girdle and Eurotrash leather waistcoat with sequin stud detail.  I'm not sure even Aljaz…  Then again… Tough call.

Speaking of eighties throwbacks, oh Brenda(n) - was a latin-inspired dance *really* the best call?  At least Sophie looked like she has having a blast.  Frankly, she should have just done another charleston - no-one would have had a problem with double Gatsby.  I mean, apart from anything else, it's the one acceptable context in which a woman can wear a gold playsuit. 

Indeed, speaking of…  It was time to hunt around on the iPlayer to see what we could watch instead of Atlantis.  And then...

DRAMATIC ANNOUNCEMENT TIME.

I'll be honest, I was fully expecting Natalie to go and was primed to to scream HUMBUG TRAVESTY all over the internet.  But no!  For Sophie and Brendan's names were called.  In the end, although Sophie probably was the weakest dancer of the four on the night, I just felt a bit deflated that she'd donned her bob wig and spangle pants for nuttin'.  I think it's only fair for me to direct you here.  There'll be very few dances from this series I'll rewatch, but that charleston will be one of them.  (The others will mainly be Dave in satin.)

Couple's favourite: I thoroughly enjoyed the campfest that was Kevin and Susanna's Blackpool paso, but it lost some attack in the studio, I think (also, Kev should have totes got his nips out for the final).  Abbey and Aljaz's quickstep was as messy as the first time, with enough gapping to warrant a tube warning.  It was a bizarre choice, but, given the end result, whaddaIknow?

I know nothing, really, as I actually thought Natalie and Artem's decision to do their Dreamgirls American Smooth was a bit of a dud one - well, how wrong was I?  (Very.)  My excuse is that I'd been gunning for their long lost Tina Turner jive, but no regrets, other than Natalie cranking up the proper realz emotion about twelve dances too late. I could gush on a whole lot, but let's just leave it at this: it was such a good dance it made Artem cry.  CRY.  Amazeballs.

Tessdressmess: Also amazeballs: double TessTess DressDress YesYes!  From Aztec snowflake bodice to black cocktail origami - rather fetching and BOOBS IN PLACE.  A Christmas miracle.  It's been a rocky road, but we ended in a good place.  Well done TessTess - I'm looking forward to a range of mess and success next year.  It wouldn't be the same if I couldn't get angry about your wardrobe and mammary placement.

Celeb Final Group Dance: Another tradition which tends to me a hot mess - so imagine my surprise when we got one which was actually really good.  The key was mainly not making the ones-that-couldn't-dance dance.  Tony had to putt; Vanessa had to stand on a desk (particular bravos for a knicks-free camera angle); Julien had to strut (reigning it in, very very well, especially with all the shiny lights which could have, um, distracted him); Deborah (who could dance) got wheeled in on her dragon chair; Rachel expertly manipulated her Countdown board (disappointingly only spelling 'STRICTLY' rather than, say, 'CRAIG IS A BELLEND') and Dave got to bounce on a motor bike (disappointing too - why not wheel him in on a fruit trolley, EH?).  

Then the ok dancers got a look in - Fiona, who, for me, hilariously stole the show by looking tipsy and waving a plastic Sainsbury's Basic empty cocktail glass; Ben chucking around Kristina and a rugby ball; Mark hip-hopping with MC Ivetamazing before doing the dinosaur (not many Strictly exes get to found a signature move).

Then ATD did a bit of piss-ripping and leg flailing on a flying carpet and finally Patrick honked Chitty Chitty Bang Bang and got to front the VERY LIMITED mass dance, which even Rachel could just about manage.  Good times!  And a good cast, all told.  Just a shame they dressed the lady-pros in flammable ruffled toilet roll covers - Anya in peach drew the particularly short straw.

I quite enjoyed Putting on the Ritz too, in spite of Robbie 'Robin' Williams (thanks Bruce) and his attempt to go Clooney (sorry RW, some way to go yet).  I think the newbie dancers have earned their place for next year, so I suspect the pro-dancer bidding is going to be cutthroat in 2014.  I'm not going to be betting on the Jordans I don't think - regardless of their (Ola's) popularity, I have a feeling they've pissed off a few too many powers that be.  (Oh and James can come across like an absolute tool jockey.)  Teflon Aliona will be there though - somehow, anyhow, probably training in Barbados.

So there we have it, though not before they wheeled out all the previous winners (EVEN ALESHA!) for some talking head stuff and old dance clips, reminding us (a) of all the pros they'd fired and (b) that once Abbey was announced, 2013 wasn't quite the vintage crown year - a good ride through the weeks, yes, but probably the wrong result.  

But I don't want to leave things on a downer.  Abbey did some wonderful dances and didn't come across (to me anyway) as the vacuum-headed materialistic show pony we might have assumed she was.  Sure, she wasn't ever happy with her hair and sometimes had trouble focusing on whoever was talking to her, but she seemed comparatively down-to-earth, you know, for a WAG (I mean 'model and presenter').  Besides, I'm not sure Strictly is always about the winner - often it's about the JOURNEY (*and the crowd spews*) and the whole billion week shebang.  On that note, I'm off to watch the Myers Trilogy: Dave Like Jagger, DaveLoaf, Dave Fruit Trolley, via Mark C Hammer and Natalie TOUCHING THE DIVINE.  Those are my moments of the series - alongside Bruno falling off his chair.  Thanks for skimming my nonsense each week folks!  See you for Apprentice / Eurovision / Bake Off season.  Till then, keeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep dancin'!

Series 11 – Semi-final

Well, what a rollercoaster year for my £1 – initially dismissed then a brief glimpse of promise followed by a mediocre plateau before an ever increasing hope that, hang on, actually, maybe... maybe...  ahhhh, nope: stark rejection at the final hurdle.  Also, Patrick left the competition.

You may (or probably not) have noticed slight blog delay this week – no it wasn’t grief at losing my £1, but more like, you know, LIFE.  Christmas is a time of … well just having shitloads of stuff to do* at the same time that everyone else has shitloads of stuff to do* and we all get in the way of each other's shitloads whilst eating our bodyweight in chocolate coins and mincepies, even though you'd think the sugar high would power us on.

(*For example, Mr Cad has been threatening that he's going to “WIN CHRISTMAS” such is the high quality of his gift offerings.  Like I'm not going to rise to THAT challenge.  Anyway, I'll be the last one laughing - I have a LOT of Boots Advantage points to use up, oh yes...)

ANYWAY, all that time-wasting to say, I'm sort of speed blogging this week.  Handy headings, all content, no style.  (“What's changed, etc etc, boom boom...”)  Here we go!

Bye bye: Patrick and Anya.  Anya can stay for 2014, please.  She seems adorable and she has her partner's back - literally, in fact, by giving Patrick tails, to conceal his booty in the waltz.  Arguably that successful look was subsequently offset by the not-entirely-authentic purple décor of his paso jacket (still I suppose there will be some fans), but Patrick still managed to bring the macho, sort of.  Also, whoever was responsible for setting a paso to Because The Night: PAY RISE.

So, fare thee well, Patrick. I’m not sure how much I’d have paid attention if there hadn’t been gambling involved, but he was a fine dancer and seemed a nice, if serious, man.  In the end though, he was a mite too boring for a prime time popularity contest - Strictly loves a panto luvvie, but a luvvie luvvie... Well that's just a bit too intense.

Dance-off: Natalie and Artem in shocker-that-wasn’t-really-a-shocker shock!  Mainly I can’t believe that Artem donning Ian's Legendary Red Trousers wasn't enough to keep them safe - mind you, nor was BEING AMAZING.   My only gripe - it was just a little too controlled and I'm not quite convinced of the chemistry.   The salsa too was a little bit clinical, but I live for fringing - beautifully matched with the Gumede hair. And my, what spinning action!  Artem's Sexy Chef look, though? Not so much.

Bruno’s on the turn: Here’s how attractive Abbey and Aljaz are - she samba-ed in a giant turquoise Fraggle Rock hem, he American Smoothed in a frilly blouse and tie, and yet they still managed to look divine.  It’s inhuman.  Weren't they good?  Yes, they were.  Guess we can move on then!

More oomph please vicar: Sophie and Brendan.  So now I’m dreaming of an episode on next year's The Apprentice where they have to market a ballroom dancing competition.  Imagine the board room!   IMAGINE THE ADVERT!  Sophie’s paso started off strong, but then it sort of dipped for me. And I'm honest, I think it's the dress that really inspired the standing ovation - sweet mother of sewing, that was a triumph in backless blue.   In fact, the American Smooth was all about the dress too - and that lift where Brendan swung her by her armpits and she smiled sweetly through the obvious pain.  I love Sophie as a person (well, as the media projection of a person that we see through the safety of an edit), but I'm not 100% sold on her dancing.  If she’s still here, it’s down to her Week 2 charleston - but for a dance to have that kind of power, even ten weeks later, is preeeeety impressive, so I’m ok with it really – and looking forward to seeing it again.  Bring on the glitter champagne!

Lucky escape (again again again): Kevin: “Here's our plan of action, Susanna.  The foxtrot is looking quite good but, just to be on the safe side, I'll get the Kev from Grimsby spexy specs out.  Twitter LOVES them, so it will totally lull everyone into a false sense of lust and security.  THEN when we get to the hot mess that is our salsa, we’ll bedazzle the audience outfits of shiny peach neon - they'll be too blinded to see too well and will assume that that dance was as good as the first one. BOOM! FINAL!”  Well... it worked. The weakest couple of the night, but infectious energy, so I can understand their popularity. 

Pro-dances: #1. Jaunty Kill Bill meets Young Paul Daniels (Anton in canary yellow satin and pork pie hat - MY EYES!!!). 

#2. Artem once again tries to break Aliona’s neck to music – this time in front of Celine Dion (Now imagine the all-mighty pro-cat fight there would have been to front a Dion number.  I KNOW!  Swingathon violence, I'm reckoning.  No wonder Kristina was looking pouty.)

#3. A terrifyingly bendy exhibition show dance.  That was one brave lady-dancer - not only was she basically supporting a bulk of neck-less man muscle by her teeny neck, but her lacey leggings were unquestionably the tackiest the BBC has ever seen.  Not even Ola Jordan would dare go there.  Nor would Primark.  Maybe.

Tessdressmess: Saturday: acceptable black with prison bar neckline.  Sunday: horrific white belted satin sheets over candy crush saga sleeves.  One again, the rise and the fall, all in the space of a weekend.  At least the boob hoik is still working.  Come on TessTess - you've got this.

Bruce: WHY? WWWWWWHHHHHHHHHHHHHYYYYYYY???

Also of note: Shout out to the audience member who made her own fuchsia sequinned cape for the show.  Horrible.  BUT RESPECT.

Next time: THE FINAL. When all is said and done.... Team Natalie.  But I’d be happy with an Abbey win.  In the meantime, brace yourselves for the showdances.  You know the drill by now – nothing ever lives up to that much hype.  I mean, I didn’t even like Tom Chambers’ gurn and tapdance, and that’s supposed to be the ultimate!  And at the other end of the scale, there’s an Erin puppet show (too sad to link to) and Lisa Snowden being bundled around in a leotard, so you can see why my expectations are LOW.  Then again, why not keeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep hoping.

Series 11 – Week 11

Bye bye Ashley and Ola - FOREVER, if the tabloids are to be believed. (They're not.  It's just a brief return to strop-gate and stirring, based on Ola's recent bust-up with "Katherine Hauer" as the article calls her - mwahaha!  Way to go, Metro, such excellent fact-checking really helps the validity of a story, I find.)  ATD and OCJ (Ola "chops" Jordan) weren't the worst, but they weren't the best and so probably should have stayed, but I can't say I'm sad, as I never really warmed to ATD.   Sure, it might be annoying to get the same score for five weeks (for quickstep, paso, waltz, rumba *and* salsa), but the Great British Public never reward petty ungraciousness or furious ambition, even if you do employ some actual bongos and a jump/lift which is a swift pelvic to the ladyface.  Also, and this is key: you can't dance to Conga and NOT DO A CONGA.

Strictlycad's Conga Tangent

This year I have successfully ordered two congas (Conga #1: birthday. Conga #2: office Christmas party.)  I've learned the key is to wait until a dance circle is fairly well established, then point at the nearest merry (ideally male) dancing friend and simply shout “CONGA!”.  The effect is instantaneous and infectious.  Props, especially, to Steve who headed my birthday conga, which was EPIC.  Not only did we conga through the bar, but he led us out into the beer garden, before arriving at some steps to well, at this point, it’s hazy.  My sober friend Rob reported the following: “As we arrived on the upper level we upset a group of hipsters who thought they’d secured that area for themselves. One particularly obnoxious head-girl type was heard to say “Oh my god! Other people have found this place!” in a voice that indicated that she wasn’t used to sharing. This pleased me greatly.  We conga-d on in the belief that the stairs on the opposite side would take us back down but they actually led to a fire pit populated by other hipsters at which point the conga halted. Someone at the front broke loose and tried to push open a door that was clearly a fire exit from a different building. They were unsuccessful and the u-turn was called which put me second from the front.”  Apparently there was then a brief attempt at a reverse conga.  All in all: incredible. [Here endeth the tangent.]

Anyway, sorry to Beth, but she won the sweepstake last year, so we can't be too sad on her behalf, right?  

Also incredible – someone throwing out a ten for a male rumba.  Was Darcey insane?  Well, OBVIOUSLY.  But you have to respect a prima ballerina that doesn't give a shit about the conventions of scoring and just waves whichever paddle she fancies.  (This was her happiest time of the night, I think - she was RAGING during the swingathon.  I'm fairly sure she punched Len at the end of it.)  As for Patrick and Anya, well, in spite of Len's attack of the grumps ("STEPPING FORWARD = CARDINAL SIN") they made it through a he-rumba.  Yes, it was a typical awk-fest of hideous chiffon-based sequin detail and weirdly placed man hands on hip-bones whilst slow-thrusting, but we just have to accept  it – that's the dance.

Shall I tell you what’s NOT the dance?  A Michael Jackson impression in Argentine Tango form.  UNACCEPTABLE.  I can’t believe we lost Vinthent to the jungle for this.  This was a serious lucky escape for Susanna and Kevin – I’ve yet to find anyone who rated it, so their vote must be 100% goodwill, based on their loveliness.   I have no idea who foisted that bullshit on to us, but I hope they dwell long and hard on what they did and find a sword to fall on.  (Or at least decide to NEVER DO IT AGAIN.)  As for Kev’n’Sus, the only way is up.  Which is a track I would like to see Susanna dance to – BUT NOT AN ARGENTINE TANGO.

I thought Delilah would be as equally terrible for a Viennese Waltz, but, in fact, it totally worked, not least as Abbey and Aljaz danced it beautifully.  Strictement Maman loves this song – she emailed me immediately after with the following message: 

“Deliliah!...............I.....I Xx 

Sent from my iPad”

This says it all I think.  Not that I’m bitter about baby boomers and their FLIPPING IPADS.  I’m typing this on a TOSHIBA, people.  Hurrrumph.

Strictement Maman will also have appreciated Natalie and Artem’s trad paso music.  The rest of us appreciated Artem’s inflatable upside-down man cleavage, but.... well, I do feel a little sorry for Natalie sometimes.  I mean there’s hard task master and then there’s Chigvintsev.  (BTW, I always want to type Chigwell-vintsev, which then makes me briefly wonder how he’d cope in Birds of A Feather...  Artem could be Sharon's dance teacher, perhaps?  You're all thinking about that now, aren't you?  Either way, Dorien would devour him and it would be TERRIFYING.  Fingers crossed for the ITV reboot!)  Anyway, this week, Artem took Natalie out for a lovely flamenco night, but *ENEMY OF FUN ALERT* treated it as nothing but homework, grilling her with notes and forcing her to dance flamenco in public, next to a trained professional, before kindly pissing himself at her not-at-all-terrible attempt.  Give the girl a break, Artie – GB already hates her for being fantastic!  Moreover, I don't think that pressure is helping, as I tend to agree with Craig - it’s Natalie’s polish that’s the problem; she hasn't ever just let go and risked imperfection in the name of passion or laffs.  If Natalie Lowe managed it, dancing like a dream OBVZ, but dropping the focus to giggle at Michael V's wonderfully woeful jive, then Natalie Gumede can have a moment too.

Perhaps she's just too nervous of Artem's terminator stare.  For my part, I was terrified of Artem's criss cross corset trousers.  Even Simon Cowell has never pulled his waistband so high, let alone garnished his flares with a gold leaf wallpaper frieze and the tinsel aisle in the local pound shop. 

Next to the pound shop trews, a tango from Sophie and Brendan set “in one of those mobile phone kiosks on Rye Lane”, well, so quoth Mr Cad.  It wasn't to my taste, because I like a fiery macho tango of pretentious pompous proportions (oooh, bar that Priscilla one Doner Van did with Kristina).  I do think Sophie is LOVELY, but I'm still not sold on her dancing.  But her Something About Mary hair was excellent – as was her acting, though it's hard to tell if someone pulling off 'mannequin' effectively is actually highly talented or just... well, wooden.

As for the Swingathon – that was the usual disappointment.  No teeth knocked out, no hair extensions flying, no broken bones – what’s the point?  There was one moment of hilarious high drama, when Mr Cad and I were convinced that Susanna shouted “OHHHH FUCK!” when she was kicked off, but it was probably the far more boring and broadcastable: “ohhhh not us” or “ohhhhh come on”.  (Still, I urge you to go back and check – see what you think...)  The trouble with the swingathon is that you can't see anything really – just as you focus on one couple, the camera pans away to another hot mess of lacey underskirt and limbs in pumps.  Was the swingathon a total fix designed to bolster Patrick and Natalie, who – so the rumour goes – are not beloved of the public?  Probably.  Certainly the Digital Spy Forum is about to explode with conspiracy-based rage.  Do I care?  No, not really.  The judges' scoring is always based on infuriating utter randomness and bizarre lunacy, so why is this any different?

Speaking of bizarre lunacy, let's check in with Tessdressmess.  And good news, people!  OK, Saturday’s mullet prom dress wasn’t my favourite, but let's chalk it down as a relative Tesstessdresssuccess, for the Daly boobs were happily supported.  And Sunday made two from two – I liked the red office dress come sexy scarlet evening gown very much, *and* the well-hoiked bra was still in place.  As for Claude.... oh well.  She's still awesome.  I particularly enjoyed her revelation about her affair in Rome with Terms and Conditions.  Amazing surreal work.  Bruce who?  No seriously, I totally forgot he even existed.

And I think that’s it, really, bar a quick trip through the Sunday extras – we’ll gloss over the Saturdays' 'singing', as they opted to go pro-less and bring their own dance staff (BOOOO!).  Though at least Darcey was having a boogie at her desk - clearly her mood had improved.  (Maybe a half time tipple was involved?)  The pro dance we did get was The Aliona Show, but – you know what – it was fair enough.  Everyone else is getting a show-off turn at the front, so why shouldn’t Aliona?  The real surprise wasn’t that I coped with an Aliona dance, but that Anton did!  He really didn't look too awful on stage this time, even during the ‘contemporary’ stuff.  Perhaps I was distracted by the two supply man-cers.  Who were they?!  I demand a special feature from It Takes Two, explaining their identity and their particularly sheeny faces.

And that’s it I think – semi final ahoy.  The end is very nearly in sight and, what with Borgen leaving our screens too, I’m starting to panic about what my Saturday nights are going to look like. I suppose I might have to see friends or talk to Mr Cad.  (Imagine!?)  Next week is two dance time, which is always ‘interesting’.  Though at least there hasn’t been any talk of dance fusion, has there?  I’m not sure I could cope with another samba-rumba, or whatever bizarre concoction we saw last time.  I’m hoping for one ballroom and one latin, but I’ll be mourning the fact that the Argentine Tango has been pre-ejaculated all over our screens in some cases.  Right then, on that unseemly note, it’s time to stop.  Keeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep it clean, eh?