Casualty: Being Nick Jordan

Since his brain operation, Nick Jordan has been on desk duties, but he’s been seizing every opportunity to hang around resus and pop in to do a quick life-saving procedure when he thinks no-one is looking. You can’t expect a maverick genius like Nick to be happy arranging his pens into colour order for very long.

So when Adam Trueman left his pager behind when he popped out to see Jessica’s  son’s hip-hop nativity play (so modern), Nick seized his chance to take control of the ED. Just as well, considering there was literally a coach-load of smashed-up people to piece together, as well as an amnesiac who’d walked all the way from Plymouth just to see Jordan in action.

Adam and Sean were still locking horns over Jessica – in fact, when Sean’s pager went off to summon him back to the ED to cope with the coach crash victims, he deliberately didn’t mention to Adam that he might be needed too. On arriving at the nativity play, Sean gestured towards Adam and said to an acquaintance: “The affair.” As Adam took his seat, he added to the same man, “More of an upgrade.” And he is, too.

Talking of grades, which of the F2′s is going to win the fellowship? The other staff are talking bets, and favourite so far is Yuki. He has an encyclopaedia of a brain, but his people skills are a tad lacking. Luckily he is being mentored by Dr Zoe Hanna, who is extremely good at being warm and approachable, particularly after a couple of Bacardi Breezers. She set young Yuki the challenge of asking May (for whom he hankers) out on a proper date. Before he had the chance to do this, he had to go and help out at the scene of the coach crash, and later on found himself facing the pointy end of a knife when he discovered that the crash had been caused by sabotage. The mild-mannered semi-Japanese F2 held his nerve remarkably well, and came out of it a bit of a hero. So high was he on all the adrenalin and success that he did manage to ask May out, and made it clear it wasn’t to do revision with him, it was for a proper drink. Progress indeed, as Dr Zoe Hanna looked on approvingly. Then Lenny invited himself along too. Oh well. Two steps forward and one step back is still one step forward, if you see what I mean.

Strictly: everyone loves a tryer

So the last woman celebrity, Ali Bastian, is out of Strictly, despite she and Brian scoring full marks on their American Smooth. They are a couple both on and off the dance floor, and I’ve been obsessing all series about what would happen if they split up in real life but had to keep on wrapping their arms around each other in the dance studio for ten hours a day. It could have been murder on the dancefloor had Ali not seemed an entirely calm sort.

Nothing was going to knock the phenomenally popular duo of Chris Hollins and Ola Jordan out of the final, even dancing better. I had wondered if Ricky Whittle would go, because although patently the best dancer since the beginning, he seems to have become less popular with the public since the running-over-the photographer (allegedly) incident. I think there is something behind the eyes that comes across as rather too smooth. Mind you, I’m always suspicious of people who seem just a little too good looking, and I suppose that’s not his fault.

Despite inelegant hands and not being as good a dancer as Ali (or Zoe Lucker, or Jade Johnson), Chris has had more of a ‘journey’ (I had to clench my teeth to write that). All it means is he’s improved more over time. And ‘Strictly’ is an apt term for this ‘journey’ since Ola has taught him by means of vicious nipple twisting. Anyway, he has the Jack Russell look of a plucky little tryer about him and the voting members of the nation have very much taken him to their hearts, so it was no surprise that he found himself in the final.  

But my favourite dance of the evening was when the lovely Darcey Bussell took to the floor with the adorable Ian Waite. That woman bends in ways that frankly make my eyes water.

Posted by Inkface

X Factor: Joe McElderry, your life changes today

As confidently predicted on this very blog (once Jamie Archer had been eliminated), Joe McElderry has won The X Factor. The little Geordie with the choirboy face and the note-perfect singing voice has beaten the wide-faced, big-handed Essex boy and irritating dad-dancer, Olly Murs.

This year has widely been held to be a Leon year rather than a Leona one – i.e. the standard hasn’t been high and the winner is expected to quickly fade back into the obscurity from whence he came (or, at best, get himself a part in Grease eventually). There was a moment on Saturday’s show, though, when I wondered whether Joe might actually end up being more successful than predicted. He was duetting with the legend that is George Michael, and Joe was giving it everything – his voice was at least as strong and soulful as George’s, and I thought just maybe (particularly if he can write songs as well as sing) Joe could end up establishing a long career for himself.

First, however, he’s got the Christmas number one single coming up (how depressing is it to know the Christmas number one single only half way through December?). Joe said the lyrics of the song were very meaningful to him because they described his X Factor journey (to his credit he didn’t use that actual phrase but we know what he meant), but the winners song (‘Hallelujah’ excepted) generally does. ‘The Climb’ is a song so bland and unmemorable that it makes the American Idol winner’s song ‘No Boundaries’ sound like something by Lennon & McCartney.

Speaking of McCartney, he turned up as a guest on the results show last night, and he was fab. He might be ancient, but he can still rock. Meet me here again in 50 years time (I might be in hologram format, or you may need a ouija board to communicate with me by then) and we’ll find out whether Joe went on to become a household name. Or not.