Tag Archives: Jason Donovan

Strictly Come Dancing: Comfort And Joy

Well, hullo. I really didn’t expect to be back here after last time. Me and Strictly were finished. The love had died, it was trying too hard and I discovered a new Saturday Night Chippy (The Blue Dolphin in Hastings, in case you’re interested – half-price gherkins if you mention PLA. Probably)

Anyway, thanks to The Quirks of Fate*(*The Blogging Rota) here I am for The Final! So, Strictly, can you win my love back? You feelin’ lucky?

Following the handy rundown of previous weeks and their themes – Broadway = Good, Halloween = Bad, Wembley = Ugly and Movies = Yawn – we now find ourselves at The Final in BLACKPOOL! It’s just like Old BLACKPOOL Times! After the Wembley Dancing Disaster 2011 (for all you Bee Gees fans out there),Blackpool actually works brilliantly for the final. It’s exciting, atmospheric, spacious yet doesn’t have that Bloody Awful Echo (…Bloody Awful Echo) (Sorry).

I Saw Three Chariots Come Strutting By

And the Opening Number. Oh My God. The dancers come out dressed as Gladiators to LIVING ON A PRAYER. Despite the fact that Artem really does still look far too nice to leave anybody off his Christmas Card list never mind kill them, they do damn well. And just when you think it can’t get any better: a) there is That Key Change (still The Greatest Moment In Rock in my opinion) and b) At the key change the finalists come in on giant foam Chariots! Bonus points to Chelsee Healey for belting the song out like she’s on a Hen Night. It’s camp, hysterical, entirely unnecessary and possibly the best thing I’ve seen on telly all year (take that, jumper-toting Swedish lady!).  Continue reading

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Strictly Come Dancing: Look at ‘em, they’re standing up

It’s the semi-finals and to mark the occasion Bruno is particularly  deliciously and delightfully bonkers, while tonight’s audience have decided to spend most of the hour and a half on their feet apparently… call me a curmudgeon but not every single one of those dances deserved a standing ovation.

So who will be going to BLACKPOOL next week? Well, if Harry and Aliona, and Chelsee and Pasha aren’t in the final there’s no justice in the spray-tanned, sequinned world of Strictly.

There were some great music choices this week (I can never hear too much Gloria Estefan and the Miami Sound Machine I’m afraid), but setting the Charleston to I’m Just Wild About Harry was a neat move on Aliona’s part. She also seems to have listened to all Len’s grumbles about her choreography in the past two series and Harry’s reaping the benefits. It helps that he is a great dancer. Artem’s choreography for the Charleston was bolder and more interesting, but Harry and Aliona looked well-matched in their dance, while Holly was shown up by her partner’s superior skills.

Harry and Aliona also turned in a beautiful and romantic Viennese waltz. It was, as Craig noted, rather more melancholy than most and all the better for it.

By comparison I found Alex’s waltz boring. Yes, it was graceful and well-executed, but if you find yourself pondering the professional dancer’s dodgy hair cut instead of the dancing something is wrong I’m afraid.

And not even Gloria Estefan could save Alex’s salsa. She has improved remarkably, but she’s just not in the same league as Harry or Chelsee. And that rather ugly starfish lift thing didn’t do her any favours either.

Chelsee outshone Alex in her American Smooth, which was graceful, brilliant and exquisite, and was mesmerising in the paso doble. It’s going to be a close run thing between her and Harry next week.

Whether it will be Alex, Holly or Jason who joins them on the coach up north is anybody’s guess.

Holly and Artem’s Argentine tango was a pleasure to watch, but the confidence she showed there was sadly lacking from the Charleston (which could have been a real showstopper).

Jason seems to annoy people, so despite a samba that, for once, I didn’t have to watch through my fingers and an amazing Argentine Tango, there’s no guarantee he’s getting within a mile of a VT heavy on Kiss Me Quick hats and rollercoasters next week.

The results show is actually going to be interesting this week – I’ll see you there!

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Strictly: Time to talk about the norks

It’s time for this blog to readdress the balance of discussion. No socio-political analysis this week. Time to talk about the norks. And the outfits.

This week is Movie Night! We can tell this because the dancers come out dressed up in immediately obvious outfits. Harry is Clint Eastwood. Robbie and Ola are The Blues Brothers. Jason and Kristina are Bonnie and Clyde; James and Alex are doing James Bond. First we get a bit of jiving to Saturday Night at the Movies by the professionals, which is the only time we get to see Flavia and her beautiful cheekbones. We need more of Flavia and less of Vincent’s eyebrows. In fact, none at all of Vincent’s eyebrows.

Bruce’s intros are particularly dreadful and he fluffs his first lines. When will the BBC learn that the novelty value of having an old duffer in his eighties shuffling around on stage and mumbling utter rubbish has gone? They’ve got Tess right this week though – lovely culotte jumpsuit (MaxMara), red lips, Rita Hayworth waterfall hair. It’s always such a relief when they’ve remembered to give her a supportive undergarment and I don’t have to spend the Tess’s Nest bits averting my eyes as her boobs slowly descend waistwards.

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Strictly: Back where it belongs.

Russell Grant fired from Wembley

I’m going to sound a bit of a grump, I know, and I hate to spoil the atmosphere and all that, but last week’s Strictly was, I thought, the worst I’d ever seen. Wembley Arena was a rubbish venue for the average TV viewer. It might have been enjoyable for those actually there, which is why the dancers and Brucie seemed genuinely so excited about it all, but sitting at home, it just looked and sounded completely wrong. I haven’t spoken to anyone this week who thought it worked well at Wembley. Anyway, the long and short of it is I was glad to see things back in the studio this week.

They seemed to give the show an X-Factor style intro, with Tess giving the stats from last week’s show, and recounting the celebs meeting the Doochess of Cornwall. This week was a two-dance week, with the couples performing a ‘swingathon’ as well as the usual ballroom or latin effort. I always find the thought of a swingathon mildly disturbing, with images of a 70s style keys-on–the-table party flitting through my mind, but then we do live in Crowborough where that sort of thing happened all the time, so I’m told. (Note to self – remove the Pampas grass from the front garden).  Continue reading

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Strictly Come Dancing: “Live from a municipal swimming pool”

My father, a secondary school teacher, was a marvellous man in many ways, but he had some mysterious prejudices. Back in the 1984, when Frankie Go To Hollywood released ‘Relax’ and, thanks to DJ Mike  Read, it was banned from Radio 1 and Top of the Pops, dad announced how nonsensical a decision it was. “A harmless song,” he said. The song that he thought was filthy, explicit muck that would cause terrible damage to innocent young minds was ‘Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go’ by WHAM.No, I have no idea what he was on about either. But both songs were featured in this week’s Strictly, live from Wembley Arena, and I don’t think any youthful minds were irredeemably corrupted by Dave Arch and his orchestra.

The best way to watch Strictly, other than knocking back a shot every time Brucie makes a crap pun or Tess gives a rictus grin, is to follow the witty comments on Twitter. Despite all the build-up, Wembley is a ghastly place for this week’s show. It all came across as very Saturday Night Special to me, especially the opening group dance number to a Queen medley. I thought the dance floor far too big, and the sound quality dreadful. Sue Perkins tweeted: “Judging by the sound, this week’s Strictly is coming live from a municipal swimming pool”.

But leaving that aside, what of our dancers? Robbie and Ola kicked off quite literally on rather odd podiums that looked like giant drums. Ola sported a big curly hair ‘do and a skintight, blue and silver catsuit which showed off her pierced bellybutton. In fact, other than whiskers and a tail, she looked like a character from Cats. It was certainly an outfit that drew the attention of all heterosexual males (“one for the dads” as a friend put it), although when Robbie ripped his shirt open, it was a pleasant distraction for some of the rest of us. Their routine included a scary leapfrog and some lifts that looked, from my perspective, like his face was buried in her crotch. But then again, I know nothing about dancing. I’ve come to quite like Robbie, but I expect him to be in the bottom two this week, and he might go (either him or Anita is my guess).

Alex and James performed an excellent tango to ‘Relax’ (and I’m sorry, but it’s a belter of a song, and needs a more throbbing bass than Dave Arch and his lovely orchestra can produce. It also needs the fine and filthy voice of Holly Johnson). But Alex and James’ tango was superb, and her confidence in their dance relationship has vastly improved. I liked the use of vast, white floor-to-ceiling ribbons in the routine, it broke up the vast echoey ‘sports hall’ feeling of the place. In terms of their dance, Craig said, it was “sharp, staccato, theatrical and intense” and it was. I like Alex and I want her to do well. Many are suggesting Jason and Harry as potential overall winners, but I’m hoping to see Alex or Chelsee up there myself. Continue reading

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Strictly Come Dancing: *Everything* needs to be leaner

I must confess to experiencing Strictly ennui this week. How much of this is the result of watching Singin’ in the Rain on BBC2 this afternoon I can not say. Though as I sat transfixed by the glorious Gene Kelly (not to mention the brilliant Donald O’Connor and Debbie Reynolds) I knew I would be turning a more critical eye than ever on SCD.

But it’s not all Gene Kelly’s fault. I have to confess that I can no longer bear to watch the dull VTs of training and other loosely-related shenanigans or Bruce’s terrible and/or homophobic jokes. I am prepared to risk missing a nugget of TV gold if it means saving my brain from these horrors.

I am also beyond tired of the pantomime reaction from the audience to the judges’ (usually) constructive criticism. I’m surprised Len hasn’t snapped back at them before now to be honest.

And don’t get me started on Bruce perpetuating the myth that a straight man needs protecting from a gay man who finds him attractive. That’s a whole other blog post on its own.

These, then, are the things that I did enjoy this week:

  • Alex’s energy, though even I could see her kicks and flicks were not crisp enough *learned from the master face*
  • Twitterer @fionalaird’s comment on the lovely Audley, that he “basically stands around in time to the music”. I fear this will be his last week.
  • I’d pay to watch Harry make a microwave meal for two, so very happy with his Argentinian tango. I’m with Velocity Girl on predicting a place in the final for Harry.
  • Jason showing the audience why Craig’s on the panel – so that the celebrities can listen to constructive criticism and improve their performances.
  • Chelsee was lovely to watch, I’m hoping she makes it to the final as well.
  • Robin doing the Argentinian tango. What do you mean I’m supposed to be watching Anita Dobson? Robin’s mesmerising, and Anita’s not. No matter how good her legs look ‘for her age’.
  • The threesome in Holly’s training room. Brendan becomes infinitely less annoying when he’s dancing with Artem. (And yes, poor, brave Artem – the hottest man on the show, stuck on the sofa. Let us cross everything and hope he’s back on the dancefloor soon.)
  • Russell Grant looking like something out of Doctor Who this week in that sparkly yellow eyeshadow AND incorporating a costume change. Even if he did look like a giant Ferrero Rocher as Len phrased it.

I’m sorry to be such a grump, but truly Strictly could do worse than listen to the advice Craig would dish out to it: “Dahling, you went on too long, there’s too much padding. It needs to be crisper. And dump the doddery bigot who can’t read the teleprompter.”

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Strictly Come Dancing: Goodness, gracious, great balls of glitter

My crystal balls are in my pants

It’s bad news when someone mentions something daft and YOU CAN’T GET IT OUT OF YOUR HEAD. I’m looking at you Mrs Our Man In The South. You and your comments about Russell Grant’s highly visible testicles. It was fine before. It had never crossed my mind to look ‘down there’. And bless him, but Russell’s not a man whose physique your eye is normally drawn to. Not like Harry Judd. But once you know, you just can’t look anywhere else. I’m not sure if it’s the clingy fabric of the costume, or if he should be wearing rather more supportive underwear. A ‘cup’ of some sort? I dunno. I’m not an expert. I know a bit about the use of heavily engineered, built-in bras in the women’s costumes to keep their modesty intact (despite Chelsee’s anxieties last week, the engineering held, it all worked fine – nothing was seen). But frankly I’m at sea when it comes to keeping male genitalia in its proper place in dancewear.

Actually, the woman I blame first and foremost for the downhill slide into silliness in the testicular region is Sue Perkins. She was tweeting about the up-coming appearance of a squirrel with monumentally vast bollocks prior to the final show in the Great British Bake-off series. I now can’t even remember who won the bloody thing, nor anything they cooked in the show. All that hard work and you’re upstaged by a well-endowed rodent. Must be sickening.

Nut job

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Strictly Come Dancing: Scary stuff

Ooh, Miss Jones

It was Halloween Special on Strictly. I must confess I’m of an age when I’m not sure Halloween, as an event, merits a special of anything(apart from Psychoville). Far too much fuss made of it these days. When I was a kid, you might have a bit of enforced apple bobbing and a pumpkin in the window, but that was it. Now, we have a whole Saturday night’s light entertainment on both channels devoted to it.

In keeping with the theme, the show starts with a mildly embarrassing Addams family group dance, before a terrifying wizened member of the living dead appears – oh, hang on – it was Brucie, making the traditional weekly grab for Tess’s upper thigh.

Like Velocity Girl, in last week’s review, I must confess to getting a bit fed up with all the padding in Strictly at the moment. The show is plenty long enough without all the quirky videos. It’s fine to see a bit of training, but all this; “Alex was told by the judges last week that she needed to be sexier, so I decided to take her to a live sex show” is wearing a bit thin. We had Chelsee and Pasha visiting a school, Alex and James abseiling (yeah, yeah – it wasn’t really a sex show, but you get my drift), Harry and Aliona poncing about in the London Dungeon, and a horrific dream sequence for Jason featuring Ann Widdecombe of which the least said about, the better. In the words of Len, please stop all this messing about. A bit of training, and just do the bloody dance. For the last couple of weeks, we’ve recorded Strictly, which means you can whizz through all the extraneous nonsense and save a good half hour. I’d recommend it.   Continue reading

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Strictly Come Dancing – It’s time to meet the Muppets…

Look, Strictly started it with Craig and Len doing their Statler and Waldorf impersonations. If they don’t want to draw our attention to the performers who are all startled expressions, fluff and jerky performances they shouldn’t lampshade them.

I’ll admit my heart sank at the concept of Broadway night. For one thing every night is pantomime night on the Strictly dancefloor, especially when it comes to the judges. Unlike the hair-trigger audience who appear to have been stuffed full of ’70s orange squash and pre-health and safety Smarties, my favourite of the judges is resident ‘villain’ Craig. He seems to me to be the only one judging dancing as opposed to national treasure status. And the day he finally loses it and punches Bruce on the nose for one of his homophobic comments will be Fab-u-lous.

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Strictly Come Dancing: Chilly willies & warm lap dances

I confess to getting a bit distracted at the beginning of this because I spotted Paul ‘Silver fox of the Great British Bake Off’ Hollywood in the audience and started thinking about cakes. But that’s no bad thing. It allowed the Brucie drivel to wash over me in a not unpleasant, bun-scented reverie.

Several things struck me this week:

  • Brucie really shouldn’t be allowed to mention Audley’s ‘rhythm’ without a useful aide (and I’d volunteer) quietly wrapping Nancy’s boa around his neck & doing a little bit of constricting to shut him up
  • Audley comes across as a lovely bloke: he won’t win, but I like him a lot
  • With Len Goodman talking about things getting a bit ‘chilly around his willy’ and Bruno’s pantomime letching, it can get too much like a Carry on film at times, and not in a good way
  • The show is currently far too long for someone with my attention span – which actually makes me pleased couples will be voted off from now onwards
  • Others on Twitter may mock (Our Man in the South, I’m looking at you. ‘Bertie Bassett’ indeed) but I thought Anita Dobson looked fantastic in her Carmen Miranda salsa outfit, and she danced beautifully too
  • Less keen on Dan Lobb   Continue reading

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