Week 7, Part 1: In which the Blackpool drums begin and shoulders make me uncomfortable

OK you guys, let’s talk about Not Halloween and Not Blackpool So What The Hell, Man, Do I Even Have an Identity Week. Also known as Week 7. Miss Jones is on the ballroom this week, for reasons of keeping things fresh, but also because the Pixies have ballroom this week, and I need to stop reviewing them because of ALL THE RINGER VITRIOL. 

Some pre-credits humour for us this week – not sure I need a LOL JUDY’S RUBBISH VT, if I’m honest. Other than that, the VT is only there to serve notice that Bruno dropkicked us right into the 10 zone last week, and there’s very little chance that we’ll go another week without one CHEERS BRUNO YOU TRAITOR. 

This week’s credit report brings you Aliona and Gregg. Even then, Aliona looked like she couldn’t give two hoots and Gregg looked utterly resigned to his fate. Now I’m all sad about Gregg again. 

Aljaz and Sensible Brendan escort our two extremely tall, extremely blonde hosts to the stage. I do not like Tess’s dress, but I won’t deny she looks nice in it. I do like Zoe’s, and in my fantasy world in which I am a six foot tall Amazon with awesome legs, I would always wear this dress to a party. I tried on a party dress on Sunday. I liked the look of it in the mirror, but thought I would check how it looked if photographed.  The dress remains in the shop. 

I am amused throughout the evening’s show by Tess ensuring she is standing just slightly in front of Zoe at all times. It’s subtle, but it’s there. KNOW YOUR PLACE, BALL. 

Darcey does a little dance! Thanks, Darcey! And there are some utterly baffled-looking soldiers in the front row. I can only assume they drew the short straw.

Two things to note about the remainder of the intro: 1) Sunetra is wearing some gigantic arm scarves, so I worry about entanglements, and I worry about Miss Jones’s sanity as this can only mean further commentary on Sunetra’s Amazing Arms ™, and 2) the Blackpool klaxons begin immediately. Let me save you some time, celebs: you all want to go to Blackpool, you’ve all got some spurious reason why it’s more important to you than to anyone else, and no, I’m not interested in any of it, so take it down a notch, you needy whatnots. 

ON WITH THE SHOW!

Jake and Janette

I actually volunteered for the Latin this week, having failed to notice I would have to cover this rumba. Male Celeb Rumba. Janette Rumba. Neither bodes well. He dances it fine, I guess, though his shoulders are up throughout. I found the whole thing oddly unsettling though – he’s all embarrassed, then into it, then embarrassed, then into it, dancing then walking, then dancing, then walking…. No, in conclusion I did not like it, and it made me feel uncomfortable, and Jake is slipping from contender to also-ran in a hurry. The judges once again crap on about how the rumba is a difficult dance for a man SHUT UP JUDGES ALL THEY HAVE TO DO IS GET THEIR HIPS MOVING AND THEIR ARMS MOVING, IT’S THE WOMEN WHO HAVE ALL THE SPINS AND POSES AND EVERYTHING. It’s only difficult for the men to do because they get self conscious about all the wiggling, and I have zero patience for that sort of thing. Zoe then tries to pretend that Jake is super-fun behind the scenes. Nice try, Ball, but I ain’t buying. Jake gets 27 – firmly in the mid to low table danger zone, and I am surprised he wasn’t bottom two this week. 

Judy and Anton

It’s Andy! They must seriously have thought it was Judy’s last week to have rolled out the Andy VT. God I love Judy. And Andy. Basically I just love the Murray family. Can you imagine Christmas charades with the Murrays? It would be EPICALLY CRUSHINGLY BAD AND AMAZING. Anyway, this paso is bananas. Anton chucks Judy around like a rag doll, except that she is entirely rigid at all times. So a plank doll, I guess? Did I just invent a new rubbish toy? Kind words from Darcey, who is obviously trying for the gentle boot, but the other judges aren’t playing ball, thereby virtually guaranteeing Votes For Judy and a Blackpool Week appearance. Banton kicks in. I hate Banton. 

(Zoe puns up a storm between dances, doing Claudia proud. Did Tess do this many puns when she was in this role? Or did they think (rightly) that we couldn’t take this level of Puntivity from the Stockport Joke Murderer?)

Alison and Aljaz

Fun fact: Tess cannot say “Alison and Aljaz”. She renames Alison Alice every time – too many syllables otherwise. Anyway, these two do a super-fun Charleston to Friend Like Me from Aladdin, a song which I love from a cartoon which I adore and I still get sad about Robin Williams sometimes so let’s move on. She starts well with great swivel, then it all ends up a bit flat-footed, but it still makes me smile all the way through, as Alison generally does. She gets the same score as Jake, so absolutely in the danger zone, but I am gutted she has gone out – she was the most fun contestant to watch on a series which is dangerously close to having zero personality, and I will miss her. Let’s give a quick valedictory mention to whoever did Alison’s make-up all series – she has looked gorgeous each and every week, and I have serious lipstick envy.

(Simon, by the way, mugs at the camera from the balcony at every available opportunity all night. High from his strong performance? Let’s say it’s that.)

Frankie and Kevin

Kevin from Grimsby is in red trousers again, so my first thought is that Miss Jones will not be pleased.  I am thinking of directing Kevin to this blog.  He is also wearing a short-sleeved Christmas jumper. Frankie looks nice, but I can’t take my eyes off the trousers. Anyway, this samba is really good fast fun, and Frankie gives us demonstration number two (after her paso) that she is the Best Skirt Swisher in Town. There are no tricks, there is only dancing, and the judges give it quite a lot of chat about loads of dance content, but I disagree – I thought Kevin gave it pace because they didn’t have time to rehearse more content, and for a Frankie/Kevin dance it lacked some imagination. It is a bit underscored, mainly because of Craig, but it is still third on the leaderboard because the judges are grumpy not insane.

(At this point I notice that the pointer on my computer screen is hovering right at mouth level during the close ups, which means all the celebs look as though they are missing a tooth. I do not do anything about it because I am too lazy and also it makes me laugh.)

(Let’s check in on the results show before the last couple. We get a pro swing dance and look, I love a bit of swing, but this is insanely under-rehearsed. Kristina actually misses some moves, Janette tries to steal focus constantly until she is finally in the front, and Anton’s hair looks more sprayed on than usual which, ok, isn’t actually a rehearsal issue but I just thought I would mention it. Katherine Jenkins FAST FORWARD.)

Steve and Ola

This is basically WWF Does Paso, and I am talking about the wrestlers, not the pandas. Steve’s paso face is full meathead. You can’t fault the commitment or the attack, but the Pre-Traumatic Stress I had in week one about his shoulders turns out to be warranted – he hunches forward throughout the dance, so he gets no arch in his back and cannot shape his arms, so it’s mostly just very uncomfortable. He and Ola hug at the end, because they have to be DEFIANT IN THE FACE OF THE TABZ RUMOURS, but I am not buying it for a second. When they are up with Tess, he has her neck in a death grip – he looks to be checking her pulse or giving her a warning of some kind. Neither thought is particularly appealing. I thought it might be curtains for Steve tonight, but he stays in. It’s the first week I haven’t liked Steve, so either I am finally moving away from Personality Voting, or the TABZ have managed to affect me. It’s probably the latter, let’s be honest.

So that was my half of Identity Crisis Week. Judy survives again, but surely Blackpool will finish her off, Caroline has her visit to the bottom two just about on schedule (Kimberley was week 6), Simon continues his renaissance and Jake is plummeting. Over to Miss Jones, and see you all in Blackpool (OH GOD).