So he’s gone. I was not expecting that. I had fully expected Ed Balls to make the final of Strictly, breaking the long-standing tradition of the audience voting out the joke acts by week eight. Whatever you thought of his performances (and the supermodel tango and last week’s “Great Balls” jive were really quite awful, let’s be honest), the show won’t be the same without him. So now it will be an actual dance competition? How dull. The judges have won.
After Gangnam Style, I thought he had transcended Strictly and become a full-blown cultural phenomenon. I thought that was what was keeping him in. There was a certain amount of evidence that people were voting for him for reasons that had nothing to do with the show. A vote for Ed was a vote against Brexit, Farage, UKIP, “racist Britain”, “fascism”, Corbynite Labour, Trump, against misery and uncertainty. Even Brexiteers could get on board, because a vote for Ed was also very clearly a vote against experts (the judges). It was a vote for fun, joy, hope, the British have-a-go spirit. It was also a vote for the nostalgia of the pre-Iraq Cool Britannia years. This was a massive, unstoppable constituency; a weird coalition of adorables, if you like. I really thought that vote would carry him through to the end because there is no other way to vote for these things and the desire for them is powerful. I thought all this. But I was wrong.
Gangnam Style is, of course, slightly to blame for his demise – though without it, he would not have stayed in this long. Gangnam Style brought the curse of expectation: if he was going to stay in, he needed to match it or, preferably, better it, every week. And it couldn’t be done.
Now suddenly it’s a level playing field (Rinder will go next, unless Claudia has a terrible week). Louise, Ore and Claudia are all evenly matched. No one, of course, can catch Danny Mac who is virtually out-dancing everyone on the show, pros included.
Ed Balls’ exit masked the real story of the weekend: Danny Mac’s samba, which, as my grandma would have said, very nearly took your eye out with all that pelvic thrusting. Heavens. As the judges pointed out, it was the best samba they’d ever had on the show. It was also a routine that was virtually unlearnable in a week. (And for Darcey to say this, with her ballet background, means that it really is superhuman.) Perfection, though, is dangerous. He needs to be even better next week. As for the judges ... smug much? They’ve got their way. But I think they’ll be sorry. So what did the weekend look like from where they were sitting?
Darcey: woman of a thousand hairstyles
Darcey looked like she had gone wild in the bathroom this week with Shaders and Toners, with a russet hue to her hair. She has been turning spikier this series, speaking her mind more freely, which is nice to see. She nailed why Rinder’s rumba looked so awkward: “There was no purpose to the moves.” She gave the best tribute to Danny. And then she even went full Lydia Grant from Fame: “This is a new Claudia. I want to see more.” (Think of this in the voice of Debbie Allen saying: “Fame costs. And right here is where you start paying.”)
Bruno: the jack-in-the-box
On Danny’s “pagan mating ritual”: “What are you doing to me? I don’t know if I need a doctor or a pill or a cold shower.” Bruno could not be more ebullient this series if he tried. I love his ongoing comparisons to random films. On Ore and Joanne’s “Fifty Shades of Weird with Added Ping Pong Table” paso: “It was like Tom Ford’s Nocturnal Animals as a paso.” Bruno deserves a medal for being the nicest to Ed Balls: “You’re like junk food. You know you shouldn’t eat it, but you can’t help wanting more.”
Len: the diamond geezer on a farewell tour
Ah, Len. He’s just kicking back this series, waiting for his gold carriage clock. He exerts a bit of effort while demonstrating steps for Len’s Lens, but apart from that he’s dreaming of the 19th hole. And who can blame him? There was a nice bit of argy-bargy with Craig over criticism for Louise: “What’s he on about?” (Craig quite rightly spotted her hunched shoulders. And why does she have to keep looking at the floor? Head up, Louise! Head up!) This highlighted something I’ve noticed the last few weeks. Louise gets an easy ride from the judges and is overmarked. Maybe they want to make sure a woman’s in the final (and Claudia has already been in the dance-off). But it is noticeable.
Craig: the great choreographer trapped inside a pantomime dame
I don’t know if anyone else noticed Craig’s entrance on Saturday night but he did the wildest figure-of-eight hip movements you have ever seen. As mentioned below the line here on occasion, I think we can safely assume he is auditioning for a promotion to head judge, ditching the Mr Nasty persona and bringing his showbiz side to the fore. I think it would be no bad thing. (With Karen Hardy in place as fourth judge.) One of my favourite Craig-isms is when he uses French dance terms – this week to Ore: “grand jete en tournant” – and says them at speed as he clearly can’t speak French. I think he might come to regret one of his parting shots to Ed. “Committed? After that, you should be.”
