If politics is showbiz for ugly people, then what kind of folks is Strictly Come Dancing for? Before the brouhaha, I’d have said talented, watchable, teachable, almost recognisable — but also fame-hungry. I’d have said Strictly is telly for pushy people. Which is presumably why some execs from unscripted tried to persuade moi a few years ago, over cocktails in the Electric.
“Won’t work, I’d make Jimmy Tarbuck look like the Sugar Plum Fairy,” I told them as I gargled my second picante. I even admitted that I never watch the show (true). I find it helps not to watch the shows before you sign up to do them, just keep a beady eye on the fee negotiation instead (I’d never watched Celebrity Big Brother or Celebrity Best Home Cook or Celebrity SAS Who Dares Wins either, before I did them — too much reality, as they say).
In the end they organised “a lesson with Giovanni” in a studio off the North End Road somewhere. Pernice, the poor man, trolleyed me around (I am aware of Amanda Abbington’s interview and allegations but he had impeccable manners on this occasion) and while I could just about master the basics of salsa, ballroom was a non-starter.
In the end nothing came of it but a cricked neck and, as I recall, my initial suspicions that I was being lined up to be a poundshop Susannah Constantine/Vorders/Anneka Rice — i.e a jolly trouper — were confirmed by none other than the former BBC political editor John Sargeant (he’d dragged his partner like Winnie-the-Pooh across the shiny floors, remember). “You were right,” he said. “You’re too old to be a hot babe and too young to be a National Treasure like me.”
The dance show has gone from being bumbling to being monetised, socially mediated, and a bit ruined
With that out of the way, it is to the twists of that dance competition that we must now turn. The least surprising “revelation” to date — far less so than the fact that contestants were allegedly spat at, kicked or shouted at during training; that two of the Sexy Italian Stallion professional dancers, including Pernice, are now “resting”; that former participants are in a secret WhatsApp group, no doubt called Strictly Survivors, to pool their woes — is this.
The show will go on! According to the director-general, Tim Davie, the ratings-topper is safe. “Of course, alongside the fun and entertainment, there will be a degree of competitiveness, hard work, and a will to do well, that’s part of what makes this show,” he said. Then he added that he wanted it to be a happy family-friendly fun light entz show, only less intense. He wanted the competition to be less… competitive.
Too late, Tim. You can’t put the toothpaste back into the cathode ray tube. Strictly can never again be a safe space for ageing light entertainers or news anchors. The dance show, like almost everything else in life, from tablescaping to parkrun, has gone from being enjoyably bumbling and amateur to being professionalised, monetised, socially mediated, and a bit ruined.
There’s no going back. Strictly is the only show on telly that dangles before both contestants and the dance pros untold fame and fortune when it comes to Blackpool, the tour, endorsements, other bookings, and so on. It’s the Dream Factory.
Moreover, the longer you stay in, the bigger the rewards, which places intense pressure on trainers to lick their lumpen partners into shape in a few weeks. It’s the only show in town that’s a game-changer. With Strictly there’s the chance of a before and an after.
Ed Balls would never have searched his own name on Twitter after he’d done Gangnam Style, would he? No need.
It’s been mooted that Strictly might struggle to book female celebrities because “they would want to appear supportive of the previous contestants who have reported harsh treatment”. Mmm. I wouldn’t turn the glitterball down out of female solidarity. I’d turn it down because I think I’d be terrible, and I don’t need that suspicion confirmed by 10 million viewers every Saturday night on Twitter.
And now, as Strictlygate wears on, rehearsals will be chaperoned, and there will also be two welfare producers — whatever they are — added to the crew. Honestly.
As a “survivor” of Celebrity Big Brother, I know this; the bigger the cheque, the more brutal the show. Even if I felt a bit peely-wally after CBB, the fee helped numb the pain.
I have no complaints about any of the shows I’ve done, only grateful incredulity I was ever asked to do them.
If you can’t stand the heat, get out of the set kitchen.
