So remember how I said that if Jason was passable or better then he may well walk away with the show given the probably crossover between his fanbase and this show? Well…turns out that Jason is passable or better, so get ready for that. Sure his hips are thrown around like a cartoon hippo in a free-falling lift, his faces are terrifying, and he does a really off-putting fist pump at the end that he probably also does after sex, let’s face. But…passable or better, and the answer to the question “how would Kristina choreograph someone who is good?” is answered with “not all that bad, in a fairly straightforward sort of way”.
Speaking of which, guess who turns in a simple, straightforward, gimmick-free cha cha for her talented partner? That’s right, it’s Aliona! Sure it’s to that modern pop music (“Moos Like Jagger” by Adam Levine And His Maroon Five to be precise), but by Aliona standards it’s tasteful and well pitched to her slightly nervy, stiff, reserved partner. Naturally this means that it gets washed away as flavourless by everything that follows, meaning that…hey Aliona was probably right in the first place. TAKE THAT INTERNET! BRING BACK THE GLITTER-WELLIES AND THE SWING!
In terms of other choreography, Pasha makes a decent start, pushing out a well-conceived “Eliza Doolittle Becomes A Lady” vibed waltz that is sadly pitched slightly ahead of Chelsee’s current ability level. Although to be fair, that ability level is going to remain fairly static unless she learns how to deport herself in heels slightly better. I see an It Takes Two comedy montage in her immediate future, hopefully soundtracked with “Why Can’t A Woman Be More Like A Man?”. Erin also delivers to a degree, pulling out a standardly classy “Erin On Autopilot” Waltz to Weekend In New England, although she’s somewhat sabotaged by the fact that Rory’s lost control of all his impressions to such a degree that he’s wearing a manic Tony Blair insincerity face throughout. The voices! They’re out of control! He needs an exorcism! Or maybe… well, you know… James also guides Alex through an attempt to look sexy that is nice in theory, but not so much in practice, given that she appears to be trying to melt into his actual body like damp. He then gets into a big fight with Craig over something because, hey, nobody else has done it this week.
Less notable on the choreography front sadly are the gentlemen in charge of the Strictly Come Dancing OAP Ladies Wing, both of whom have turned up looking like The Cheeky Girls : 40 Years On (the women obviously). Vincent yanks Wiggy’s Jive choice for Gloria Hunniford and somehow contrives to make something worse. At least that was just boring, rather than a mincey swingaround that ends with Vincent spinning round on his arse and almost pulling Edwina over with him (he’s probably the wrong height). But the capo di tutti capi (CAUSE SHE’S ITALIAN INNIT!) of this week’s comedy nonsense is just what happens when Nancy takes to the floor.
Firstly she spends a good 30 seconds of the routine just sat on her arse on a chaise-lounge fanning herself. That’s it. Just when I think that’s all there is, she disembarks and gets attacked by her own feather boa, in the greatest act of wardrobe malfunction in Strictly history, rendering her all but completely immobile. This carries on for the whole routine, with her and Anton increasingly pissily trying to pick it, kick it, LAUNCH IT off her feet. It’s a wonderful, awful, compelling disaster, and gets a truly orgasmic 1 from Craig.
My phone bill is lucky that there’s no voting this week, because it was funnier than every Widdy dance combined.