With the shocking news of the arrest of a second unnamed Strictly ‘star’ on suspicion of raping a woman, the programme that used to be the BBC’s golden goose is yet again mired in controversy.
One has to wonder whether the so-called ‘curse’ of Strictly has finally turned in on itself to shatter the glitterball for ever.
There was a time when more than ten million people, myself included, tuned in every Saturday to watch Strictly Come Dancing, the ultimate family-friendly show that promised to turn ugly-duckling novices into dancing swans. Now the viewing figures have plunged to six million – and that’s before this latest scandal.
One reason for our disenchantment is that instead of teaching newcomers to dance, the producers have increasingly included celebrities who turn out to be trained dancers.
Three of the celebrities currently high on the leaderboard have had professional on-stage experience, including Lewis Cope, a dazzling dancer who was first to get four tens on this series. He was runner up on Sky One’s Got To Dance and began his career in the West End’s production of Billy Elliot The Musical.
Then there’s Love Island’s Amber Davies, a trained dancer with a background in musical theatre who, paired with Nikita Kuzmin, has steadfastly remained in the top of the Strictly leaderboard.
But there’s more to Strictly’s downfall than this. Where did it all go so wrong?
Were the show’s high-profile stars so inflated by their own egos, so untouchable, that BBC bosses turned a blind eye to their behaviour and to what was going on behind the sequined beauty of the ballroom?
The scandals have been coming faster than any foxtrot. Accusations of pro dancers allegedly using cocaine led to the BBC launching an investigation into alleged Class A drug use on set by not just one but two of the show’s stars.
There have been claims of brutal bullying which left contestants – including celebrities – not just in tears and pain but often injured by their gruelling practice sessions.
Viewers are leaving in droves. My devoted Strictly Saturday-night club has dwindled from 12 members back in the day to just two – me and my moggie, Ted. And I make sure I pre-record it so we can fast-forward the boring bits which now comprise three quarters of the show.
I can’t be doing with the judges any more either: Shirley Ballas who blatantly promotes her own private dance sessions; the unwatchably gobby Motsi Mabuse; gormlessly grinning Anton Du Beke; and the once wonderful Craig Revel Horwood who used to add spice to the show but seems muzzled now in the BBC’s PC world and is limited to saying everyone is ‘fab-u-lous’.
And all of them are paid an astonishing sum of around £250,000 per series.
The sad truth is the magic of Strictly died when its original host Bruce Forsyth exited the stage to be replaced by the ironing-board thin, vacuous Tess Daly and the enigmatic Claudia Winkleman with her irritating fringe (which my hairdresser says is a fake clip on).
And after it died the disasters multiplied.
Who can forget how the show hit the headlines for all the wrong reasons when actress Amanda Abbington threatened to sue the BBC for the ‘bullying’ she claims she suffered at the hands of her of pro dancer Giovanni Pernice. He denied any suggestions of abusive or threatening behaviour but left the show heartbroken.
Or how last year, his fellow pro dancer Graziano Di Prima was sacked for gross misconduct having, allegedly, kicked his dance partner Zara McDermott in training.
Now we have a second accusation of rape after another unnamed man was arrested on suspicion of sexual assault in August. And this, on top of the Met being called in to investigate illegal drug use on Strictly.
Is this litany of scandal the real reason the show’s lost its stellar star Claudia Winkleman? Did she see, despite the fringe, what’s coming? Who knows.
But what we can say for certain is the show has lost its appeal – and the glitter is gone for good.
Harry humiliated
Humiliating for Prince Harry that in an interview promoting her jams, Meghan describes him as having ‘a childlike wonder’, gushing that’s what drew her to him – not his royal title, nor his fame but his ‘playfulness’.
The soft lad who achieved a B in art and a D in geography for his two A-levels at Eton needs no reminder of the fact he is the dimmest member of the Royal Family.
Although to give credit where it’s due, he deserves a master’s degree in feeding his organic chooks.
