SCD Week 10 21st November

Thanks, Bren!

I feel I need to apologise from the very start this week - even with the benefit of three stiff G&T’s it would take a far more accomplished humourist than I am to get much of a laugh out of the dog’s breakfast we were served up this week, but bear with me, please, for old time’s sake!

My heart plummeted the second I saw the relentlessly twinkly-eyes and the half-crazed grin on the face of Old Pop Forsyth as he came stumbling nimbly down the stairs and lepped jauntily into his grape-crushing routine, all the while the recipient of admiring glances from Tactless who, mouth agape and applauding like Kermit the Frog, tried her best to act as the spokesperson for a bereft nation in welcoming the old chuff back to ‘his’ show! Gaarrrgggghhh!

Even the frock, as dismal as it was, didn’t inspire me to take the piss - much - and the hubba wasn’t by my side to give moral support and pithy comments, being more concerned in having a spirited argument at the door with the lad delivering the Chinese. It seems that the shouting bloke, not content with just making up in his head what he *thinks* we’ve ordered, had sent the right stuff but written the wrong total on the side of the little carrier-bag!   

Brightening slightly, my hopes started to rise that the evening was looking up, only to be dashed when Mr ’I-cannot-tell-a-lie’ nobly informed me that we’d been undercharged by almost £10 and that he, the hubba, had had to insist that the delivery lad took the full normal amount.

There are times when, despite my wonky knee, I could just leap up from the sofa and kill him. This was one of them, but at least the ensuing bitter recriminations between us spared me from having to listen to Pop milk the audience applause to what can only be described as a sickening degree - and when the last eejit had stopped applauding him wildly, it turns out that there’s still worse news to come before a step is danced - Jumping Jade will dance no more. You can’t really blame her - it’s the sensible thing to do, but her absence - and that of the delicious Ian - takes an awful lot of gilt from the rather stodgy slab of gingerbread that remains.

Oh well, the first cat’s just been red-carded and flung into the outer darkness of the hall for climbing up the back of the hubba as he dished the meal up and the other three are on a yellow for ‘grabbing‘, so let’s get on - quick - before Pop can begin to stutter his way through another old chestnut of a joke (circa1948) - and who do we have out first - hooray - it’s:-

Princess Ali and Prince Charming USA
Gorgeous frock, lovely music, both of them look and, to me, dance divinely - surely the joodges will be impressed? No, they’re not - terrific - thanks a lot, you loonies - now I’ll have to spend at least 50p voting for the two of them, despite the fact that they seemed to do *everything* that Victor Silvester would have expected them to do according to my book, retrieved with the help of a ladle from the top of the cupboard only this afternoon! I hope the spirit of Victor returns and haunts Old Father Goodman as he’s trying to drop off to sleep tonight!

Nat’lie and Vinthent
Danthing the thaaarmba - I liked the cothtumeth, I liked the muthic and I *love* thith danthe - if I hadn’t been thtuffing mythelf with thweet and thour chicken and rithe, I might have rithked the wonky knee and given it a go mythelf - it wathn’t great, but thaarmba’th rarely are. Oh, crikey - here we go, I could have thpit in Craig’th eye - and Len’th - and Bruno’th - bleth you, Aletha, you might as well just thay whatever you like, chuck - they’ll thlaughter you on the Pink Palathe anyway! Lookth ath if even more of the Pyramid Privy Purthe will have to go on keeping the two of them in!

Smuggo Baggins and Ooh-la-la.
Dancing the Viennese Whirl apparently - very modest frock (for her), okay music - Ohhh - that face on him - that terrible little smirky smug face and those skippy little twinkling feet - and - I just noticed that he laughs like Basil Brush! O.O They’re just sooooo *boring* and sick-making! I was really quite glad of the diversion and the first good laugh of the night, when, in the middle of the hubba’s sanctimonious diatribe No.4 (‘It’s no use shouting at the cats now when it was you who made beggars of them!”), the hubba’s favourite girl, Lola, snatched a large piece of chicken from his fork and set off round the living-room like a wall of death rider with the other chicken-lovers in hot pursuit.

Feathers Whittle and Tina Sparkle
Well, this pair froze the laughter on my lips - the dress was okay, but would have looked less tarty and benefited from some kind of underskirt - and why, in the name of all that’s Holy, did they choose the yodelling version of ‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow’ to dance to - just to madden me, that’s why. What’s the dance supposed to be then - Oh - an American Smooth - looked like a veeery slooow and tedious waltz to me, finished off with a spot of weight-lifting. I always hate being on the same page as Pop Goodman, but I have to agree with him - I never saw Fred Astaire do anything like that, and I think Victor S might also have been a bit tight-lipped if he’d seen it - but all of the other joodges gush and fawn and - Oh, Alesha - you silly tart - how can I possibly stand up for you when you do things like that?

Laila-Sprained-Ankle (lite) and The Berk
I’ve totally lost sympathy with her after last week’s exhibition - now I think she’s a hypochondriac and a wimp who reached her peak in Week 2 and has been treading water and ‘acting’ ever since - I know, I know - his Latin sucks, but I increasingly feel that her ‘promise’ is no more than hot air and that no matter how low the standard he sets her, she simply can’t reach it. The endless whimpering and ‘putting a brave face on it’ for ‘those viewers who voted to keep us in’ turned my stomach, much to the delight of the hovering hungry horde who got a much better supper than they’d hoped for in their wildest dreams.

Ricky Goldfish and Erin, formerly the best-dressed dancer on the show.
I was *livid* that he ruined my hilarious description of his ‘Herr Flick' (trademark Bambionice) persona and appeared as himself - but I couldn’t tell the hubba so as I was struck dumb at the sheer, indescribable horror of Erin’s frock - closely matched by their sheer, indescribable attempt at a tango stumbled through to music so horrid it beggared belief - the Argentinian ambassador should instantly demand an apology to his people! God Help us and Save us - surely this almost surpasses the Muppet Dance in terms of Strictly Suicide! O.O

I recovered the power of speech shortly afterwards, but to no avail since the hubba was gazing adoringly as his Lilia and nothing, short of detonating an atom-bomb right beside his left ear, would induce him to take his eyes from the telly while the lovely minx is flashing her eyes, legs and boobs at him.

What’s next - hmmmm - the pro’s rumba - and the ladies appear to be wearing some more of Vermin’s creations, taken from the pages of his forthcoming book, “Twenty ways to make frocks out of an old sheet” - and I know my darling Matthew, Il Divino, is there somewhere and dancing just for me, but as usual, that brazen Ginger’s in the way, gurning and chucking herself around.

If the guests turn out to be Westlife this week, I may well lose the will to live - Ooooh - it’s Dame Shirley, looking fine and singing fantastically - watch her and weep, all of you personality-free, yodelling, X-factor clones - that’s a real DIVA!

And as the shorter than usual evening draws to a close, to nobody’s surprise, Erin and the Goldfish are history - and I should be pleased, but at least, until this week, he’s provided some much needed comedy - with the demise of Jade and the sudden U-turn of the joodges against Ali, I honestly can’t see anyone but Feathers or Smuggo winning now and the prospect fills me with utter gloom!

Maybe it’s the gin?



Edited by Aida - 22 Nov 2009 at 00:09

Classic as ever Aida......i joined this forum partly because of your reports

Edited by Shamon - 22 Nov 2009 at 00:28

as always Aida, your blog is actually better than the show

Great review as always, Aida

Very funny Aida,

Thank you soooooo much for all of the wonderful comments - I'm trying not to let them go to me head!

In answer to a few queries - I think my boy Craig Revile-Horrid shows tremendous restraint in not headbutting Old Pop Goodman when he strikes up - especially when he's already had his turn to to speak and gone through his whole, "Yer came out 'ere an' yer give it a go ...." spiel!

I watched Dancing with the Stars once - and I'm afraid I didn't like it - it's a bit too glossy and overdone, so there wasn't much to laugh at - overall, for me, it was a bit like being fed forcibly with treacle!

'Herr Flick' is, in my opinion, one of the most hilarious and inspired nicknames in the history of SCD - brava, Bambina-mia!

I'm sorry, but we'll never agree on Feathers and Tina Sparkle, Deborah - I don't doubt for a moment that he'll probably win, but I find him utterly soulless - as for La Belle Lilia - the hubba adores her so much he wouldn't care if she was dancing in ski's!