Thursday, 25 September 2008

Strictly Come Frequently

How many series of Strictly Come Dancing have there been now? 12? 29? However many it is, I'd always prided...prouded...prude...prodded...taken pride in the fact that I'd never seen it. Somehow I felt it just made me more heterosexual than everyone else, and I felt like that was something I needed - I'm not good at sports and don't have a girlfriend. People are beginning to talk.

Anyway, throwing caution (and my hotly debated sexuality) to the wind, I tried giving it a watch the other week, and it was tolerable. As much as I didn't enjoy watching minor-celebrities dance badly, I did enjoy watching the judges tear them apart as if in a camp court of law, with the defendants being charged with offenses relating to dancing shitly. So that was entertaining.

On the downside, the smug git Mark Foster takes his shirt off at every POSSIBLE opportunity. Training for the Samba? Mark's got his top off. It's hot in the studio? Mark's got his top off. Someone asks Mark to pass the water? He'll probably take his top off. Stop it Mark.