Add Strictly Come Dancing and The Celebrity Traitors to your watchlist
Are we really so fickle? Just two years ago, Chris McCausland won the trophy and the nation’s hearts and changed perceptions of disability with his emotional waltz to Gerry and the Pacemakers. Two years before that, Rose Ayling-Ellis won a Bafta for her powerful silent routine. Strictly Come Dancing was then the shining jewel in the BBC crown. Now, while it hasn’t quite been murdered on the dancefloor, it’s clearly tottering on its sequinned heels.
In theory, Strictly should be bullet-proof, as the global success of its format has proved, but the bulging RT postbag has shown this not to be so, with viewers baulking at everything from D-list celebrity bookings to time wasted on “inane chat and slow-motion hugging” and, inevitably, the new presenters.
To those defending the incoming trio, I remind them that this training camp is taking place on our licence fee. The Radio 1 Breakfast show DJ learns their trade on smaller, quieter shifts, not on the actual breakfast show. Who was the senior exec who watched rehearsals and run-throughs and either thought it was good enough, or crossed their fingers and hoped for “all right on the night”? To them, I remind them, long ago, an LWT chief watched the pilot for Blind Date and immediately set about recruiting another presenter.
Sometimes the hardest, best decision is to say, “Stop”, lest you end up with the Millennium Dome and the Queen holding hands to sing with Tony Blair.
Does it really matter that the bloom has gone off the BBC’s light-entertainment primetime rose? With the BBC charter renewal being thrashed out in the background, it couldn’t be worse timing in providing ammo to the Beeb’s many critics: “If they can’t even maintain this juggernaut, what can they do?” And where have all the celebrities gone?
The answer to both these questions is, of course The Traitors, with A-listers opting to spend a fortnight fibbing in a Scottish castle over nine long weeks perfecting their paso doble. Fortunately for the BBC, this has become a ratings winner as reliable as Strictly in its heyday, and with a host who significantly ditched the latter for the former. Turns out it’s Claudia Winkleman who’s bulletproof these days.
But Claudia wasn’t always “Claudia”. In the early days of her presenting career, she didn’t even have the fringe. Gary Lineker first appeared on our screens as a fumbling former footballer-pundit, lucky to learn at the knee of the finest in all things, Des Lynam. The great Jim Bowen’s first attempt at Bullseye was described as so bad that ATV wiped all evidence, never to be seen again. History has been kind to all three, but we live in different times.
Keir Starmer may have proved an able, stable, Attlee-esque figure 50 years ago; now our prime ministers don’t outlive lettuces. Manchester United manager Alex Ferguson oversaw a 1990 slump before his two-decade imperious era began, while this year saw Ruben Amorim sacked after just 14 months in the same job. In 2026, we require our luminaries to arrive fully formed or suffer a swift and binary backlash.
In the meantime, my penn’orth for how to save Strictly? I’d keep Emma “safe pair of hands” Willis on the floor, send Widdicombe up the stairs for some unscripted “Joshularity” and have Johannes (not this embarrassing “Jojo” rebrand) providing expert dance analysis in the rehearsal rooms. Make him a pundit of sorts, then at least he’ll be ripe for the next reboot of Match of the Day.