There used to be three things of which we could be certain: death, taxes, and Strictly providing a guaranteed unmissable, exciting, cosy route to Christmas. But this time round, something's gone wrong. Asking with an extremely heavy heart: is it just me or is Strictly lacking its sparkle this year? Ploughing through it has so far felt like a chore, a punishment, rather than the pure, much anticipated joy it usually is.
This has nothing to do with the allegations, the scandal – none of that has been addressed on screen, and my main viewing companions have been little kids, who weren't aware of it anyway. It's a bigger problem than that, unfortunately. The show is missing some crucial element you can't quite put your finger on.
It feels empty, soulless, like everyone is just going through the motions. The magic isn't happening. Of course all casts can't be incredible, and we were spoiled last year.
Bobby Brazier, Layton Williams and Ellie Leach were all talented contestants we could happily root for. And there was also the life-affirming healing journey of recently widowed Annabel Croft, in the gentle hands of Johannes Radebe. But normally even if you're a bit nonplussed when the line-up's announced, there's someone who unexpectedly steals your heart.
This year? I mean, blind Chris McCausland is obviously very impressive, but beyond that? Meh. They're all so..
. normal. Even the bad dancers are boring.
Think back to Anne Widdecombe being dragged along the floor by Anton Du.
