…..and so it ended. After six weeks of making me swoon like a chick at a Michael Bublé concert, Chris Jericho crashed out of Dancing with the Stars. Oh the sadness, and yet, the show goes on without him. My only outlet for extreme girliness on this blog was dashed away with one really lacklustre tango. I didn’t get to see the jive I knew would be awesome. I didn’t even get to use my next Chris Jericho crush-face. It looked like this:
There comes a moment in every series of Strictly Come Dancing (and it appears Dancing with the Stars too) where the pack splits. There are three or four good dancers who suddenly become great. Within one episode the rest just look rubbish. Chelsea, Romeo and Hines were all amazing. The judges even brought out the ’10’ paddles! Much as it pains me to say it, Chris Jericho was the weakest performer last week.
Kendra Wilkinson was lucky in that she was given the samba and, EVEN THOUGH HER BOUNCE ACTION WAS AWFUL, she managed to shake her tits and arse with such ferocity, the judges forgot to watch to see if she was executing the tricky samba bounce action correctly. It was….eye-popping. I imagine millions of men forced to watch the show with their wives had to reach for a cushion after she had performed. Jericho was unlucky in that he was given a dance he struggled to both understand and execute the week after he’d been top of the leaderboard. Pressure to be the best two weeks in a row is a killer. I’ll let you decide for yourselves, but to the judges (and to myself as the fourth and most important judge) it wasn’t sharp or focused enough at all.
So what have I learnt from these six weeks? I’ve learnt that despite ABC making a surprisingly good job of copying the UK show, I still prefer the British version. The incessant gimmicks killed it for me. The show is about people who’ve never danced before trying to learn how to ballroom dance in 12 weeks. THAT is the gimmick. There’s no need for Guilty Pleasures Week, American Week, Grieve for your Deceased Relatives Week, Dance with your Pet Week blah-blah-blah. It’s patronising if you do it every week. Having said that, if any wrestlers *cough*Edge*cough* decide to be a contestant next series, I’d be more than happy to drool over it a second time.
Thanks for indulging me with these posts. Thanks for letting me swoon, talk about pretty dresses and comment on dancing like the armchair expert I am without a single “THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH WRESTLING!!!!1!!1” comment. So, wrestling fans, as you’ve been so kind you can have Chris Jericho back now and I’ll go back to writing about sweaty wrestlers. But before I check my girly self at the door, one more indulgence. This one’s for the jive I never got to see, and also because it’s a bloody miracle we’ve run this feature for so long without me choosing a single Bublé track. I guarantee there will be more. Enjoy!