Twenty years ago I stormed into a meeting of senior newspaper executives and announced to the group, consisting mostly of middle-aged men, that I had just seen a program that would forever change the way people watched Saturday night television.
It was a ballroom dancing competition, I explained, where novices were paired with professional dancers and everyone competed for a trophy in the shape of a shiny ball.
As I gushed about the other magical elements of the show (the sequins, the makeup, the live music, the beautiful dresses), I was greeted not with enthusiasm but with a sea of bewildered expressions.
Even when I mentioned that the host would be the legendary Bruce Forsyth, with his new catchphrase ‘Keep Dancing!’, I failed to make a good impression.
I was so enthralled by the first episode of Strictly, starring Bruce Forsyth (pictured), that I predicted it would eclipse Simon Cowell’s dominance of Saturday nights, writes Amanda Platell
Comparing it to The X Factor, I said there was a “wonderful absence of malice in this show.”
Of course, I had seen the first episode of Strictly Come Dancing and was so fascinated that I predicted it would eclipse Simon Cowell’s dominance of Saturday nights.
My glowing review appeared in the Mail under the headline: ‘Why Come Dancing has the X Factor’.
“Finally the time has come: a reality show that isn’t rotten,” I wrote. “Go for it, Strictly Come Dancing, quick-step or cha cha, it’s all good for me.”
‘The choice, on a Saturday night, between Simon Cowell’s The X Factor, which attempts to destroy a human being’s self-esteem forever (and that’s just his fellow judges), the gentle world of waltzing and I’ll take Strictly any day.’
I even risked the wrath of the sisterhood by writing that “at a time when we’re unsure of our roles, it’s refreshing to have them defined for us: a boy grabs a girl and they dance their hearts out.”
Part of the magic of Strictly was that it evoked a more innocent, straightforward time, when women could enjoy having a strong man’s arm around them.
Comparing it to The X Factor, I said there was a ‘wonderful absence of malice on this show, it’s like a breath of fresh air’.
All of this is hard to square with what Strictly has become, its very existence threatened by a series of bullying scandals in the rehearsal room as it prepares for its 20th anniversary series.
It all started in January, when Amanda Abbington demanded to see footage of her rehearsals with her professional dance partner Giovanni Pernice before accusing him of being “unnecessarily cruel, abusive and mean” in training, leaving her with PTSD and, rather meanly, a bruised toe.
In the months since, she has given so many interviews to such a wide range of media outlets that many fans now see her as a woman on a mission to destroy Strictly.
Last week on Channel 4 News she tearfully told presenter Krishnan Guru-Murthy how she suffered “humiliating behaviour of a sexual nature” at the hands of Giovanni. She has even hired the prestigious law firm Carter-Ruck and appears to be seeking compensation for loss of earnings and compensation for the trauma she claims to have suffered.
Amanda Abbington, pictured with her former dance partner Giovanni Pernice, has accused him of being “unnecessarily cruel, abusive and mean” in training. He denies the allegations.
Amanda tearfully speaks to Channel 4 News about her experience on Strictly last week
Giovanni, for his part, denies all the allegations. He has hired his own lawyers for Schillings, claiming the BBC breached its duty of care by associating him with a celebrity, who was clearly vulnerable. Amanda had given an interview in which she said she had considered suicide following her split from Sherlock actor and her partner of 16 years, Martin Freeman.
Part of the problem is that not only have the dancers become increasingly demanding over the years, but so have the judges.
The original panel – Len Goodman, Arlene Phillips, Craig Revel Horwood and Bruno Tonioli – were a benevolent bunch. Yes, they made great jokes about terrible dancers, but they were never malicious and were effusively complimentary of the great performers.
Over time, the judges changed, and the new ones were more critical than their predecessors. While they explained the intricacies of certain dance techniques and the mistakes of celebrities, it sometimes seemed as if the show had become an exercise in ballroom technique, rather than a joyful celebration of learning to dance.
And the professional dancers were becoming as famous – if not more famous – than the celebrities they were paired with. Did that help boost their egos and their desire to win? I’m afraid so.
The footage of them pushing their partners to their limits while honing their skills in rehearsals looked more like a training camp than a dance studio.
In the early days of Strictly, scores of 10 from the judges were as rare as hen’s teeth; now, they rain down like confetti on even the most average dancers.
Remember when Top Gear’s Quentin Wilson scored two 1s in the first series in 2004 before being eliminated?
Or the time Judge Craig gave a 1 to Susannah Constantine’s Foxtrot starring Anton Du Beke.
And how can we forget John Sergeant’s 1, 3, 4, 4 count during his 2009 cha cha, during which he literally dragged his professional partner Kristina Rihanoff across the ballroom?
He tells presenter Krishnan Guru-Murthy how he suffered “humiliating behaviour of a sexual nature” at the hands of Giovanni. He denies the allegations.
These ratings were entirely appropriate, given that the show’s original premise was for all of the celebrity contestants to be amateurs. However, last year it was revealed that no fewer than eight of the celebrities had prior dancing experience.
I understand that 20 years is a long time in showbiz and that shows have to adapt to the new times. So as time went on, Stricly became more and more conscious, more inclusive and more demanding of the contestants. But it also became much more demanding of them.
Ah, those days in 2004, when a genuine newcomer, Natasha Kaplinsky, took to the dance floor with Brendan Cole and won the first series, transformed from a rather uptight newsreader (I even nicknamed her ‘Spangles’) into an elegant swan.
I’m afraid I completely lost faith in Strictly when they signed the famous Layton Williams last year. I understand why BBC bosses were attracted to his moving life story – the gay son of an impoverished white mother and an absent Jamaican father. He seemed like a lovely guy and was an exquisite dancer.
And she teamed up with professional Nikita Kuzmin to be Strictly’s first same-sex male couple. All great for diversity, but a disaster for the show as they are both professional dancers
What amateur celebrity could possibly stand a chance against someone like Layton, who had been a professional dancer since childhood and had appeared as the West End star of Billy Elliot at 12, before starring in the musicals Everyone’s Talking About Jamie and Hairspray!?
So whatever the verdict of the BBC’s internal investigation into the harassment allegations, for me, Strictly has been forever tarnished.
The BBC has serious questions to answer about its treatment of contestants and professionals. These questions will be directed right up to the door of its director general, Tim Davie, who last week could only parrot corporate language, insisting that the corporation will “never tolerate unacceptable behaviour” and that “the line must never be crossed”.
Well, with this downgrading of the BBC’s crown jewel, that line has been crossed and we, the fans, are very angry.
Amanda’s legal battle alone threatens to drag on for months, if not years, with all the lurid headlines that accompany it.
It all seems a million miles away from the original Strictly, when Bruce Forsyth greeted us all with: “Good to see you, good to see you…” and we shouted back with glee: “Good to see you!”
