Strictly Anapestic
I wonder just how many of its devotees know that the name of the BBC TV show Strictly Come Dancing arises from a blend of Strictly Ballroom and Come Dancing?
For those that don’t, I assume you know of the long-running BBC ballroom dance series, Come Dancing, that ran for almost 50 years before it ended in 1998, whereas Strictly Ballroom is a Baz Luhrman film from the early 1990s about an ugly duckling’s transition to a ballroom swan. Luhrman’s film is one of those slightly offbeat Australian films of which ma famille is deeply fond (see also: Muriel’s Wedding, The Dish, The Castle, The Man Who Sued God and, of course, The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert).
Even though my only attempt at waltzing in front of an audience (on my wedding day!) left me rhythmically traumatised, I never actively avoided the early series of Strictly Come Dancing. Those were the shows where the amateurs were people of whom you’d actually heard and who’d received no prior dance training. In fact, sometimes I quite enjoyed those early shows, but I stopped watching when they introduced ‘clowns’ like John Sergeant for a bit of a laugh on the side, and the ‘celebrities’ were ‘nobodies’ as far as I was concerned.
So, I was not expecting to watch this year’s finale on my visit south to see the Matriarch, but she wanted to see it so I did the dutiful and watched the live transmission with her. I thought the dancers were really impressive. I could have done without some of the ‘behind the scenes’ stuff or the ‘insights’ into the competitors, or, frankly, the judges’ theatrics, but most of all, I could have done without Michael. Effing. Bublé.
Bublé’s rendition of the Drifter’s 1950s classic Such a Night was a travesty. I know some Strictly fans watching on TV complained that they couldn’t hear him properly, but they were the lucky ones; Such a Night is not the sort of song that you croon. This is the real thing, listen and learn, Bublé, listen and learn…
Phew, now the rant’s out of the way, here’s the limerick!
I watched the grand final of Strictly,
And found that it didn’t afflict me
With the sense of disdain
That I thought might pertain
As they chaséed and stepped quite briskly!
Alert readers will note that the metrical foot of the limerick is … you’ve guessed it … Strictly Anapestic.
