Give me Fred As­taire over this lot any day

Cynon Valley - - YOUR VIEWS - Ian Price Cwm­parc

AM I alone in think­ing that the tele­vi­sion pro­gramme Strictly Come Danc­ing is noth­ing but a load of terp­si­chorean tat?

I watched it re­cently out of cu­rios­ity and as far as I can see it’s made up of mid­dle-aged pre­sen­ters – Da­ley, Win­kle­man and Ball – try­ing to look 16, celebri­ties (the bane of mod­ern tele­vi­sion) mak­ing fools of them­selves and pro­fes­sional dancers des­per­ate for air-time.

Don’t get me wrong. I like dance when it’s done by the likes of Fred As­taire, Eleanor Powell or Gene Kelly, but this pro­gramme’s am­a­teur dancers re­mind me of drunks try­ing to step on cock­roaches.

More to the point, the pro­gramme it­self seems to have per­me­ated the na­tional con­scious­ness. It (along with cer­tain “bak­ing” pro­grammes) has be­come the dom­i­nant theme in Bri­tish cul­ture; I have heard it ref­er­enced in an­tiques pro­grammes, arts pro­grammes, news items, ra­dio shows and even wildlife doc­u­men­taries.

Per­son­ally, I’ve had enough of judg­ing pan­els giv­ing their sub­jec­tive opin­ions on ev­ery­thing from spaghetti bolog­nese to top tenors to danc­ing dogs and the doo­dle ally two-step.

Satur­day nights used to be a time for a crack­ing good film, in­tel­li­gent in­ter­views and pro­fes­sional co­me­di­ans.

I was hop­ing for a re­turn to those hal­cyon days but the “brains” at the top of the broad­cast­ing com­pa­nies seem hell-bent on con­tin­u­ing their ad­her­ence and com­mit­ment to dumb­ing down. A Danse Macabre for any dis­cern­ing viewer.

Our correspondent is not a fan of Strictly Come Danc­ing, which he be­lieves is a sign of broad­cast­ers dumb­ing down

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