In 1976, Angela Rippon was already well-known to Britain’s TV watchers — from the waist up — as Britain’s first female national newsreader. Then aged 38, she appeared on a Morecambe & Wise Christmas special, sitting behind her desk, only for it to be whisked away, revealing — shock horror! — her legs.
Rippon, who had studied ballet as a child, astonished the world with the high-kick that followed. Now aged 78, she again astonished the world, with another high kick: one that seemed to go on several degrees past the point where most people’s legs stop bending even in the prime of life.
I’m not sure what the rather slicker and glitzier American Dancing With The Stars would make of a 78-year-old in sequins doing the splits live on Strictly Come Dancing, let alone the magnificently lumpen dad-dancing on display from newsreader Krishnan Guru-Murthy and veteran presenter Les Dennis. Certainly, Tucker Carlson’s cheerfully amateur cha-cha in series 3 of DWTS didn’t get nearly as forgiving a reception from the judges as Dennis’ gawky tango last week.
But if there’s one thing the British are good at, it’s exporting formats that get adopted internationally with local variations. Arguably our most successful ones in that sense are common law, and perhaps the business suit — but Strictly is surely up there as well. There are versions of the show in more than 75 countries, and they garner millions of viewers every year.
When a nation is so talented at white-labelling its own culture for overseas propagation, can it be said still to have a culture at all? The popular answer, among Britain’s contemporary elite, is “no”, quite the opposite: Britain, and England in particular, is believed not to possess a tradition or sensibility of its own. Rather, all our ostensibly native traditions, foods and saints originate elsewhere, while our monarchy is German. There’s a whole genre of social-media post dedicated to such assertions — shared, especially on St George’s Day, as a kind of national anti-ritual of self-effacement.
But a distinctive British sensibility does in fact exist, and has done for a very long time. It’s not clipped vowels and big houses: it’s a blend of singalong, smut, spectacle and sentiment, discernible in popular entertainment all the way back to the fairgrounds of the 17th century and probably further yet. It elicited loud tutting from middle-class moral reformers in the Victorian age, and goes largely ignored by our own middle-class moral reformers. And yet the British version of Strictly is so well-loved because it captures that ancient sensibility, in note-perfect contemporary form.
[su_unherd_related fttitle="More from this author " author="Mary Harrington"]https://staging.unherd.com/2023/08/taylor-swifts-tragic-appeal/[/su_unherd_related]
Like snooker or Formula One, Strictly is for viewing with others. The pace is glacial, while every programme is highly structured. It’s ideal for half-watching while chatting or doing the ironing, then replaying at work on Monday. It’s not meant to be clever, different, innovative or ground-breaking. It’s meant to be for everyone.
And if each episode has a familiar formula, so too does each series. The overall effect is reassuring: some things never change. As Anton du Beke said last week: “The children back at school, the world is right again — Strictly is back on the telly!”
But if the show itself is an institution, the tradition from which it emerges is older still. In the 17th century, London’s fairs were not just about buying and selling. Events such as Bartholomew Fair were also sources of entertainment for all social classes. They combined trade with puppetry, performing animals, and shows that mixed vocal music with acrobatic spectacle such as rope-dancing.
As Britain industrialised in the 18th century, such seasonal events gave way to more permanent venues for commerce. And as the country grew wealthier, the booming urban population also demanded permanent facilities for commercial leisure. The style of entertainment that once frequented fairgrounds migrated to the “song and supper rooms” that grew out of pubs and coffee houses, and to urban pleasure gardens. These attracted working and lower middle-class people, often (but not always) men. Often a tough crowd, they would pelt disappointing performers with food, bottles, boots, or even dead animals.
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But by the 19th century, music-halls were being purpose-built, with the stage front and centre, and bar facilities withdrawn to a “promenade” behind the seating. Canterbury Music Hall in Lambeth was rebuilt in 1855 to house an audience of 1,500. By the mid-19th century, then, London had between 200 and 300 such venues, where the sexes rubbed shoulders and prostitutes prowled.
This music-hall mix of smutty acts, flirting opportunities, and ladies for hire made such venues a target for moral reformers, who warned of the licentiousness and “demoralisation” they encouraged. Of particular offence were the “tableaux vivants”, live-action re-makes of famous artworks that used a sometimes-tenuous link to high art as an excuse to show off women wearing only a thin, flesh-toned layer to simulate nudity. Despite reformers’ efforts, though, the music hall thrived until the First World War — after which it gradually foundered in the new post-war age of jazz and moving pictures.
And yet the British are often reluctant to throw away something that works. So, variety adapted, embracing both jazz and the moving image, and becoming the “light entertainment” that formed the backbone of mid-century British television. From the bouffant naffness of Cilla Black and Terry Wogan, through easy-listening flautists and Children In Need and ballroom dancing (hosted by Angela Rippon, of course), to Des O’Connor and brass bands and syrupy children’s choirs and the time-honoured British tradition of the novelty Christmas Number One, Britain’s enduring love of variety entertainment has not wavered. Our heritage may be marketed overseas as laced corsets and emotional constipation, but Britain’s real heartbeat is Military Wives and singalong choruses, innuendo and “Grandma, We Love You”.
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So much so that St Winifred’s School Choir — the originators of "There’s No one Quite Like Grandma" — got back together, 38 years later, for a Christmas show in 2018. Innuendo has hardly disappeared, either, since Victorian times. In 1895, erotic magazine The Mascot described a music-hall chorus girl in distinctly horny tones:
With gesture trim she throws her limb Out from her hip elastic And for a fact, it’s not exact -ly what you’d call Monastic
This is much the same mix of humour, understatement, and innuendo that greeted Angela Rippon’s leg reveal in 1976 — and its reprise in 2023. For Strictly today continues the tradition: a bit too much leg, and slightly too clingy clothing, and a bit too much pelvic action, but with a side order of muffled giggling that means you can watch it all with your nan. It’s a testament to the enduring hold this mixture has on the national soul that it has survived not one but two revolutions in format: first the post-war transition to telly, and subsequently our arrival in the digital age. If anything, the smartphone era has intensified variety’s interactive, music-hall energy. Strictly pre-dated the first iPhone by only four years, and has leaned hard into the appetite the new medium has generated for 360-degree, access-all-areas content. Today, the Strictly fandom generates a well of tabloid gossip, montages, reviews, behind-the-scenes clips, interviews, spats. Secondary content extends the central dance-show material more or less as far as you’re willing to scroll. And at the heart of it all, the vibe is much the same as ever. A bit horny, but playful with it; a bit glitzy, but with a hint of irony. And always, at heart, deeply sentimental: for the subset of Britons who dabbed their eye to "There’s No One Quite Like Grandma" has always been far more numerous than the subset who cringed and covered their ears. One of this year’s contestants, Bobby Brazier, has already revealed his desire to dedicate a dance number to his mum, the late reality TV star Jade Goody — a move that places him squarely in this pleasantly lachrymose tradition. And thus, perhaps by accident, the overall Strictly vibe is considerably more conservative than the often painfully progressive BBC that produces it. But this is true in a Burkean way that’s also British, in the best sense: pragmatic, demotic, and driven less by principles than a reluctance to change something that’s working just fine. [su_unherd_related fttitle="More from this author" author="Mary Harrington"]https://staging.unherd.com/2022/02/the-abject-failure-of-cool-britannia/[/su_unherd_related] The structure of each show honours the beauty of ritual and repetition, while Strictly itself honours the longstanding continuity of popular entertainment itself. It has updated the format a little, in line with the country’s shifting demographic makeup and social attitudes, and perhaps the result paints an over-optimistic picture of how comfortable the culture is with these changes — or indeed how well Britain is flourishing overall today. But it’s not meant to be gritty realism. In any case, such nods to the 21st century feel like minor adjustments, not radical cultural surgery. For both audience and contestants are, broadly speaking, unchanged: alternately sentimental and smutty, glitter-loving but gently ironic, tribal yet adaptable, and generous about cheering on the dad-dancing underdog. Our moral betters may view this Britain as irredeemably wicked, or else — as when the Strictly format is sold overseas — as a translucent medium in which other cultures may be foregrounded. But away from the cultural cringe typical of the over-educated, Britain is still there. As showcased in Strictly’s 21st-century music hall, we’re much the same people as we have been for centuries.
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SubscribeI often think we lost something as a culture when ballroom dancing went out of fashion in the 1960s. Young men struggle (or at least they did in my day) to make the first move with women. Having a formal routine of asking them to dance seems like a great solution. Women, as we know, love dancing and a partner with mediocre looks but good feet stood a reasonable chance in the mating game. And close dancing allows intimacy without “full contact” which I think is probably a valuable way for young people to get to know each other.
I have often wondered if the BBC couldn’t sponsor dance lessons for schools under the Strictly brand to reteach these lost skills and prompt a renaissance on the dancefloors of Britain.
I’m not the over-educated British-culture-denying type referred to here, but I cannot abide this programme. It’s drivel.
I’d rather go to the music hall, they sound great!
For me it’s enjoyable drivel but I can’t bear the “I’m doing this for my dead mother/father/sister/auntie/grandad/cat”. The very definition of mawkishness.
This show has actually been the first British TV example of pronounced woke. There have been increasing variations on same-sex couples, a high minority quotient, disabilities and a dwarf celebrity dancer (who’s not Peter Dinklage).
Perhaps this is just traditional British PC in reaction to the era of Angela Rippon and dodgy sitcoms i.e. the 1970s. By and large, as a dancing competition it continues to be undemanding, jovial, musically illiterate and entirely sexless.
The shagging goes on elsewhere, I believe.
Maybe it’s turning into that 17th century fair mentioned in the article. A dwarf this year, next year a bearded ‘lady’, for want of a better description.
I realise that on UnHerd Mary Harrington can do no wrong – but what a load of drivel.
Beg to differ Caradog, the show is drivel but her article isn’t. As another over educated twãt, I can’t stand Strictly, but Mary’s view of it, that even as it bends the knee to woke sensibilities, it is nevertheless still underneath a slightly bawdy and quintessentially British phenomenon is spot on.
I especially like her comment:
“There’s a whole genre of social-media post dedicated to such assertions — shared, especially on St George’s Day, as a kind of national anti-ritual of self-effacement.”
Mary is producing some of the best and most perceptive journalism in the country right now, and with an elegant writing style that many could do with emulating. What’s not to celebrate, at least she’s not another hand wringing, self-hating ex Marxist like a few of the Unherd stable.
Indeed. I’ve just resubscribed at $2.00 for three months, and now I’m wondering if I paid too much.
Pedantry I know but Angela Rippon was a mere 32 when she appeared on Morecambe & Wise in 1976 and not 38.
Holiday camp entertainment: Brief theatrical dances padded out with oceans of gushing chat.
It can seriously claim to be one of the most traditional and one of the most inclusive shows on TV – and some are switching off because of the inclusion. That isn’t safe by any means.
Harrington hints at this in the bit about widening the demographic but doesn’t address the risk. You do not see Graham Norton cuddling up to another man on Prime Time. Ditto Sandi Toksvig et al with other women.
Yes, kitschy, yes sentimental etc. What ‘intellectuals’ never get is that there is high skill on display here, These dances are not easy and watching people improve, or at least, suck humour out of their limitations, is fun.
As for Matt m who suggested ballroom dancing in schools, all kinds of partner dancing are extremely popular in London and elsewhere for precisely the reasons you mention. It never went out of fashion per se but it goes on beneath the media radar.
Harrington’s near contempt for older people doing moves regarded as pleasure orientated or sexual is so English/British. In Spain no-one would be at all surprised by a high kicking septuagenarian. Women of that age go topless there all the time (fnnarr fnarr, missus!); it is a completely different attitude.
There is nothing inherently stupid about light entertainment. So called ‘serious’ media programmes are often more inane as Chris Morris pointed out.
Another distinguishing feature of ballroom and latin dancing is that the men are as sexualised as the women – you had Shirley and Motsi openly drooling at times. Perhaps this is what Harrington thinks is smutty.
The packaging may be schmaltzy but the skill is present . Last year, a guy who would never appear on the front cover of Men’s Health won. That has to be a good thing.
Until 2019, I loved Strictly and watched it religiously. Then I had to boycott it for three years to avoid the insanity of talk about “testing” and “distancing” and masking and jabbing. I believe it also tested the boundaries of wokery during this time. So I was thrilled to find, when I dipped my toe back in this year, that the REAL Strictly is BACK! Full of bawdy innuendo, sarcasm and unadulterated language. Loving it!
I tried watching the show last year. Not so much bawdy innuendo as slobbering, tear-jerking (and cynical) sentimentality. The supposedly witty Claudia Winkleman continually posing “How do you feel?” questions. Contestants family members brought in to add a (phony) warm-hearted glow. Mushy.
Then there was the strange phenoma of the studio audience breaking into a loud cheer everytime any of the dancers did a lift. Spontaneous? Always sounded faked to me.
Fair play Sats, at least you gave it a go. Impressed.
Give it another try this year. I think they are back on form
Perhaps I could try keeping count of how many times Winkleman asks: “How much would it mean to you to win the Glitterball Trophy?”
If the question ‘How do you feel?’ was outlawed most TV journalists would be at a loss. They would have to get proper jobs.
Especially all the blooming sports presenters!
The ubiquitous nature of that one question ‘How do you feel?’ is the perfect demonstration of the extraordinary level of progressive emotionalisation of the whole culture.
It appears basically illegal not to have a nicely framed emotional response to all aspects of public (and private) life – Very weird times we have wandered into there.
The delicate powerful balance between emotions and rationality is something we heed to claw back.
I record it so that I can scroll quickly through the bits that don’t interest or entertain me!
I watched it to keep a, now ex, girlfriend happy. Truly awful. The show not the girlfriend! I expect to get time off in purgatory for it. I also watched a whole series of Love Island so I would know whereof I spoke. I need to stop doing this. It rots the soul and destroys all belief in humanity.
Choreographed to death, every trace of spontaneity committeed out of it, everyone involved, audience included, playing their preprogrammed role, and every woke box ticked. The most simplistic formula the BBC can devise.
Is it terrible to admit that I find old ladies in minidresses difficult to watch ( to put it as mildly as possible)?
Britain shouldn’t brag about being responsible for giving the world DWTS and Survivor. They have contributed to the decline of western civilization.
BBC just needs to exercise the ‘Sackler Option’; develop it, sell it via a chain of subsidiaries, and deny all knowledge of it.
It’s good to see someone like Mary confirm that the GB of my childhood still hides there underneath the welter of grumbling headlines we see today.
The ‘Seaside Pier saucy postcard-ism’ of us Brits continues basically.
I must admit Strictly a bit of a guilty pleasure, although Author has helped reduce that guilt! She’s right about the communal watching experience. I can play the amateur expert to gleeful annoyance of wife and daughters, and it’s one of the few Programmes we watch together – and we used to have these communal experiences much more back in the day didn’t we.
Obviously Author couldn’t stop herself having a jab at the BBC. How on earth could such a Progressive Blob put on such a popular show!
But when I clicked on UnHerd this AM I thought maybe we’ll see this Author write something about the awful misogyny yesterday on GB News leading to two suspensions and death threats to the woman they were demeaning. Yet instead an article about Strictly. Strange.
Don’t be fooled by that drama. A couple actors (one, literally) playing their roles for the establishment in order to drum up support for more OfCom powers. Ditto Brand doing his bit to get everyone flag waving for the sinister “Online Harms” bill. These are dark times and the rot goes much deeper than a few loose-lipped TV presenters.
Yes I fear that AH and surprised MH doesn’t hit that issue a bit more head-on. However she has a ‘base’ and probably needs to balance what she can say on this sort of thing with regular ‘red meat’. Journalists got to eat like the right of us.
I think the idea of Unherd is to provide perspectives outside those of the herd.
The mainstream herd is in full stampede (no doubt correctly) over Dan. Unless Unherd wants to try to justify what appears to be unjustifiable, there is no rationale for an article.
Maybe but I’d genuinely be interested in MH’s thoughts on why and how are such opinions re-populating elements of our media. I concur the stampede to condemn, whilst needed and inevitable, doesn’t actually throw much light on why these Men think this ok. I often don’t agree with her main thesis in her Articles, but I always read them and usually they are thought provoking.
You read Unherd. Surely you know why “these men think it’s ok.”
It’s a push back by people who have felt unheard and disrespected for a long time. Just as the progressive pendulum has swung to extremes so will the backlash go well past an acceptable mid point.
There’s ‘push backs’ and there’s’ push backs’ MB. Pushing back on, say, EDI or positive discrimination, is v different from normalising abuse of women.
Quite, well said.
“Tory scum”
“It should have been battery acid.”
The people on both sides who indulge in this are a disgrace, but your question was “why are such opinions repopulating our media.”
I don’t condone or sympathise with it, but it isn’t hard to understand.
There was a more serious issue about Dan before, that UnHerd seemed to have a lot of trouble acknowledging.
This is obviously not the journal for you watson. You should move on to The Guardian, The New Statesman or Evgeny Lebedev’s Independent – I’m sure you’d be happier there. As things stand, with your Alistair Campbellesque spiel you come accross like one of those puritanical preachers who cannot resist hanging out with ‘the fallen’, the better to correct them in the error of their ways.
I do feel the ‘vocational pull’ Sats, and always replenished by the obvious attention you take.
I’m on Sat’s side but as put downs go, this is worth a small round of applause.