Dancing on Ice has come to an end. Former X Factor and West End star Ray Quinn has taken home the final trophy, and that’s the end of that.
Celebrities can finally admit they enjoy a bit of ice skating at Christmas without fear they’ll be whipped up by Jayne Torvill and Christopher Dean and forced to wear sequins. The rink is no doubt being melted down. The dry ice machine put into storage. The Bolero jackets tossed to one side…
So in honour of the end of the nine year run of the series, here are five things I’ll miss about the show.
The awkward stair run
At the start of each episode of Dancing on Ice, hosts Phillip Schofield and Christine Bleakley popped out on the balcony for a quick wave, only to scuttle down the stairs in a race against the intro music to actually say hello. Seemingly pointless, but altogether amusing. Especially as Christine had to cling to Phil in an effort not to go base over apex without actually being anywhere near the ice.
The judging feud
Judge Ashley Roberts has basically spent the last two series acting as a human barrier between feuding pair Karen Barber and the acid-tongued Jason Gardiner. Oh, there’s been so much rolling of the eyes. So much attitude, so much dramatic head flicking. And could that be a sarcastic you’ve-finally-come-round-to-my-way-of-thinking head tilt during this ‘friendly’ high five Jason..?
The Toddy Carty element
No matter how good the skaters were, there was always the chance someone would do some a ‘Todd Carty’ – ie. something silly or dangerous. Don’t get me wrong, I’m looking for broken bones here – but Carty flying off the ice in 2009, Sinitta slicing her skate just shy of her partner’s nether regions in 2010 and Pamela Anderson’s boob popping out mid-performance in 2013 kept the entertainment, er, light.
The seemingly made up ice-skating moves
I’m no ice skating expert, so the names of the skaters’ moves were no doubt completely legit. Sure there were crossovers, pull-throughs and arabesques to critique. But a ‘hello dolly’ lift, ‘Mohawk steps’ and the ‘elevated hoover’ spin..? Who let Alan Partridge in?
The sequin industry is bound to be shedding a tear or two this morning. Gone are the days of trussing up footballers in tiny pink spandex glittery shirts. There’ll be no more rugby players to give a sparkly makeover and no more Joe Pasquale to squeeze into a hot pink (probably) jockstrap…. Sundays will never be the same again.