‘Christmas is cancelled – boring line-up means this year's Strictly has lost its sparkle’

Normally deeply invested by the BBC's annual glittering ballroom competition and all its intrigue by this stage, Mirror columnist Polly Hudson says the magic is missing with this year's line-up of very ordinary contestants

There used to be three things of which we could be certain: death, taxes, and Strictly providing a guaranteed unmissable, exciting, cosy route to Christmas. But this time round, something’s wrong.

Asking with an extremely heavy heart – is it just me or is Strictly lacking its sparkle this year? Ploughing through it has so far has felt like a chore, a punishment, rather than the pure, much anticipated joy it usually is.

This has nothing to do with the allegations, the scandal – none of that has been addressed on screen, and my main viewing companions have been little kids, who weren’t aware of it anyway. It’s a bigger problem than that, unfortunately.

The show is missing some crucial element you can’t quite put your finger on. It feels empty, soulless, like everyone’s just going through the motions. The magic isn’t happening.

Of course all casts can’t be incredible, and we were spoiled last year. Bobby Brazier, Layton Williams and Ellie Leach were all talented contestants we could happily root for, and there was also the life-affirming healing journey of recently widowed Annabel Croft, in the gentle hands of Johannes Radebe.

But normally even if you’re a bit nonplussed when the line-up’s announced, there’s someone who unexpectedly steals your heart. This year? I mean, blind Chris McCausland is obviously very impressive, but beyond that? Meh. They’re all so… normal.

Even the bad dances are boring. Think back to Anne Widdecombe being dragged along the floor by Anton DuBeke, Ed Balls’ Gangnam Style, Russell Grant being fired out of a cannon. Paul Merson isn’t even in the same football park.

Where are the surprises, like Bill Bailey being a brilliant dancer against all odds, Angela Rippon’s leg going up that high?

Where are the moments that provide genuine happiness, like seeing celebrity superfan Clara Amfo having the time of her life, Seann Walsh having to come back and dance with his tail between his legs and getting his comeuppance, Rose Ayling Ellis gracefully defying expectations?

This time there’s no one to care about. No-one to love, no-one to hate. And yes, it’s just a TV show but actually this really matters.

Strictly is one of the times the country feels united. It’s tradition. It’s family viewing no-one is watching through gritted teeth. It’s getting together with friends for watch parties, bringing home-made voting paddles and cupcakes that have “Bobby Brazier” on them in barely legible icing because it turns out icing is really hard to do.

It’s an increasingly rare occurrence: old-fashioned, genuine event TV. A glittering highlight of every week in the coldest, darkest months of the year.

Not being bothered about Strictly feels like a loss, like something precious has been stolen from us. As though Christmas has been cancelled, or you’ve arrived on holiday to find the hotel not yet built. When Strictly triumphs, we all do. And when it doesn’t, it’s hard not to feel as much of a loser as whoever that bloke was who got voted out first.