Just happened to catch (lie. My significant other strong-armed me into watching (lie. I was happy to watch it)) the beginning of one of ITV's most recent shameless bandwagon-jumping exercises - Dancing on Ice - where various B-list soap actors, has-been pop stars and faintly-embarassed sportsmen are hauled forth from the Gladiator pit in which I'm convinced they keep these people, in order to dance... on ice. A sensation, as you can imagine.
Anyway, the opening of this weeks fiasco was a performance by Take That accompanied by Torville and Dean ice dancing around them. I think it was the point at which Mark Owen stood on top of Gary Barlow's white piano alongside Jane Torville, while Jason Orange and Christopher Dean sunk to their knees and gripped each other's hands emphatically that I realised that this was the gayest spectacle ever to not include Liza Minelli or Elton John. Another plaudit to hang on the broad creative shoulders of ITV.
In all honesty, if more TV had this sense of cheeky glamour - we'd all be richer for it.
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Theatre, culture, the arts and other words liable to upset your parents when used in the context of your career.
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