Let’s Vote for John Sergeant!

You City folk are too cool to admit to watching Strictly Come Dancing, but I know you secretly do. In between Saturday afternoon's shopping trip and Saturday evening's party, you press record on SkyPlus, and watch the show quietly on Sunday morning when everybody else is sleeping off their hangovers.

Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.

My articles are usually about sport, so why write about dear, old, cuddly John Sergeant? Because the greatest sport at the moment is not seeing Andy Murray defeating Federer in Shanghai, it is not the Autumn rugby internationals, it is not even seeing Lewis Hamilton winning the Formula One World Championship. No, it is watching the ranks of the English middle-aged vent their indignation that somebody like Mr Sergeant, who is to dancing what Gordon Brown is to male modelling (or what Jonathan Ross is to telephone diplomacy), can take the competition by storm.

The judges are simply itching it get him out. And they might get their way and back their furious indignation at this murder of traditional dance steps with the traditional vote-off. The dancing purists can’t wait to see John’s come-uppance. After all, he has the cheek to be invited into the competition, dance badly, smile benignly at the camera as he steps on his partner’s toes, and make self-deprecating jokes in the post-dance interviews. Anybody would think he had punched Bruce Forsyth (surely to be Sir Bruce at some stage), judging by the public reaction to his ongoing success in the competition.

With England about to lose against the world’s top rugby teams, with the tennis season almost over, the golf season over (and starting again the next week!), and Spurs seemingly out of their early season slump, the only sport worth watching is the twitching of middle-aged, middle England at John’s continued success in the competition. So vote for John, at least until we are down to the real winners - Austin Healey and Tom Chambers. Then continue voting and enjoy watching Tunbridge Wells shaking with indignation.

Oh, and please, Your Majesty, give Brucie that knighthood soon. It can’t be received posthumously.