Yet again this dumpy woman who once got banned from Zumba was overlooked for Strictly – I can’t imagine why

It may still be August, but there’s that whiff of autumn in the air: Love Island has just days to go (my money’s on Millie), the supermarkets are full of back-to-school uniforms and they’ve just announced the cast list for Strictly Come Dancing 2021. By the time someone lifts that glitter ball, Christmas will be upon us and we can say goodbye to a very peculiar year.

Fifteen new celebrities have signed up for the queen of the BBC TV schedules and who can blame them? Strictly is the creme de la creme of reality shows. It’s the one everyone really wants to take part in, because not only will you lose the flab and get fit, but it’s the biggest career booster on the telly circuit. Case in point: Ann Widdecombe. Slathered in fake tan, frocked up in sequins and teamed with that nice Anton Du Beke, suddenly the country forgot her political leanings and for the duration of her time on the show she became funny, loveable, cuddly aunty Ann Widdecombe, rather than Ann Widdecombe, the woman who voted for female prisoners to give birth in handcuffs.

Every year, as the contestants’ names are drip fed daily to the media, those of us not on the list rue another year of lost opportunities and wobbly thighs. Why Gordon Ramsay’s daughter and not me?

I’ve done quite a lot of reality shows in my time, the biggest being, I’m a Celebrity... Get Me Out of Here!, back in 2010, when the pandemic was a B-list movie plot and a trip to Australia was reason enough to go. I’m a Celebrity is ITV’s jewel in the run-up to Christmas crown and offers a similarly nice bump-start to an ailing career. Thanks to coming third on the show, I got my first panto and a stint on Loose Women.

Then there was Splash, the diving show which encouraged people who had never dived before in their lives to throw themselves headfirst off a three-metre board. I’m not sure what that one did for my career, but I did get to train with Tom Daley so, you know, win-win.

I got thrown off Celebrity Masterchef in round one, having made a chicken dish which made Gregg Wallace pull a face like a toddler being force-fed pureed broccoli for the first time. For a moment I thought he was joking. He wasn’t, it was truly awful. As for Channel 4’s The Great Celebrity Bake Off for SU2C extravaganza, I won that and still have the pinny to prove it. It’s the biggest fluke of my career.

But Strictly is the holy grail. This is the one we all dream of, even if, like me, you can’t dance for tuppence. And when I say I can’t dance, I mean I can’t dance. I’m not one of those D-listers who turns out to have attended Miss Miggins’ Dance Academy for gifted toddlers from the age of three and had a brief stint with the Bolshoi back in the day. I genuinely mean I can’t dance. I don’t have any coordination and I struggle to even spell rhythm (Ha, spellcheck came good).

Sadly, this doesn’t mean to say I can’t throw myself around the dance floor. I’ve never had any inhibitions and, as a much younger woman, I used to dance on pop videos for money. I’ve got some moves, it’s just none of them make much sense and I can’t follow choreography to save my life. It’s this inability to follow instruction that’s my biggest problem. I once got banned from a Zumba class for causing a multi-person pile-up during which three pairs of varifocals and a cheese plant got broken. Oh yes, and I don’t understand what people mean when they say, “Count the beats”. What beats?

But none of this stops me dreaming. I was brought up with Pan’s People performing dance routines every Thursday night on Top of the Pops and the ultimate fantasy was to be part of the troupe.

Now, 45 years later, the idea of dancing on screen still thrills me, especially the new interpretive dance round, which in my opinion knocks the foxtrot into a top hat.

Ultimately, of course, what I really want is to be partnered with that young Giovanni. Just to see the look on his face when he realises that instead of being matched up with a lithe 22-year-old soap actress/ex-gymnast, he’s been lumbered with the dumpy 61-year-old woman, who has to wear glasses because she’s allergic to contact lenses. The one who’s in danger of re-finding her sexuality half-way through a cha-cha-cha in week three, before accidentally trampling all over him on national TV.

However, once again I don’t seem to have made the Strictly cut. Right up until the last minute, I was holding my breath just in case, but no, the last one to be announced was the similarly sized rugby player Ugo Monye. Oh well, there’s always next year. Roll on 2022.