His catchphrases have gone down in Strictly Come Dancing history, and few fans will ever hear the word “seven” without it being in Len Goodman’s voice.
Here in this final part of our exclusive extracts from his autobiography, Better Late Than Never: From Barrow Boy to Ballroom, he looks back on his days on the show that changed everything.
Sixty years old and I get “discovered”; well, I get a job on the television. The first ever Strictly Come Dancing was scheduled for May 15, 2004.
From the outset I had a problem, one that reoccurred: there were one or two celebs I’ve heard of, but there’s usually more who I wouldn’t know from Adam – soap stars in particular, because when they’re on TV I’m usually out teaching.
The eight celebrities on that first series were a mixed bag and need to be praised as they were the guinea pigs.
David Dickinson I’d heard of, Lesley Garrett I knew, likewise Martin Offiah, because I’m keen on sport, and I watch the news so I’d heard of Natasha Kaplinsky – the thinking man’s crumpet.
But Jason Wood, never heard of him, Claire Sweeney I don’t think I knew, Verona Joseph, no, and Christopher Parker from EastEnders I definitely didn’t know.
The most frustrating thing about the first series was the bloody clothes they dressed me in – serves me right for turning up as the eccentric Englishman in my tweeds for my first interview.
They asked me to try the suits they wanted me to wear. Because I was green I agreed, but I remember some of the things they put me in – strange colour combinations and styles – I looked like a bloody idiot. They made Bruno, Craig and I look too alike, by colour coding us – it wasn’t my scene at all.
Being the new boy I agreed, but once I got my foot under the judge’s table I said: “Enough, I want my own clothes.”
Not only did I feel like the new boy, I also felt like the odd one out amongst the “motley crew”, as I began to call us four judges. I’d vaguely heard of Arlene Phillips from Hot Gossip, but I hadn’t heard of Craig Revel Horwood or Bruno Tonioli. I found out that they all knew each other.
Bruno had appeared in a video for Elton John’s I’m Still Standing, shot in the South of France, which Arlene had choreographed.
Bruno was wearing Speedos and sunglasses and not much else. Craig has done many directing and choreography jobs in London’s West End. So the three of them were from the world of luvvies.
To begin with I wondered why the BBC hadn’t got four people from my world of dancing, but I soon realised they had got it right. But I still felt like the old fuddy-duddy ballroom expert amongst the showbiz crew.
Unusually for me I found myself getting nervous as the days ticked by. I contented myself by remembering what my dad always said to me: “Be yourself, don’t try and be what you’re not, don’t try and disguise who or what you are or where you come from.”
I think I’ve done well on that score; no one could accuse me of trying to posh myself up.
I suspect the BBC expected me to be fairly dry in my comments, but nobody’s telling me what to say: I just make it up as I go along – there’s no script. Instead of saying, “Your head should have formed a picture to the left as with your partner”, I come out with all my little sayings, which is the way I’ve always taught anyway. “It’s lovely rise and fall, up and down like a bride’s nightie”, or “You’re just like a trifle, fruity up the top but a little bit spongy down below”.
Jason Wood was probably the first one to be on the receiving end of one of my specials – “Wood by name, wood by nature”.
Apart from raising their profile one thing the show does for the celebrities is to get them very fit. In that first series Lesley Garrett lost virtually two stone, none too surprising when you consider she was dancing four or five hours a day, for five weeks, and stayed in until the next-to-last week.
Some people come to my dance classes for an hour’s tuition in air-conditioned luxury and cannot understand why they aren’t losing pounds and pounds; it helps to keep you fit, but not much more.
In the third series Darren Gough lost a lot of weight. I don’t suppose it did his cricket any harm either.
The first series was a novelty for me, but I also loved it because there was an eclectic mix of celebrities.
I got my “all sizzle, no sausage” into the first show. It’s an expression I’ve been using for years but people are forever throwing it back at me.
I’ve rarely said anything I regret about a celebrity’s dancing. I admire what they do so much, for having the guts to put themselves on the line. How many of us would risk making total fools of ourselves in front of the whole nation?
On the fifth series the BBC introduced a new system of judging so that the public were not the only ones to decide on who was in the dance-off each week.
It meant that we the judges had to make a choice between two celebrities.
It put much greater focus on us as the final arbiters, and me in particular as head judge, as I sometimes had to decide who stayed. I felt terrible when Penny Lancaster and Gabby Logan were in the bottom two, somewhere neither of them should have been. Kenny Logan, yes, almost any week, but not his missus.
I say to people, judging is like eating Brussels sprouts; I like Brussels sprouts, maybe you don’t. You’re not wrong, it’s your taste... You’ve all heard the expression “I could have danced for joy”. When I watch the celebrities and the professionals on the show I see their joy; like you, I get great joy from watching them.
But I get just as much joy from watching kids and adults at my little dance school. If I could have my life over again what would I change? Nuffink!
There’s been lows, but without them there would be no highs. It’s like the waltz: we need a bit of rise and fall. I’ve been far luckier than most because there’s been a lot more rise than fall.
