WHAT do Strictly Come Dancing and Charlotte Dujardin have in common?
Besides the fact the latter would make an excellent pro on Strictly — whipping those preening celebs into action would be, well, horseplay compared to reported rehearsal room training methods — both have been undone by covert recordings.
Footage of one of Britain’s most decorated Olympians cruelly whipping her steed rightly went viral and led to her withdrawing from Paris before she was pushed.
Other riders apparently fear being similarly undone.
And after 20 years of false bonhomie and “family feelgood” entertainment, the facade of Strictly has come crashing down thanks to secret tapes.
Because in a deeply toxic, Kafkaesque scenario, it turns out celebs and pros have been privately filming one another in a bid to safeguard their reputations, their futures and, perhaps, their very sanity.
After Amanda Abbington formally complained to the BBC about partner Giovanni Pernice’s “abusive” behaviour, the Sicilian, it transpires, has handed over to investigators a clandestine voice memo recording of his own — one taken without his partner’s knowledge but one which goes against much of what she has said about him publicly.
He believes it will exonerate him.
Similarly footage of Zara McDermott's horrifying sounding training with pro Graziano Di Prima is what got him the axe.
Without that footage, which reportedly made investigators weep, he would still be on the show.
The whole thing makes for deeply uncomfortable reading.
Covert recordings in the workplace are a grey area HR-wise. But in the case of gross misconduct claims they are generally considered acceptable forms of proof.
More and more, colleagues are turning on one another — filming, screenshotting and memorising every rogue or errant comment.
Which is as much Big Brother as it is Big Bother, because where do we draw the line between office bants and a P45?
Last week’s Manchester airport drama is another example of where leaked video can be dangerously misleading.
Clips of a police officer kicking and stamping on the head of a lying down man went viral, apparently demonstrating yet more police brutality at a time when public confidence in police is at an all- time low.
The footage sparked a protest outside Rochdale police station, where hundreds of people gathered and chants of “shame on you” were heard.
Yet over the weekend fresh footage of the brawl emerged — this time of the build-up and showing the officers being punched and attacked before they retaliated.
Andy Burnham, the Mayor of Greater Manchester, has urged people “not to rush to judgment”.
But that is the problem with today’s world; one where everyone is a walking CCTV machine or/and private detective.
Not only can we not say or do anything without fear of being caught on camera — like a massively unfunny You’ve Been Framed — we are all only a clip away from cancellation.
Tech means we are all walking on egg-shells. One screenshotted “gag” and it’s curtains. One bad-choice fancy dress party clip and it’s social Siberia.
Short of all going around with mini cameras on our heads, like little off-road Jeremy Vines, what is the solution?
Charlotte Dujardin has had her last waltz and Strictly is cha-cha-changed for ever.
Which, in the light of what we have discovered, is perhaps no bad thing.
But not even author George Orwell could have predicted this dystopian nightmare.
LOTS to go at from Friday night’s sodden Olympic Games Opening Ceremony.
I mean, where to start?
The drag queen reinterpretation of The Last Supper?
A performer apparently with his testicle* hanging out?
Or the drenched Prime Minister, clad in a Team GB jacket, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else on planet Earth?
But no, for me the highlight was seeing trouper Serena Williams wobbling about on a speedboat careering down the Seine, seemingly on the verge of a giant chunder.
Or, as BBC commentator Andrew Cotter wryly noted: “Almost lost Serena there.”
FIGURES published last week show that 50 out of 119 jails in England and Wales are of “concern” or “serious concern”.
And of the 79,000 offenders released from custody of given a non-custodial sentence, around 21,000 went on to reoffend within a year.
Erm. Is it any wonder?
Jails today seem to be a veritable hotbed of shagging, drink and drugs – beach club vibez behind (iron) bars.
Prisoners – many armed with smuggled smartphones – are on TikTok filming pneumatic female guards having sex with inmates by the week, it seems.
So Labour’s Great Plan – to release thousands of prisoners early from September to ease overcrowding – seems doomed.
What incentive is there to rehabilitate on the outside when the inside is like a Club 18-30?
SO Rod Stewart, 80 next year, is gearing up to headline a string of sold-out shows in Las Vegas.
He’s a force to be reckoned with, and one of the nicest blokes in showbiz.
But let’s recap his first solo recording, shall we: Good Morning Little Schoolgirl. (A cover of a 1937 blues track.)
Lyrics include: “Good morning little schoolgirl/ Can I come home with you?
“Tell your mama and your papa/I once was a schoolboy too.”
Just IMAGINE a would-be singer-songwriter releasing this creepy little number today.
LOOKS like it’s game over for poor Kamala Harris.
Political commentator du jour Kerry Katona has only come out and endorsed Donald Trump.
“I know it’s controversial, but I really like him,” the Atomic Kitten mused.
“I don’t agree with everything he says but I do like him for the most part.”
Granted, she may not single-handedly get him re-elected but she could, at least, make his ear Whole Again.
AMANDA ABBINGTON gave two highly charged TV interviews last week in which she detailed the extent of the horrific trolling she has endured since quitting Strictly.
Some of it involved death and rape threats to her kids.
What runs through a troll’s tiny, swamp donkey mind when it decides to troll?
How deeply small, tragic, pathetic and miserable their off-keyboard existence must be.
Which, hopefully, will prove a crumb of comfort to Amanda.
IT’S official. I’ve started using my phone like an old person.
Tap tap tapping away on the screen with my index finger and thumb – and giving myself the ick hourly.
Turns out I have mild-to-middling repetitive strain injury, the result of chronic overuse of my iPhone.
Glued to my hand like a third plasticky appendage, it was only ever a matter of time.
