Strizzle Come Dizzle

(or Straight Outta Wood Lane)

'Alright, STOP, collaborate and LISTEN,

Ice is BACK with my brand new inVENTION.

SOMEthing grabs a hold of me tightly.

Oh, it's OK, it's just Zoe Lucker, aka Footballers' Wives superbitch Tanya Turner.'

Those aren't my words. They're the words of one-hit rap sensation Vanilla Ice. Or are they?

My work/life balance is shot at the moment. There is too much work and too much life and not enough time to watch telly, which is not the Miss Jones way at all. I am only just catching up with the opening weeks of Strictly Come Dancing. But one point that has been raised by my various sofa companions this series is that James Jordan's hair is now less Wolverine and more Vanilla Ice.

V to the anilla Ice, or Robert Matthew Van Winkle as his mother calls him, was the victim of considerable mockery in the early 90s when it emerged that some of his biographical information had been falsified, and he wasn't from The Ghetto, but in fact The Comfortable Suburbs. Vanilla Ice's response was, 'It ain't where you're from. It's where you're at.'

James Jordan is from Gillingham.

Anyway, it's now week two, and it seems that this season's Strictly is finding its feet. Alesha is a bit better, and who cares at all if she's totally scripted. I even loved Bruce on Friday when he said to Ricky Groves, 'How dare you adlib in my presence?' But there's some dramatic tension missing. I'm thinking they should ramp up the rivalry between the professionals a little (since to Strictly aficionados they are now as well known as the celebrities), creating the kind of beef that existed between the US East and West Coast rap scene, but with less murder.

There are hip-hop comparisons all over Strictly. Well, maybe there aren't, but I am going to make them anyway, as that is the business I'm in. It's not hard to see Anton du Beke as a Jay-Z figure. With his diversification into TV presenting, he's well on his way to becoming a media mogul. If, like Jay-Z, he chooses to create a clothing line, 'Bekawear' say, then I would applaud him, while probably not actually buying anything. And, more pertinently, he's got 99 problems ('Do people think I'm gay?' 'Should I wax my chest?' 'How will people react to me stepping into Dale Winton's shoes on Hole In The Wall?') but his celebrity dance partner (bitch is such an ugly word, don't you think?) ain't one. Leila Rouass is actually pretty good compared to his previous lurchers.

This Anton analogy – Antology – would make his professional dance partner Erin Boag Beyoncé Knowles. And while there is little physical comparison, they both possess a steely core of professionalism and determination that is impervious to flood, fire, famine, acts of God and nuclear attack.

Brendan Cole likes to create a story with his choreography. This is like Tone Loc on Funky Cold Medina, which is a great narrative where the eponymous love potion gets Tone Loc in all manner of amorous scrapes, including with Sheena, who turns out to be a man, and as a contestant on a TV dating show. Nowadays, of course, Brendan is all loved up and chivalrous and well behaved, but who remembers Badboy BrendanTM of times past appearing on Celebrity Love Island, also a TV dating show? OK, no one, but he was on it, I promise.

Lilia is Missy Elliott, both women doomed to work with people barely fit to sew on their sequins. Dominic Littlewood, Don Warrington and Richard Dunwoody for Lilia. Mel B and the Pussycat Dolls for Missy.

Brian Fortuna is Will Smith, the Fresh Prince of TV Centre - dazzling white teeth, terminally boyish, sent to live with his distant [Strictly] family in a place far from home, where a host of hilarious fish-out-of-water scenarios ensue, such as Brian saying 'gotten' instead of 'got', and 'mom' instead of 'mum', and 'awesome' instead of 'really good'.

Then there is Vincent. Somehow Vincent is a glorious epitome of Every Rapper - creator of ludicrous public personas, boaster of outlandish boasts, taunter of rivals, off-duty wearer of pastel knitwear and satin pyjamas, constructer of fanciful narratives about how many honeyz were in his jacuzzi last night when in truth he spent the evening phoning his mum, watching his DVD of The Notebook, and applying a deep-cleansing facial mask.

But who is Snoop Dogg? Who is Kelis? Who is Kanye? Who is Dre? These are all questions that will most likely never be answered over the rest of the series, as I think we all know I'll get distracted by something else, but this is Strictly Come Dancing. Anything could happen.

Peace out.