Into the windy night Middle Scotland swept, adrift on a sea of glitter. To make a stage show that is essentially a blatant rip-off of the hit BBC show Strictly Come Dancing takes a special kind of cheek. To ask the audience to text their choice of winner, even with a percentage of call charges going to Children In Need, is even cheekier. But did Glasgow care? Hell, no.

They wanted to see Louisa Lytton, in tiny sherbet-green shimmering dress, shake her hips as if she was about to take off. They wanted to see the hopeless Christopher Parker run, not dance, around the floor — the British find this lack of skill and prowess endearing. The scoring system is a mystery and why the audience is given scorecards baffling.

But who cares? All they want to see is the judges get really mean. There is no Bruno Tonioli. He is apparently in Los Angeles. But we’ve got Craig Revel Horwood and the ever-hormonal Arlene Phillips. Len Goodman is the crowd favourite, but distinguishes himself on this first night with a battalion of “bloodys” and unpleasant insults: Arlene is a “cow” and he also wanted to defecate on Craig’s head.

Of course, this is pantomime on television and it is pantomime on an even grander scale on stage. Brucie and Tess are absent. Presenting duties are carried out by Kate Thornton who, despite the bile she habitually attracts, is warm, amiable and funny. The competitors come from all series of SCD. The dance floor is huge, and a vast glitter ball sends up bubbles of light. The lady behind me said: “It was just like being on television.”

The crowd clapped rapturously throughout, although the competitors didn’t really deserve it. They range from the proficient and boring (Denise Lewis, the runner; Martin Offiah, the ex-rugby player), who get polite hand claps, to the terrible class clown (Christopher Parker), whom Craig dismissed as “awful” and “dreadful”. Why humiliate yourself, either by being dull or inept for a month-long national tour? Readies, one supposes.

The crowd loved Letitia Dean, who attacked each flick and kick with lip-smacking enthusiasm, and Zoe Ball, whose foot snagged in her frock.

This first evening really belonged to Matt Di Angelo and Flavia Cacace, the eventual winners. Are they together? The audience audibly gossiped as they took to the floor. What was the deal with Vincent Simone, Flavia’s professional dance partner and supposedly ex-partner, who is also in the show? All this bubbled away in the audience’s mind and added to the confected intrigue on stage. At the end, Di Angelo lifted the glitter ball trophy and tried to raise Flavia at the same time but wasn’t strong enough. Somehow that hint of “not-quite-good-enough”, which made him lose to Alesha Dixon in this year’s final, also encapsulates the vainglorious, shimmering amateurism which makes Strictly succeed on stage, as well as in prime time. Fun? Rubbish? Pantomime? A blatant attempt to extend the franchise? Yes, and we love it that way.

For tickets and tour details, strictlycomedancinglive.com

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