Caitlin Moran: He should have stayed

Scream! This is all so exciting, isn’t it? John Sergeant, the former BBC chief political correspondent, has dramatically fallen on his sword in a prime-time ballroom dancing competition – words that I think we all wished we would be able to say, one day, yet never dared to believe we actually would.

Of course, it’s all amazing in so many ways – sequins, drama, resignations, Bruce Forsyth looking confused in the middle of it all – that working out what you actually think about him leaving is almost nugatory.

The important thing is that a very silly thing has happened in an otherwise depressing week – and one that allows us all to use the words “paso doble” a great deal, which can only be to the good.

Ultimately, I believe Sergeant should not have left. Why was he forced to leave? Because the four judges on the show kept picking on him for bringing dance into disrepute. Well, I’m sorry, dearies, but you’re on a show where Willie Thorne has done the samba in a shirt slashed down to here. Any notion of the dignity of dance walked right out of that door a while ago and went straight to the nearest bar.

While the show does frequently showcase the beauty of the human body in motion (anyone who saw the rather beautiful Matt Di Angelo, that hot bloke from EastEnders, shaking his man-tits during the mambo could only agree), it is, primarily, a cheerful, gaudy entertainment show that people watch because there are celebrities on it being a bit cloddish. The show deliberately picks comedy entrants – Gary Rhodes, Jimmy Tarbuck, Gloria Hunniford, God bless her – because it makes great telly.

Sergeant’s continuing dance odyssey – last week, he danced like a gay Boris Yeltsin stamping out a fag – has been great telly. It’s going to be rubbish now he’s gone. All serious and technical and proper. Yawn.

If I had time – and/or worked for the Daily Mail – I would complain to Ofcom, quoting rule 2.1 and 2.2 of the code. These cover “protecting the public from harm”, ie, financial harm, for an audience that have been, now fruitlessly, voting all week for Sergeant; and “not materially misleading the audience”, ie, changing the nature of the competition, so that Arlene Philips getting hissy about footwork matters more than audience votes.

However, given that I’ve got £50 on Lisa Snowden to win, and her chances have materially improved now that Sergeant’s done a bunk, I’ll probably not bother.

But I must admit that I am now fearful for the emotional climate of this country. After all, the Saturday night viewing public are still reeling from the unexpected ejection of the favourite, Laura White, from The X Factor two weeks ago.

If, on top of this, Sergeant – the man to whom the public have devoted millions of phone votes – has to make a slow, sad, probably still quite arrhythmical walk into the sunset, they’ll go nuts. People are going to be pushing over policemen. They will be setting fire to bins.

Essentially, this has called the whole nature of democracy into question. And even more important than that, the whole nature of light entertainment.

Ruth Gledhill: He was right to step back

A decade ago ballroom dancing was deemed a sport and appeared close to inclusion in the Olympics. Now that dream has faded and, instead, this most graceful of musical arts has become a parody of itself on Strictly Come Dancing. John Sergeant is right to want nothing more to do with it.

Whatever happens now, the world of competitive “dancesport”, as it is known, will continue its endless waltz around the sprung maple halls of Britain and the world. But the future of televised competitions determined by public vote, including this one, now looks less certain.

After months of vote-fixing scandals, this unchoreographed finale represents the realisation by the viewers that they have the ability to “fix” a result. The same thing may happen again.

The BBC, seduced by the glitz and the success of its formula, needs to step back behind the tans and rhinestones and take a closer look at the nature of dancesport itself.

It is a fast-moving, hard-working, athletic, gruelling industry that thrives in countries such as Russia, the US, Japan, China and Germany, an industry where fortunes can be made by those prepared to put in the hours of practice, and where the ability to stay fit and be in time counts almost more than anything. In the real world of competitive dance, some of the professionals on Strictly would barely make it past the first round.

Sergeant is an intelligent, lovable cuddly man whose judgment on all manner of things is trusted by the viewing public. His willingness to make himself vulnerable by being among the majority of British men who cannot dance has only endeared him to us more.

The judges, on the other hand, with the possible exception of Len Goodman, are not lovable or cuddly. They might not even be particularly intelligent. We are told that they know how to dance, but for most of them, their dancing days are over and so we take this on trust. And they know how to be cruel. They know how to bully. They know how to turn a viewing audience against them. This debacle marks the audience’s revenge.

Although Sergeant might have hoped that he would learn to dance on the show, he could never have guessed that he would be on course to win it because he could not dance. He is right to leave because he could never receive true justice there.

The BBC needs a new set of judges, professionals such as Marcus Hilton and Chris Hawkins, world champions in their own right, dancers who still have the ability to demonstrate how it should be done, and who can speak the truth with respect, kindness and a smile.

Editor's choice

• U2 at Nou Camp Stadium, Barcelona
• The 50 Best Movie Villains
• The 15 golden rules of theatre etiquette