Seeing ‘Johnhannes’ on Strictly gives me the perfect Christmas glow

Both men have talked candidly about the impact they know this representation has, writes Katy Brand

John Whaite and Johannes Radebe have made the ‘Strictly’ final (BBC / Guy Levy)

The British electorate has made two excellent decisions in the past week or so. One was letting Boris Johnson know – at least for the people of north Shropshire – enough is enough, as they turned a seat that’s been true blue for 200 years to a lovely Lib Dem orange.

The other was ensuring that Strictly Come Dancing partners John Whaite and Johannes Radebe made it all the way to the show’s final this weekend.

To say both these marvellous events bring me joy is an understatement. But let me concentrate for a moment on the dancing, because that is always a more profound and eternal pleasure than obsessively trying to analyse the Mad Hatter’s Tea Party we currently call her majesty’s government on Twitter.

Yes, the entertainment higher ground here is occupied by Strictly Come Dancing’s first male-male couple. Last year brought us the more short-lived first female-female couple in Nicola Adams and Katya Jones, and very welcome it was too.

But due to a number of factors, some beyond the dancers’ control, they didn’t quite capture the imagination of the nation like John and Johannes have, or “Johnhannes” as they are affectionately known. You’re no one in British cultural life unless you have a nickname (like “Boris”, for example, although perhaps we can look forward to his steady slide back to “no one” rather sooner than we had dared hope).

But “Johnhannes” have made a beautiful pair. And in some ways, I feel very moved by their progress through the competition. When they started out, there was a sense of trepidation about how we, the viewing audience, would react. Yes, there will always be the fist-chompers who hate anything they’re a bit scared of, but setting that small but very noisy minority aside, it still felt like a test of the centre ground – the general population.

I have frequently found that there is a gap between what people say they think, or would like to think they think, and how they actually feel and react when confronted with the reality.

For example, lots of men say they love funny women; but many of those men also don’t like it when they meet a woman who is funnier than them in the pub. I have seen the resentment rise first-hand, many times, because I have a lot of very funny female friends.

So, what would really happen, was the worry, when these two guys gyrated together out onto the shiny studio floor for the first time? Would everyone freak out? Would they be voted out in round one? Would there be a big old dust-up right there on camera?

For years I assumed that only one woman was ever booked onto comedy panel shows because the producers were scared that if there were any more, our cycles would sync and we would all spontaneously start menstruating in the middle of the recording.

Perhaps the same applies here; that even the most progressive of men will be overwhelmed with a surfeit of testosterone and start throwing punches, much like what happens at an international football event nowadays – but with more sequins and less cider.

Well, as we all know, what actually happened was wonderful. John and Johannes brought strength, subtlety, sensuality and fun to every dance they performed. And over the course of the competition, it stopped looking a bit odd to the untrained eye and just began to feel right in every way.

And of course, the unspoken power of it, the non-verbal statement, week after week, has lent it a kind of gravity.

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Both men have talked candidly about the impact they know this representation has. Many commentators of all kinds have written that their lives – their childhoods – would have been a lot less lonely and confusing if they had seen but one couple like this on their prime-time TV screens.

It was quietly brave of John and Johannes to step out together, and I’m glad that bravery has been rewarded. The BBC is even reporting that interest in “same-sex” dancing is on the increase, which is a lovely legacy no matter who wins the glitterball.

I did Christmas Strictly back in 2012, and it was one of the warmest and most supportive experiences I have had, professionally speaking.

Its success is phenomenal, and it holds an important place in the cultural landscape of the UK. That they have used their platform to showcase “Johnhannes”, and that the viewers have responded with such utter positivity, gives me a glow warmer than Tess Daly’s spotlight. Bravo, everyone.