Dancing, Datsuns, and Democracy

For many years I was a faithful viewer of Strictly Come Dancing. From around Series 4 until just after Covid, it was a Saturday-night ritual. Over time, though, my enthusiasm waned. Possibly age. Possibly lifestyle. Possibly the discovery that sequins, like novelty, have a shelf life. I tried to introduce Brayden to it last year. This was met with the polite bafflement normally reserved for explaining landlines. This year, however, I had a reason to watch. A close friend of mine, Lewis Cope — recently of Emmerdale and of many years’ friendship — was drafted in at the last minute. Let’s be clear: Lewis is not a trained dancer. Yes, he played Michael in Billy Elliot at eleven. Yes, he once danced in a tap show. But then he did what actors do: he went to drama school. On Strictly, of course, anyone who can distinguish left from right is accused of an unfair advantage. The truth is it’s no longer really a dance competition. It’s a popularity poll with lifts. Lewis was theatrical, charismatic, skilled, and completely watchable. This week, though, he fell at that familiar hurdle: the public vote. A shame — but it doesn’t diminish the achievement. People got to see exactly what a generous, talented human being he is, and that matters more than a glitterball. Talking of conviction… My partner is currently organising another Venga World car show. Over the past year there have been brilliant events — Shoreditch, Monster HQ, Goodwood — all bringing together people united by a love of cars. A Porsche to a Peugeot. A Datsun to a Daimler. A Lexus to, in our case, another Lexus. If Venga World were subject to a public vote, it would win hands down. Mercifully, it isn’t — because nothing kills a good idea faster than asking twelve people to improve it. It works because Brayden makes the decisions himself. He takes the risks, does the hard work, and — unfashionably — sticks to what he believes in. No committee. No endless consultation. No watering-down in the name of consensus. Venga World knows exactly what it is. It’s free, it’s open, and it’s for anyone — provided you’re not planning wheelies, burnouts, or a focus group. Which, in itself, tells you everything you need to know. I’ve long believed the only committee that reliably works is a committee of one. Feedback is useful, but it is not a referendum. You can’t please all the people all the time — and history has provided us with several expensive reminders of that. So here’s the Christmas thought. Trust your judgement. Trust your skills. If you have a good idea, pursue it and stand by it. If it fails, take responsibility. If it succeeds, take the applause — briefly — and then do something just as good again. Happy Christmas. Happy holidays. Happy whatever you’re celebrating. And here’s to a 2026 with more conviction, fewer committees — and fewer things put to a vote that never needed one in the first place.

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