MoL is so sad these days that it has become a fan of Strictly Come Dancing. It likes the big spangly glitter balls, the silly costumes, the senile presenter, the show-off judges. Strictly Come Dancing is the Alpha Course set to music. Life-changing, life-affirming, touchy-feely, dance your way to happiness. It bursts with positive thinking, endless enthusiasm, driven by a relentless work ethic. It doesn’t come easy. Lick ’em into shape. Take one celeb (of whom you have never heard) and team with a professional dancer. Cha-cha-cha, rumba, tap, jive, waltz, quickstep. MoL once had dancing lessons and was scarred for life. These people learn to dance in front of millions. The reason why they aren’t all fucking like rabbits, given dance as a surrogate for sex, must be because the male professionals are all gay or they have chaperones because the BBC can’t afford any more scandals. MoL is thinking of inviting auditions for its porno channel programme Strictly Come Fucking.