Just got her Oct newsletter and this is what she said about her behind the scenes bit:
"THEN no sooner had the dust settled from that than we had to go back to UK for me to do Behind the Scenes at Strictly Come Dancing and this was particularly wonderful because Himself and myself got to go to the actual show for the first time. I will tell you something – EVERYONE on the show gets on so well. I was up close and personal and moving amongst them, filming stuff all day and really, it would be impossible to fake the level of good humour and camaraderie amongst the dancers and celebrities. I know some stinky papers try to make out that there’s loads of rivalry and bad feeling, but I saw none of it – the total opposite, mes amies, the total opposite! The night I was there, Lilia left which was awful and now I’m backing Christine because not only is she Irish but she’s delightful and a great dancer. Wait till I tell you though, I had the most terrible moment. After the day filming, I changed into a dress for the actual show. Now the dress is admittedly lowcut but I didn’t think that was a problem because I’m not well endowed in the knocker area, but I had never before worn this dress SITTING DOWN. For some reason I’d always been standing up and walking and that. But as I took my seat 30 seconds before the live show started, something to do with sitting down meant that the dress no longer hung on my shoulders but began sliding down my arms and I was within a fraction of having my nipples make an appearance. On live television! In front of 10 million people! It was way too late to change into something else and I was IN THE FRONT ROW practically ON the dance floor and sitting beside Mark Ramprakash, which made everything seem a lot more mortifying and mes amies, the HORROR. Time slowed down as I wondered how my nipples would be described in the media storm which would surely follow. Where they normal nipples? I thought they were but once you bring the magnifying glass of analysis to anything, surely you can find things to criticise? The only way for my shoulders and knockers to hold onto the dress was – bizarrely – if I clapped. So I clapped. A lot. Not just at moments when applause was appropriate but – and I never thought I would see the day – I clapped along to the music. And so, to provide moral support did poor Himself. Like a pair of anxious gobshites, we clapped and clapped and clapped. Then to add authenticity, in order for it to seem like we were the types who ordinarily clapped along to music, Himself began to tap his foot with gusto and – it took me only a moment to catch on – so did I. Then Himself tried out an experimental whoop and looked at me for confirmation – would we whoop? – but I decided no, no point drawing extra attention to us, so we didn’t pursue the whooping. I’m telling you we were ****ing EXHAUSTED at the end, mes amies, absolutely shattered, between the clapping and the foot-tapping and the small quantity of whooping, but I think we got away with it."
The woman is crazy
but i still love her 
"THEN no sooner had the dust settled from that than we had to go back to UK for me to do Behind the Scenes at Strictly Come Dancing and this was particularly wonderful because Himself and myself got to go to the actual show for the first time. I will tell you something – EVERYONE on the show gets on so well. I was up close and personal and moving amongst them, filming stuff all day and really, it would be impossible to fake the level of good humour and camaraderie amongst the dancers and celebrities. I know some stinky papers try to make out that there’s loads of rivalry and bad feeling, but I saw none of it – the total opposite, mes amies, the total opposite! The night I was there, Lilia left which was awful and now I’m backing Christine because not only is she Irish but she’s delightful and a great dancer. Wait till I tell you though, I had the most terrible moment. After the day filming, I changed into a dress for the actual show. Now the dress is admittedly lowcut but I didn’t think that was a problem because I’m not well endowed in the knocker area, but I had never before worn this dress SITTING DOWN. For some reason I’d always been standing up and walking and that. But as I took my seat 30 seconds before the live show started, something to do with sitting down meant that the dress no longer hung on my shoulders but began sliding down my arms and I was within a fraction of having my nipples make an appearance. On live television! In front of 10 million people! It was way too late to change into something else and I was IN THE FRONT ROW practically ON the dance floor and sitting beside Mark Ramprakash, which made everything seem a lot more mortifying and mes amies, the HORROR. Time slowed down as I wondered how my nipples would be described in the media storm which would surely follow. Where they normal nipples? I thought they were but once you bring the magnifying glass of analysis to anything, surely you can find things to criticise? The only way for my shoulders and knockers to hold onto the dress was – bizarrely – if I clapped. So I clapped. A lot. Not just at moments when applause was appropriate but – and I never thought I would see the day – I clapped along to the music. And so, to provide moral support did poor Himself. Like a pair of anxious gobshites, we clapped and clapped and clapped. Then to add authenticity, in order for it to seem like we were the types who ordinarily clapped along to music, Himself began to tap his foot with gusto and – it took me only a moment to catch on – so did I. Then Himself tried out an experimental whoop and looked at me for confirmation – would we whoop? – but I decided no, no point drawing extra attention to us, so we didn’t pursue the whooping. I’m telling you we were ****ing EXHAUSTED at the end, mes amies, absolutely shattered, between the clapping and the foot-tapping and the small quantity of whooping, but I think we got away with it."
The woman is crazy
but i still love her
How would clapping help? If the dress was falling down surely movement would have made things worse!
