Today, Anton is a judge, and you can still hear that same old warmth in his critiques. He’ll tell a couple they were “absolutely fabulous, darling,” even if they missed a step. But when I think about his Strictly partners, I don’t remember the scores or the eliminations. I remember Ann doing a waltz with a broom, Katie crying with joy after a perfect foxtrot, and Rose lifting the trophy with a silent, fierce smile.
That’s the thing about Anton: his partners aren’t just footnotes in a dance competition. They’re the heart of his story, each one a step toward the man we see today—who wears a tux like he owns it, but also knows how to make a amateur feel like a star.
So next time you watch Strictly and see a pro dancing with a nervous contestant, remember Anton. He taught us all that sometimes, the best partnerships aren’t about winning—they’re about showing up with a smile, a waltz hold, and the knowledge that even a bad dance can be a great memory.
(And if anyone says Anton was just “the joke partner dancer,” politely remind them that he has a Glitterball Trophy at home. Yes, the same one. I dare you to argue with that.)
