After the Tower Lights Go Down: Strictly’s Post-Blackpool Comedown Is Brutal — and 2026’s Biggest Crash Risk Isn’t Who You Think

Blackpool week is Strictly’s annual shot of pure glitter. The Tower Ballroom, the bigger floor, the extra dancers, the communal sense of occasion — it is the one night when the show feels less like a telly competition and more like a variety spectacular with a scoring paddles problem. And then it ends. The coach doors close, the sequins go back in the wardrobe, and everyone has to pretend that a Tuesday training session in a draughty studio is just as exciting.

It isn’t. The week after Blackpool is the cruelest stretch of the Strictly calendar, a strange limbo where couples who flew too close to the chandelier suddenly have to come back down to earth while the judges, the public and the running order all shift beneath them. This year, as the 2026 cast pick themselves up from the Tower, one pair is already showing the tell-tale signs of a post-Blackpool crash — and it is not the couple most fans would pick.

The Come-Down Is the Cost of the Come-Up

Blackpool is not just a bigger room. It is a bigger production. There are extra dancers to coordinate, camera blocking to learn, a longer journey, a tighter schedule and the small matter of performing in front of a crowd that has been on the lash since lunchtime. The adrenaline is enormous. The comedown is worse.

By the time couples reach the following week, they have had a monster high, a late night, a press cycle and a training week that always feels suspiciously short. Muscles that were running on pure Blackpool adrenaline start to complain. The choreography that felt epic in the Tower can look oddly exposed in the Elstree studio. And the judges, who have just handed out nines and tens like they were complimentary Blackpool rock, suddenly remember that they are paid to find fault.

This is where the Strictly public gets cruel without meaning to. A couple who topped the Blackpool leaderboard is no longer a plucky underdog. They are a frontrunner. They are expected to deliver. The vote that carried them through the early weeks now has to be earned again — and if the public has already decided someone else is the journey, the post-Blackpool week can turn very cold, very quickly.

Why the Tower Takes More Than It Gives

The physical toll is real. Blackpool rehearsals are longer, the floor is different, the spacing is different, and the extra bodies on stage mean more chances for a stray elbow or a mistimed lift. Couples often talk about the Tower as a bucket-list moment, but bucket-list moments are exhausting. You do not get a lie-in because you have danced under a giant chandelier.

Then there is the mental side. Blackpool is the week when the show leans hardest into nostalgia and scale. It makes everyone feel like a star. The following week, the production snaps back to normal, and the contrast can be jarring. A couple who had 14 extra dancers, a smoke machine and a standing ovation on Saturday is suddenly back in a studio with a prop they don’t trust and a song that sounded better in the planning meeting.

And let’s not forget the judges’ expectations. A 10 in Blackpool is not just a score. It is a receipt. Craig Revel Horwood’s praise, however grudging, becomes a benchmark. The following week, anything less than near-perfect can feel like a collapse, even if it is actually a perfectly respectable 32.

The History Lesson Nobody Wants on Their Mood Board

Strictly has long treated Blackpool as its spiritual home, and the show has been rewarded with some of its most memorable routines. But the week after the Tower has a habit of being a graveyard for momentum. We have seen couples produce a Blackpool moment so big that the following week feels like a tribute act. We have seen frontrunners land in the bottom two because the public assumed someone else was voting for them. And we have seen the judges suddenly rediscover their red pens after a weekend of generosity.

The pandemic years robbed us of Blackpool for a while, and since its return in 2022 the post-Tower comedown has only become more pronounced. The show now builds Blackpool up as the midpoint coronation. That is great telly. It is also a trap. The couple who peaks there has to find a second peak three months before the final, and the ones who have not paced themselves are the ones who wobble.

The 2026 Warning Lights: Cleo Bright and Marco Duarte

This year, the pair giving me post-Blackpool indigestion is Cleo Bright and Marco Duarte. On paper, they should be fine. Cleo is a breakfast-TV presenter with a gift for making a rumba face look like a thought rather than a trapped wind. Marco is a pro who knows how to build a routine around a partner rather than in front of her. Their Blackpool quickstep was a proper Tower moment — fast, frothy and finished with a lift that had the audience gasping into their Kiss Me Quick hats.

But look closer. The warning signs are all there.

First, the VT. Their Blackpool package was a tear-stained love letter to the journey, complete with a slow-motion shot of Cleo looking at the Tower like it owed her money. That is not just a training VT. That is a narrative peak. When a couple starts talking about the journey in the past tense before the final, the show is already writing their next chapter.

Second, the vote. Cleo and Marco have never been tested. They have sailed through on high scores and a likeable partnership, but they have not yet had the week where the public has to pick up the phone because the judges have left them in the danger zone. Post-Blackpool is exactly when that bill comes due. The audience gets complacent with frontrunners. Ask any couple who has topped the leaderboard in week eight and found themselves in the dance-off in week nine.

Third, the body language. In the training footage released after Blackpool, Marco is doing that thing pros do when they are managing an injury without wanting to say the word injury. He is marking steps. He is rubbing a hamstring. Cleo is nodding at notes with the slightly glassy expression of someone who has not slept properly since Thursday. They have a rumba coming up, which is the dance equivalent of being asked to do a sponsored silence in a room full of smoke alarms. It exposes everything: lines, hip action, emotional connection, and the ability to look like you are not counting under your breath.

Fourth, the running order. They were the penultimate act in Blackpool. That is prime position. Next week, they will probably be asked to open, or close, or sit in the death slot after a comedy Charleston. The show loves to test a couple after a big high. If Cleo and Marco get a quieter slot and a difficult dance, the contrast could be brutal.

What a Safe Week After Blackpool Actually Looks Like

A safe post-Blackpool week is not about topping the leaderboard again. It is about surviving the dip. The couples who do it well tend to do three things: they choose a dance that suits their current energy rather than their ego, they lean into a simpler concept, and they remind the public why they liked them in the first place. A cheeky Charleston, a clean American Smooth, a ballroom number with no props and no flying pianos — that is the post-Tower medicine.

The couples who crash are the ones who try to match Blackpool. They go bigger, they add more tricks, they chase the same high, and they end up looking tired and overcomplicated. The Tower is a one-off. The week after is about proving you can do the ordinary stuff well.

For Cleo and Marco, the smart move would be to strip it back. No extra dancers. No gimmicks. Just a rumba that shows Cleo can act a lyric and Marco can choreograph to her strengths. If they do that, they might scrape a 30 and live to fight another week. If they try to recreate the Blackpool magic with a wind machine and a troupe of acrobats, the hangover is going to be brutal.

The Verdict

Blackpool is the best night of the Strictly year. The week after is the one that sorts the finalists from the nearly-theres. Cleo Bright and Marco Duarte have the talent to survive it, but they are currently standing in the middle of the road with a blindfold on and a rumba backing track playing in the distance. One bad running order, one dodgy hamstring, one public assumption that they are safe — and the 2026 post-Blackpool curse will have its next victim.

So enjoy the Tower highlights while they last. The comedown is coming, and it does not care how many tens you got under the chandelier.