Anton Du Beke Strictly Come Dancing Partners

So, picture this: it’s 2025, and I’m idly scrolling through a classic Strictly clip—Anton Du Beke, in a sparkly tiger-print shirt, trying to teach a terrified celebrity how to waltz. The celeb is gripping his arm like it’s a life raft, and Anton, with that unshakeable, slightly posh grin, says: “Just trust me, darling—it’s only dancing.” I nearly spat out my tea. Because, let’s be honest, for Anton, that sentence is the mission statement of his entire Strictly career.

Over the years, Anton Du Beke has been handed some of the most… interesting partners on the show. You know the ones: the contestants who look like they’ve never heard a beat in their lives, or who treat the rumba like a fire evacuation drill. But here’s the thing—Anton made it his life’s work to turn those challenging partnerships into something oddly memorable. And that’s what we’re here to talk about: the chaotic, beautiful, sometimes hilarious story of Anton’s Strictly partners.

The Early Years: When “Last Place” Became a Brand

Let’s rewind to 2004, when Anton first stepped onto the dance floor with Lesley Joseph. She was 58, he was 38, and the producers clearly thought, “Let’s give the new pro the actress who’s getting on a bit.” Spoiler: they were voted off first. But did Anton sulk? No. He grinned, took the loss, and started a pattern that would define his next decade: “I’ll make you look good, even if we’re bottom of the leaderboard.”

Then came Esther Rantzen in 2011. Oh, Esther. She was 71, and her paso doble looked less like a bullfight and more like a determined pigeon trying to navigate a roundabout. Anton’s commentary? “She has the heart of a lion and the hips of a very confused octopus.” You can’t make this stuff up. They lasted four weeks, but those four weeks were pure gold—awkward, endearing, and somehow celebrating the fact that dance doesn’t have to be perfect to be fun.

The “Fan Favorites” Who Defied All Odds

Fast-forward to 2015, and Anton got Katie Derham. Now, Katie was a news presenter—elegant, composed, but about as flexible as a plank of oak. Yet, under Anton’s guidance, they made it all the way to the semi-finals. I remember watching their American Smooth and thinking, “Wait, is this the same guy who used to get voted off in week two?” It was a turning point. Anton suddenly went from “comedy fodder” to legitimate contender.

Then there was Emma Barton in 2019. Emma was a musical theater pro, so she could actually dance—which, for Anton, must have felt like winning the lottery after a decade of playing with Monopoly money. They finished as runners-up, and Anton’s face during the final was a mix of shock and pure, unguarded joy. “I finally got to do a proper tango!” he practically shouted. Mate, we were all rooting for you.

The Year Everything Changed: 2021 and Beyond

And then—plot twist—Anton himself stopped being a pro and became a judge. But before that, his final partner was Katie McGlynn in 2021. Katie couldn’t walk in heels or remember which foot was which, but Anton’s patience was legendary. One night, after a particularly wobbly cha-cha, he whispered to her: “Don’t worry, love. On the bright side, you’ve given the nation the best laugh they’ve had all week.” That’s pure Anton: turning a disaster into a shared joke.

Now, let’s talk about the unsung heroes of Anton’s journey. Women like Anne Widdecombe (2008), who was the Queen of “I don’t care if I look ridiculous—I’m having fun.” Anne’s paso doble is still the most-watched car crash in Strictly history. And Anton? He stood there, holding her waist, looking like a man trying to steer a shopping trolley with a wonky wheel. But he never mocked her. He celebrated her. That’s the secret sauce, isn’t it?

The Irony of Being “The Dancer Who Always Came Last”

Here’s the irony: Anton Du Beke spent 17 years being the pro who almost never won. He was the guy who got the grandmothers, the newsreaders, and the velvet-suited disasters. But in doing so, he became the most beloved male pro on the show. Why? Because he understood that Strictly isn’t just about technique—it’s about making people feel seen, even when they’re tripping over their own feet.

And let’s face it: would we have cheered as hard for Anton if he’d only had ringers? No way. The magic was in the mess. The way he’d lean into the camera after a 3-point cha-cha and say, “Well, that was a… unique interpretation of the music.” That’s the art of the non-winner: you pivot, you laugh, and you make everyone feel like they’re in on the joke.

So, What’s the Takeaway?

Looking back, Anton’s partners weren’t just dance partners—they were co-conspirators in a long-running, glitter-streaked comedy. He took the duffers, the stiffs, and the tap-dancing traumatized, and gave them a moment in the spotlight. And we loved him for it.

Next time you hear someone say “Anton was just a joke,” remind them of this: he turned the joke into a legacy. From Lesley to Katie, from bottom of the board to ballroom legend, Anton Du Beke proved that sometimes the best partner is the one who laughs with you when you inevitably fall on your face. And that, my friend, is a dance worth remembering.

Now, go rewatch Anne Widdecombe’s paso. I dare you not to smile.