Yesterday X, her mom and myself went to Art on Ice 2013, a spectacle that has kind of replaced Stockholm Ice, which we've visited in prior years.

It's a show, loosely held together by a German MC who presented the audience with a spellbindingly irrelevant story about a magic book, paired with words on how "beautiful, just beautiful" the women were, while stamping guys like Florent Amodio with being "virile" and "filled with testosterone".

The show aspect of it all was bad; please, until next time, get rid of those fucking hands (see below imagery), the bad story and just let the skaters do their thing, and I'll still pay for tickets, as will others, I promise.

Those. Hands. Sadly, there was no head attached to them in some way; if there were, I would have tried to mind-control the fucking thing and make it strangle itself. I think the act was called "Moominschantz", which is in all probability German and means "You actually paid to see this!"

Not to mention they pulled off a very malplacé tribute to Barry Gibb and Donna Summer...

But then came the skaters:

Sarah Meier was one of the first out. She dished out a fairly OK routine; nothing memorable, but still solid.

Florent Amodio pulled off a dancey routine with a lot of hip-shaking and a little bare-breasting action. People went wild. No matter what you think of tricks like that, the boy can skate, and any way it was a relief from the snooze-fest that the show itself was.

A Japanese champion whose name escapes me completely...

Blurred lights while Aliona Savchenko and Robin Szolkowy, the best couple skaters in the world (according to Yours Truly), do things like they should be done.

To end it all, Stéphane Lambiel ran and worked his wonderful sense of style; he may not be the best technically speaking, but he's a real artist. If you ever want to get into the world of figure skating, check out Evgeni Plushenko or Lambiel, and you won't go wrong.

All in all: there were a bunch of more acts than the one I've posted about above, some simply showy, some quite artistic, but the singers (except for Leona Lewis singing "Bleeding Love" which I liked) were as drafted straight from the 1990s and I'm not one for acrobatics, more about quality than mirrors and smoke. Was it worth it? Yes, it was. Next time, bring Plushenko no matter what, please.