Didn't he do well? Strictly speaking, no, not really
Nice to see the back of you, to see the back of you nice.
Finally, after years of prayer and sacrifice to the Strictly gods, Brucie is (quick) stepping down.
The Forsyth saga is one with more layers than Kristina's fake tan: age, gender, talent, loyalty and legacy are all up for debate. Were it not for the sequins, tit-tape and bottles of Elnett, it'd be Shakespearean.
While no doubt one of the best entertainers of a generation, Brucie has been excruciating to watch for a good five years now.
The eye-rolling jokes, the fluffed Autocue lines, the incessant interruptions, the cringeworthy comments: all make for almost unbearable television.
And the injustice that this was allowed to continue year on year until he reached the grand old age of 86, from the same show that booted off 66-year-old Arlene Phillips because she was too old, only rubbed salt into the wounds. You stay classy, BBC execs.
Add all of that together and what were we left with by the end of last series? Anger, unfairness and pity (there's something inherently sad about seeing a once-great talent failing and flailing) that's what. Suddenly, Tess and her ill-fitting dresses don't seem so bad in comparison. Although, if she could buy a bra in time for next series, we'd all appreciate it.
However, finally, the right decision has now been made and Brucie's bowing out. If I had a spangly panel with the number 10 printed on, I'd be waving it around like a madwoman.
And his replacement?
Well, even though she's talented, popular and knows the show like the back of her Fake Bake-smeared hand, Claudia Winkleman is not the favourite.
Obviously that's down to the fact that every TV set in the land would explode if two women hosted a primetime mainstream programme. Obviously.
Nope, in time honoured tradition, Graham Norton is the favourite, as he is for every single TV hosting job that ever arises. Yawn.
Then there's Anton du Becke, which makes a little more sense although I fear he'd be just as bad as Bruce in the toe-curling cringe category. Remember what he called Laila Rouass? Shudder.
Bafflingly, John Barrowman's also in the running. To which I only have one thing to say . . . Eh?
But it's the last name on the list that sends my blood icy cold: Vernon "I'm from Bolton!" Kay.
The Bolton-born model-turned-presenter, who grew up in Bolton, is Mr Tess Daly and together they form the most OTT and "quick, someone press the 'mute' button" couple in TV land. Richard and Judy they ain't. Heck, they're not even Marvin and Rochelle.
If Vernon, who hails from Bolton, got the gig, then all is lost.
I can think of nothing worse than having to listen to the professional haircut and his wife shout and pout their way through two hours of live telly. Did you know he's from Bolton, by the way?
No, that would truly be the worse thing to happen.
In fact, there'd only be one thing for it – come back, Bruce, all is forgiven.