FORGET Brexit, Trump and Aleppo. The big news this week is that Ed Balls is confirmed for the Strictly Come Dancing live tour because – in the words of one tabloid: “the world needs to see more of his killer moves”.

Right.

Moments before the ex-shadow chancellor and his partner Katya Jones were ejected from the BBC’s most popular light entertainment programme, chief judge Len Goodman told Balls: “You’re not the judges’ champion, but you are the people’s champion.”

Really.

The same night Piers Morgan tweeted: “If Ed Balls is voted off ‪Strictly, I am going to scream & scream, then throw my toys out of the pram & demand another vote.” David Cameron commented: “Well done Ed, we’re really proud of you.” Former chancellor George Osborne tweeted: “An amazing achievement. That took guts.” Broadcaster Jeremy Vine said: “It took a dance-floor to show what a loss Ed Balls is to politics,” and Today presenter Nick Robinson tweeted: “How’s about a second referendum on Edxit?”‬ OK – we get it.

The great and good of the British political firmament have been delighted with Ed Balls’s stompy dancing, goofy expression and willingness to embrace daft outfits and even yellow face-paint. With one Gangnam-style salsa, Ed has not only rehabilitated himself, but by extension the whole grim-faced, grey-suited, apparently uncaring world of Westminster. Yip – underneath they might all be wacky, game for a laugh and basically loveable.

And that’s quite an achievement, because as plans to cut in-work benefits demonstrate, many MPs are far from loveable. They are on a mission to turn Britain into a market society – we became a market economy many years back, in part thanks to folk like Ed Balls.

For anyone with a memory, Ed was an integral part of the New Labour disaster that allowed Cameron, Gideon, austerity, bedroom taxes and Brexit into our lives. For anyone without a memory here’s Kevin Meagher in Labour Uncut: “[Balls’s] period as shadow chancellor under Ed Miliband was an unmitigated disaster for Labour. His association with the dog days of Gordon Brown’s government meant Balls – so long his factotum at the Treasury – was an insane choice for the role. He was a constant, corporeal reminder of Labour’s previous mistakes [when they] spent too much and regulated too little.

“They didn’t fix the roof when the sun was shining. They maxed out the credit card. The blows rained down on Labour’s reputation and Ed Balls was not equal to the task of rebutting them. It meant Labour went into the last election with a leader and shadow chancellor who were both utterly mistrusted and disbelieved on the economy – the central, defining issue of the campaign.”

Yip, that’s oor Ed – or rather it was. Now though, it seems, a disastrous Labour chancellor has been reborn. Ed Balls’s role in the Tories’ return to power has been airbrushed from history by ten weekends of “dad dancing”. His stubborn refusal to give way graciously – as John Sergeant did eight years ago – has also been overlooked, even by the talented dancers who’ve been forced to leave the show early as a consequence.

And though Ed Balls’s spoken contributions have been about as wooden as Bruce Forsyth’s gags, no-one seems to have noticed.

Indeed, all reservations about Ed Balls as a flawed politician seem to have been swept aside by the spectacle of Ed Balls as a flawed human being, as he tried and failed to dance week after week.

And that matters. Last week, the BBC’s director-general told a conference that Aunty is committed to creating more “Ed Balls Gangnam Style moments” because of its duty to “bring the country together around national issues and national moments”.

Tony Hall said: “It’s hard to argue that how well celebrities can dance is an important national issue. But you could certainly describe the former shadow chancellor doing the salsa on primetime, ‘Gangnam Style’, as something of a national moment.”

Actually, no you couldn’t and it’s high time someone woke the London commentariat from its Strictly-induced “one nation” dwam.

Some of us feel strongly about the political mess we are being forced to endure within the UK at the moment – strongly enough to remain untouched and even quite irritated by the cavortings of Ed Balls and his elevation to some sort of post-political civic sainthood. I suspect I’m not alone in whiffing something dangerously complacent and even anti-democratic in the BBC’s new “mission” to mix up politicians and performers inside the same “entertainment” class of worthwhile contributor.

I don’t want to see any more tame and uniformly Unionist politicians being transformed into “national treasures” and given carte blanche to parade across the small screen every other night as loveable eccentrics. When will BBC executives realise they are being played by political operators who know no news is bad news and network exposure is the easiest way to create an uncritical feel-good factor about their policies, ambitions and legacies?

Not anytime soon, unless fans of Strictly break ranks and complain. And, embarrassingly perhaps, that’s me. I was a regular viewer of Strictly Come Dancing until Ed Balls switched me off.

I’d suggest there are good reasons for liking the show. Over twelve years, Strictly has converted nasty, sarcastic, combative, pointless, effortless and air-headed ideas of Saturday night “entertainment” into something decidedly more upbeat. It has put old-fashioned values of effort and enthusiasm back into mainstream light entertainment.

Rival programmes like I’m A Celebrity stand revealed as pretty superficial by comparison – testing only the willingness of celebrities to perform and recover from the most humiliating tasks. Strictly, by contrast, has tested the ability of non-dancing “civilians” to accept the strange rules and disciplines of ballroom dancing. It has proved over a decade that great performance relies on hard graft, teamwork and planning, and demonstrates, week after week, that only massive behind-the-scenes effort or native talent gives performers that relaxed air of having fun – not effortless pouting, pontificating or petulance.

The judges have become mini-performers themselves – not stealing the show, but analysing it with humour, passion and spontaneity. And the pairing of Tess Daly and Claudia Winkleman as co-presenters has ended a deep-seated aversion by all broadcasters to the sight of two women fronting a prime-time light entertainment slot with personality, frocks and verve.

YIP. I’m a big fan. And that’s strange coming from a feminist, I know.

The reason so few women of my generation can ballroom dance is that we balked at the gender stereotypes involved. Highland dancing was at least fairly feisty and equal. But for young women educated to believe we were any man’s equal, the notion of being led in a passive and simpering ballroom dance routine just didn’t appeal. For the 1970s generation, determined to do our own thing, set dances and ordered moves were also inherently repellent. Line dancing appeared mindless and doing anything by rote, by number or in serried ranks was anathema.

Of course, Strictly does uphold sexist stereotypes. Men carry and twirl while women are thrown and juggled. And although just about every size, shape and age group has been squeezed into dinner jackets and ball gowns, the larger, older and un-twirlable gals are regularly voted out.

But niggling worries about ballroom sexism tend to evaporate watching the dancers. Male and female, professional and amateur – they radiate drug-free, hype-free happiness, exhilaration and exuberance. Indeed, the powerful physicality of many women on the dance floor is as close as most gals ever get to scoring the winning goal in a cup final. We don’t see women perform brilliantly on screen nearly often enough. Or witness programme-makers willing to depend on the abilities of live performers. Elsewhere brand is all – but Strictly has had the knack of turning relative unknowns into household names, based on their ability to dance and their personality alone.

On both counts Ed Balls fails, having exhibited neither any dancing skill nor a scintilla of personal charm. Ed has subverted the admirable track record of Strictly Come Dancing, but now stands lauded as its greatest hero.

I’ve no doubt the BBC will be looking to up the ante with next year’s series – Ruth Davidson has already said she’s keen and who knows, maybe Alex Salmond will have a rush of blood to the heid and agree to take part on the basis that regular, endearing exposure to the public in the run-up to indyref2 is worth more than a thousand party political broadcasts.

After the beatification of Ed Balls, some SNP strategists may think joining the Strictly bandwagon is smarter than ignoring it.

But for the long-term health of the independence cause and in the pious hope that politicians can yet be removed from the BBC’s light entertainment programming – please, please dinnae.