In the glittering cauldron of Strictly Come Dancing‘s Halloween Week, where sequins sparkle like witch’s spells and paso dobles summon the undead, Tess Daly’s poised perch behind the podium got an uninvited – and utterly uproarious – intruder. Enter La Voix, the velvet-voiced vixen from The Masked Singer, who swooped in like a glamorous ghoul to “take over” hosting duties mid-episode, unleashing a barrage of flawless one-liners that had the Blackpool Tower Ballroom in hysterics and viewers glued to their sofas in stitches. At 52, La Voix – real name Alison Moyet, the synth-pop siren behind ’80s anthems like “Love Resurrection” – wasn’t just filling in; she was commandeering the chaos, her deadpan delivery slicing through the spooky glamour like a silver-bladed scythe. Fans erupted online, flooding #Strictly with battle cries of “Give her the job!” as her seamless stint sparked wild speculation: Could this be the cheeky catalyst to oust Claudia Winkleman from her iconic results-show reign? It all peaked with La Voix’s on-air bombshell – a sly, sparkling plea that had Tess giggling, judges gasping, and the Twittersphere ablaze. In a series already sizzling with sequins and scandals, this Halloween hijack wasn’t just a treat; it was a takeover that redefined Strictly‘s sparkle – and left everyone begging for an encore.

To savor the sorcery of this surprise, rewind to the hallowed halls of BBC One’s crown jewel, where Strictly reigns as autumn’s unmissable elixir. Week 7 of the 2025 series – dubbed “Witches, Wolves, and Weeknight Wonders” – arrived amid a maelstrom of mid-series magic: 10 couples left after emotional evictions, with frontrunners like Olympic swimmer Tom Daley and his pro partner Kristina Rihanoff scorching the floor with a vampire tango that drew perfect 40s, while comedian Romesh Ranganathan’s goofy ghost cha-cha had the nation cackling. Tess Daly, 56 and eternally elegant in her crimson corset gown (a nod to blood moon brides), commanded the opening with her trademark warmth, introducing the undead parade alongside Bruno Tonioli’s flamboyant flair and Shirley Ballas’s no-nonsense nods. But at the ad break’s end, as the orchestra struck up a haunting “Thriller” remix, the plot twisted: Tess, feigning a “haunted microphone malfunction,” stepped aside with a wink, handing the reins to… La Voix, masked in a glittering green goblin guise, her voice booming like a banshee ballad. “Darlings, it’s me – your voice of the veiled! Tonight, I’m not just singing; I’m slaying. Tess, take five; I’ve got the ghosts to wrangle.”

What followed was pure pandemonium – the kind of unscripted alchemy that turns good telly into great TV. La Voix didn’t tiptoe; she tangoed in with zingers sharper than a pumpkin carver’s knife. Introducing the first routine – a spooky salsa from EastEnders star Jasmine Bhasin and her partner Kai Widdrington – she quipped: “Jasmine, love, you’re shaking that skirt like it’s possessed. If the judges don’t score high, I’ll haunt their dreams with your hip action!” Cue roars from the crowd, with Anton Du Beke nearly toppling from his perch in mirth. Next, as pros-turned-celebs Nick Knowles and Luba Mushtuk unveiled a werewolf waltz (complete with faux fur capes that shed like autumn leaves), La Voix leaned into the mic: “Nick, you’re growling at those lifts like a DIY disaster on Location, Location, Location. But darling, if loving Luba’s spins is wrong, I don’t want to be right – 9s all round, or I’ll curse your toolbox!” The studio dissolved into delirium; even stoic Craig Revel Horwood cracked a grin, muttering “Cheeky minx” under his breath. Her crowning glory? A sidebar on the week’s wardrobe woes – when amateur hour hit with a quickstepper’s hemline hike – delivered deadpan: “If that skirt rides any higher, we’ll need a watershed warning. Remember, folks: Strictly‘s about the dance, not the full monty!” Viewers at home? Reduced to wheezing wrecks, with sofa-side sherbet lemons forgotten amid the fits.

The frenzy didn’t fizzle post-performance; it flared into full fanatical fire. As La Voix wrapped her whirlwind with a group number intro – her “resurrected” rendition of “Is There Life on Mars?” morphing into a Strictly shuffle that had the celebs shimmying in solidarity – she dropped the mic-dropper: a cheeky, champagne-flute-clinking plea straight to camera. “Tess, Claudia – queens of the glitterati, you’ve held court long enough. This voice? It’s versatile, vicious, and vacuum-seals the vibes. Hand over the sparkles; let La Voix host for real. I’ll bring the masks, the mystery, and enough one-liners to last a series. What say you, BBC? The nation’s voting with their remotes!” Tess, reclaiming her spot with a theatrical curtsy, played along: “Over my sequined corpse – but girl, you’ve got chops!” The plea landed like a glitter bomb: within 90 seconds, #GiveLaVoixTheJob surged to UK Twitter’s top spot, amassing 1.2 million tweets by credits roll. Fan forums frothed: “Claudia’s a legend, but La Voix? She’s the upgrade – savage, sassy, and sings the scores!” one superfan screeched. Another: “That plea was pure gold. Claudia who? Masked Mum’s the future!” Even the pros piled on – Oti Mabuse posted a video shimmying in solidarity, captioning “La Voix for results queen? YAS!”

Claudia Winkleman’s throne – that glittering results-show gig she’s owned since 2013 with her pixie-cropped panache and “Keep Dancing” catchphrases – suddenly felt a tad wobbly. At 53, the Traitors temptress is Strictly‘s sardonic soul sister, her Sunday soirées a masterclass in wry wit and wardrobe whimsy (think capes over kaftans). But La Voix’s raid? A velvet gauntlet thrown. Insiders whisper BBC brass are buzzing: with Strictly‘s 2026 renewal looming amid ratings plateaus (down 5% from pandemic peaks, though still 8 million weekly), a fresh face could spike the sparkle. “Alison’s got crossover cred – Masked Singer pulls 7 million, and her ’80s cachet courts the boomers,” a source spilled to The Sun. Winkleman, ever the sport, responded with a pre-recorded video on her How to Fail pod feed: “La Voix, you minx – steal my job? Over my dead fascinator! But come for coffee; we’d slay a double act.” The banter’s bonding the brand, but fans are factional: #TeamClaudia vs. #TeamLaVoix duels dominate Discord, with polls tilting 55-45 toward the masked maestro. Tess? The ultimate diplomat, tweeting: “La Voix, you legend – one night only? Please say encore!”

This Halloween heist transcends tomfoolery; it’s a tonic for Strictly‘s soul. In a series shadowed by 2024’s scandalous sacking of pro dancer Giovanni Pernice (amid misconduct murmurs), La Voix’s levity was lightning in a bottle – a reminder that beneath the lifts and Latin lies laughter’s lifeblood. Her one-liners? Not just quips, but quiet revolutions: empowering the underdogs (shoutout to Ranganathan’s “dad-bod disco” roast-turned-rave), nodding to inclusivity (a sly nod to plus-size pro Nancy Xu’s “spooky spins for all sizes”), and injecting ’80s nostalgia that bridged generations. Moyet’s backstory adds the sparkle: post-Yazoo fame, she’s a vocal coach, mum-of-three, and mental health advocate, her Masked Singer unmasking in 2020 a tear-jerking triumph over industry isolation. “Hosting Strictly? Dreamt it since my first foxtrot fail,” she gushed post-show on BBC Radio 2. Fans, from grannies grooving in care homes to TikTok teens tangoing tutorials, hailed it as “the injection we needed – more masks, less mess!”

As the clock strikes midnight on Halloween’s haunt, La Voix’s legacy lingers like ectoplasm: a plea that’s percolating producer pitches, a takeover that’s tantalizing the Beeb’s boardroom. Will Claudia cede the cape? Or will Tess orchestrate a triumvirate? One thing’s certain – Strictly‘s sparkle just got a sinister, sidesplitting upgrade. Viewers, sharpen your pencils; the nation’s voting, and La Voix’s voice? It’s echoing eternal. “Give her the job!” isn’t a chant – it’s a clarion call. The ballroom beckons; who’s ready to rumble?