In the glittering whirlwind of sequins, spotlights, and scandal that is Strictly Come Dancing, where Latin rhythms pulse like heartbeats and partnerships ignite sparks hotter than a paso doble, the so-called “Strictly curse” has long been the stuff of tabloid legend. From Katya Jones’ infamous 2018 clinch with Neil Jones to the marital meltdowns of past seasons, the BBC juggernaut has a notorious knack for unraveling romances off the dancefloor. But on November 16, 2025—as rehearsals for the 2025 series kick into fever pitch—a fresh bombshell has dropped, threatening to eclipse even the recent spoiler leaks plaguing production. An unnamed celebrity contestant from a “recent” series allegedly embarked on a steamy secret affair with one of the show’s pro dancers, all while still entangled in a committed relationship back home. The clandestine liaison, dismissed at the time as mere “insane chemistry,” reportedly contributed to the star’s eventual breakup, leaving co-stars gobsmacked in hindsight. “The signs were there in plain sight,” insiders whisper now, as the revelation ripples through the Elstree Studios grapevine. But with identities shrouded in mystery, fans are in a frenzy: Who are the forbidden lovers? And in a year already mired in misconduct probes, could this “fling” be the spark that finally torches the show’s squeaky-clean facade? Buckle up, because this curse isn’t just biting—it’s devouring.

To unravel this tantalizing tale, we must first revisit the intoxicating alchemy of Strictly. Launched in 2004 as the British adaptation of Dancing with the Stars, the show pairs soap stars, pop idols, and reality TV veterans with elite ballroom pros for a weekly spectacle of lifts, locks, and leaderboard drama. It’s a pressure cooker of proximity: grueling 12-hour training sessions, late-night strategy huddles, and that electric partner bond forged in sweat and salsa. The “curse” moniker emerged early—think Tess Daly and Vernon Kay’s rumored flirtations in 2005, or more explosively, the 2010 split of Kara Tointon and Mark Wright amid whispers of pro Mark Ballas’ wandering eyes. Fast-forward to recent years, and the hex has hit hyperdrive: In 2022, Countryfile’s Helen Skelton announced her divorce from Richie Myler mere weeks after jiving with pro Gorka Marquez; 2023 saw EastEnders’ Rose Ayling-Ellis and Giovanni Pernice spark off-screen rumors that fizzled into friendship; and last year’s bombshell involved Made in Chelsea’s Jamie Laing, whose marriage to Sophie Habboo teetered amid his foxtrot with Oti Mabuse. Insiders blame the isolation—”You’re in a bubble, away from real life, and suddenly your partner’s the center of your universe”—but skeptics call it a convenient cover for pre-existing cracks. Either way, the curse sells: viewership spiked 15% last series, per BARB ratings, as audiences tuned in for the twirls and the tea.

Enter our anonymous duo, plucked from the annals of a “recent” season—likely 2023 or 2024, given the post-2022 production tweaks like mandatory chaperones for under-18s. Picture this: A high-profile celebrity, fresh-faced and fame-hungry, arrives at Elstree clutching a sob story about work-life balance. They’re coupled with a pro dancer—lithe, charismatic, with a smile that could charm a judges’ panel—whose own romantic history is a Strictly staple of flings and fairytales. From week one, their routines sizzle: a sultry rumba that has Claudia Winkleman cooing about “palpable tension,” a jive so synchronized it blurs the line between performance and passion. Off-camera? Stolen glances in the corridors, “strategy sessions” stretching past midnight at a discreet London gastropub, and hurried hotel check-ins under pseudonyms. “It was a proper fling,” spills a TV insider to MailOnline, the exclusive outlet that broke the story. “They had this great connection—insane chemistry that everyone clocked but chalked up to show magic. But it was more. Way more.” The celebrity, still tethered to a long-term partner—the kind who mans the home front with kids’ school runs and mortgage payments—kept it airtight. No sloppy kisses caught by The Sun‘s snappers, no ill-timed likes on each other’s thirst traps. Just whispers in the wings, dismissed as “dancefloor adrenaline.”

The timeline ticks like a ticking time bomb. Mid-season, as the pair climbs the leaderboard—perhaps snagging a perfect 40 from Anton Du Beke—the affair hits fever pitch. Late-night texts evolve into weekend getaways disguised as “choreography camps” in the Cotswolds. But reality intrudes: The celebrity’s phone buzzes with increasingly frantic calls from home. Arguments erupt—accusations of emotional distance, the classic “It’s just the show!” defense wearing thin. By Blackpool Week, the strain shows: a noticeably off-kilter tango, the star’s eyes glassy under the lights. Elimination looms, but so does exposure. “They were careful—clandestine, even from the cast,” the source reveals. “No one suspected until after the fact.” Post-series, the celebrity’s relationship implodes in a haze of tabloid headlines: “Splitsville!” splashed across Hello! and OK!, with vague nods to “growing apart” and “the pressures of fame.” The pro? They jet off to a panto gig or a Dancing on Ice crossover, all coy smiles and “just friends” vibes. Months pass in relative quiet—until now. “Everyone has just found out,” the insider dishes. “It’s come to light because secrets never stay quiet for long, especially with Strictly.” Was it a loose-lipped wardrobe assistant? A betrayed ex spilling via DM? Or the curse’s karmic boomerang? The cast, reuniting for this year’s launch show, pieced it together over post-rehearsal rosé: lingering hugs at the wrap party, synchronized social media posts that screamed more than mates. “The signs were there in plain sight,” they now admit, a mix of schadenfreude and sympathy.

The fallout? Cataclysmic, timed like a producer’s plot twist. Strictly is already under siege: October 2025 saw BBC chiefs haul in pros Giovanni Pernice and Graziano Di Prima for “alleged misconduct” in training rooms—slaps, screams, and shredded confidence—prompting a tearful Pernice exit and viewer boycotts. Spoiler leakers, dubbing themselves “The Crystal Ball Crew,” have been doxxing eliminations on Reddit, slashing suspense and sponsorships from brands like ASOS. Into this maelstrom drops the affair, a velvet-rope reminder that Strictly‘s glamour masks a viper’s nest. “This just could not come at a worse time,” laments the source. “People talk about the ‘curse of Strictly’ meaning that it kills off marriages and relationships—and goodness knows there have been plenty of those episodes.” No official BBC comment yet—”We’re focused on celebrating dance,” a rep stonewalled—but whispers swirl of internal audits: Were intimacy coordinators bypassed? Did the “no romance” clause in contestant contracts hold water? The pro dancer, sources hint, is a veteran—perhaps a returning face like Aljaž Škorjanec or Janette Manrara, whose own post-Strictly baby bliss contrasts the chaos. The celebrity? Speculation runs rampant on Mumsnet and X: A soap siren like Georgia Steel from 2024’s Love Island crossover, or This Morning’s Holly Hagan, whose hubby Jacob Blyth raised eyebrows at her pro Jake Wood’s touchy-feely tango? “It’s not who you think,” teases the insider, fueling a frenzy that’s outpaced even the Giovanni probe in Google trends.

For the players, the scars run deep. The celebrity, now single and spotlight-shy, is reportedly “devastated” by the leak—therapy sessions booked, a low-key Ibiza retreat on the horizon. Their ex-partner? Radio silence, but friends murmur of “world-shattering betrayal,” with divorce papers possibly en route. The pro, ever the showman, masks hurt with hustle—lining up a Strictly Live Tour slot—but insiders fear for their mental health in a post-#MeToo era where dancers are disposable. “The curse isn’t magic; it’s math,” opines relationship guru Anna Williamson on her Harriet Harris podcast. “Intense proximity plus high stakes equals inevitable implosion.” Fans, divided as ever, flood petitions: Some demand name-drops for “transparency,” others decry the “witch hunt” mentality. “Let them cha-cha their shame in private,” one viral tweet pleads, while another snarls, “BBC’s hiding skeletons—spill!”

As Strictly 2025 looms—boasting a lineup tease of Olympian Tom Daley and pop princess Ellie Goulding—the air crackles with caution. New protocols roll out: Weekly “wellness checks,” partner-swapping vetoes, and a “curse clause” in NDAs. But can rules rein in human heat? History says nay. This affair, cloaked in anonymity yet screaming for spotlight, embodies Strictly‘s dual soul: A joyous jig masking jagged edges. Will the mystery pair step forward, or slink into salsa sunset? One thing’s certain—in the dancehall of deceit, every lift has a drop. And as the BBC polishes its plinths, the nation waits, waltzing on tenterhooks, for the next forbidden foxtrot to floor us all.