An emotional La Voix fought back tears as she said goodbye to Strictly, after having to withdraw from the competition due to injury.

The drag star, 45, whose real name is Christopher Dennis, appeared in Blackpool on Sunday’s show where she talked about her abrupt departure.

La Voix was advised on medical grounds she could no longer take part on Strictly after injuring her foot earlier in the week in rehearsals.

Calling it the most ‘extraordinary experience’, the TV personality said: ‘I came into the show as a minority, as a redhead and you’ve all embraced me wonderfully.

‘I cannot thank you enough… this is not how I wanted my journey to end,’ before joking: ‘At least it gives someone else in this competition a chance to win.’

Reflecting on their partnership, Aljaz Skorjanec, 35, said: ‘I’ve been lucky this year. I’ve made two friends for life. On Saturdays/ Sundays we all laugh with La Voix and from Monday to Friday I had the best time with Chris.

An emotional La Voix fought back tears as she said goodbye to Strictly, after having to withdraw from the competition due to injury

La Voix was advised on medical grounds she could no longer take part on Strictly after injuring her foot earlier in the week in rehearsals

‘I haven’t done a single crunch in the past six months but I’ve got my six pack back, it’s amazing.

‘Like Motsi said, “We all need it”. The world needs more of you. Strictly needed it, you made my life a joy.. You are so beautiful in what you do.’

La Voix told Aljaz she is going to leave Strictly ‘a braver, happier and such a more confident person’.

At the end of the show, the pair took to the dancefloor to say goodbye to viewers, with the professional dancer having to scoop La Voix off her feet due to her injury.

Fans took to social media and wrote: ‘Aljaz’s speech to La Voix was absolutely beautiful what a man’;

‘Adored La Voix being part of the show and everyone else getting to see a fraction of the talent those of us who watched #DragRaceUK saw’;

‘La Voix and Aljaž, what a great pairing, will miss them lots’;

‘I was sad to see them having to leave the competition. A great team, and I got to know La Voix better too’;

The drag star, 45, whose real name is Christopher Dennis, appeared in Blackpool on Sunday’s show where she talked about her abrupt departure

At the end of the show, the pair took to the dancefloor to say goodbye to viewers, with the professional dancer having to scoop La Voix off her feet due to her injury

Hosts Claudia Winkleman and Tess Daly brought the glamour to Blackpool with their outfits

Taking to Instagram minutes after the announcement of her exit was made, La Voix shared a statement

Alijaz said it was a pleasure to work with Chris and with La Voix. He said: ‘I’ve been lucky this year. I’ve made two friends for life’

Fans took to social media to say goodbye to the TV favourite. They wrote: ‘Aljaz’s speech to La Voix was absolutely beautiful what a man’

‘I somehow don’t think that’s the last we’ve seen of La Voix on #Strictly… Presenter of the show / spinoff show, social media content she’ll be back in some capacity. They seem to really love her.’

La Voix’s sudden withdrawal from the competition meant none of the remaining six couples would be voted off this weekend.

Taking to Instagram minutes after the announcement of her exit was made, La Voix shared a statement.

She wrote: ‘I’m absolutely devastated to be withdrawing from Strictly Come Dancing. This isn’t the glittering exit I ever imagined, and it breaks my heart to feel like I’ve let people down.

‘My spirit wanted to keep dancing but my foot had other ideas! Thank you for every cheer, every vote and every sparkle of support – it’s meant the world to me. This isn’t the ending I imagined but I’ll cherish this forever.’

La Voix’s exit came after former Love Island star Dani Dyer, 29, quit the competition before the first live show on September 27 after she fractured her ankle in rehearsals.

And Neighbours actor Stefan Dennis, 67, pulled out of Strictly Come Dancing on October 20 because he tore a calf muscle.

Elsewhere on the show, returning Strictly alumni Danny Mac wowed viewers.

La Voix’s exit came after former Love Island star Dani Dyer, 29, quit the competition before the first live show on September 27 after she fractured her ankle in rehearsals

Neighbours actor Stefan Dennis, 67, pulled out of Strictly Come Dancing on October 20 because he tore a calf muscle

The actor, 37, who took part in the show in 2016 alongside Oti Mabuse, joined Ashley Roberts, 44, Layton Williams, 31, and Jay McGuiness, 35, for a special performance for Blackpool week.

Fans were distracted by Danny’s ripped physique as he danced his famous Samba in an undone sheer shirt and took to social media to say he was ‘robbed’ of the Glitterball.

The former soap star missed out on winning during his series, with Ore Oduba and his professional partner Joanne Clifton coming out victorious.

Impressed by his moves and stage presence, viewers wrote on X: ‘Danny Mac has made my weekend hahah’;

‘Give Danny Mac another series for goodness sake’;

‘danny mac descending from the blackpool tower ballroom ceiling with his bedazzled shirt open, chest on show, ready to samba his way back into our hearts like it’s 2016 all over again’;

‘it makes me sick to my stomach thinking about how robbed danny mac was even almost a whole decade late’ and ‘Danny Mac really proving he was the most robbed finalist of all time’;

‘Love Jay’ and ‘They’re all still brilliant’.

Returning Strictly alumni Danny Mac wowed viewers as he opened Sunday’s show for the Blackpool special

The actor, 37, joined Ashley Roberts, 44, Layton Williams, 31, and Jay McGuiness, 35, for a special performance for Blackpool week

Fans were distracted by Danny’s ripped physique as he danced his famous Samba in an undone sheer shirt, and said he was ‘robbed’ of the Glitterball

Danny took part in the show in 2016 alongside Oti Mabuse (pictured)

The returning Strictly stars performed a rendition of their most famous numbers with the professional dancers in Sunday’s results show

Viewers wrote on X: ‘Danny Mac has made my weekend hahah’; ‘Give Danny Mac another series for goodness sake’

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 Strictly fans are obsessed with shirtless Danny Mac as alumni return for Blackpool

The group performed a rendition of their most famous numbers with the professional dancers.

The new routine featured elements of Jay and Ashley’s iconic Jives, Danny’s famous Samba, and Layton’s showstopping Quickstep.

On returning to Strictly, Ashley said ahead of the show: ‘I’m so excited and grateful to be back on the shiny floor in Blackpool again.’

Danny added: ‘Dancing in Blackpool was an absolute highlight of my time on Strictly. To be heading back up to The Tower Ballroom once again is as thrilling as it is terrifying, but I can’t wait to be reunited with all the wonderful people who make this show.’

All four dancers joined forces for the pros for a dazzling routine that saw them each revisit one of their most famous Strictly moments

Jay said: ‘I feel extremely lucky to be part of the Strictly alumni that are going to shake our booties again. I’m ready to have some fun with the old gang and the new gang’

Layton reunited with his pro partner Nikita Kuzmin after they reached the final in 2023, with a reprisal of their energetic Quickstep

On returning to Strictly, Ashley said: ‘Nearly a decade later, let’s see if these jive legs can still do their thing! Sequins always help, I’m sure’

Lewis Cope earned his second 40 of the series as he kicked off Strictly’s Blackpool show, after impressing with his Charleston with Katya Jones

It was revealed on Saturday that after La Voix was forced to withdraw from the competition due to injury, none of the remaining six couples would be voted off

Emmerdale star Lewis Cope, 30, and Katya Jones, 36, topped this week’s leaderboard with a perfect 40 points.

EastEnders actress Balvinder Sopal, 46, and Julian Caillon, 30, who came last with 33 points.

Scores from the judges – Craig Revel Horwood, 60, Motsi Mabuse, 44, Shirley Ballas, 65, and 59 year old Anton Du Beke – as well as viewers’ votes will be carried over, and combined with next week’s points and votes.

 

When La Voix finally sat down to speak publicly about her withdrawal from Strictly Come Dancing, the weight of the moment seemed to fold around her like a curtain she could no longer hold up. She had carried herself with such poise throughout the competition, dazzling with her charisma, humor, and theatrical flair, that audiences had assumed she was invincible. She embodied confidence, costume-changing magic, comedic timing, and the pure joy of performance. But on the day she addressed the nation about her injury, that glittering armor slipped. Her voice trembled. Her eyes glistened. And then, in a moment that left fans around the country deeply moved, La Voix broke down in tears, confessing that withdrawing from Strictly was “not how I wanted my journey to end.” Her vulnerability pierced through the sparkly veneer that Strictly often projects, reminding everyone that behind every dance is a human heart, fragile and beating with dreams that can be abruptly altered by fate.

For weeks leading up to her exit, she had worn a smile that concealed more pain than anyone guessed. The tabloids had speculated fatigue, stress, maybe a pulled muscle — but it wasn’t until she spoke that the true story emerged. She revealed she had suffered a foot injury severe enough to impede her ability to rehearse, let alone perform. What fans didn’t know was how long she had struggled to mask the agony, pushing herself through choreography designed for a body at full strength, not one fighting through sharp, radiating discomfort. The foot is a dancer’s foundation — the point of contact with the floor, the anchor for balance, the launch pad for lifts, spins, pivots. And hers had betrayed her at the height of one of the most transformative experiences of her career.

The injury occurred during a rehearsal that she described with heartbreaking clarity. It was late in the evening, fatigue settling in, but she insisted on “one more run” of a routine she desperately wanted to perfect before the following day. Her partner, a patient and encouraging presence throughout the competition, supported her determination. They had been working on a routine that required intricate footwork — a quick Latin sequence that demanded sharp articulation, precise turns, and relentless stamina. She landed a turn, and suddenly something snapped beneath her. She felt the unmistakable surge of pain rise from her foot and shoot up her leg. At first she convinced herself it wasn’t serious. Performers become experts at minimizing pain in the moment — you shake it off, grit your teeth, and press on. But this wasn’t the kind of ache that fades with stretching or deep breaths. It was the kind that warns you something is wrong, deeply wrong.

Still, La Voix kept quiet. Not because she wanted to be a martyr, but because she feared disappointing everyone who had invested in her journey. She feared letting down the audience who cheered her every Saturday, voting her through, celebrating her progress. She feared letting down her partner, who had worked tirelessly to bring out her best. She feared letting down her younger self — the performer who spent years dreaming of being on Strictly, of being celebrated not only for comedy and theatricality but for artistry, discipline, and courage. The dream had been so close she could taste it. And the thought of losing it because of one misstep felt unbearable.

As she spoke through tears about why she stayed silent, viewers understood just how crushing the emotional burden had been. She didn’t want to appear weak. She didn’t want people thinking she didn’t belong there. She didn’t want her moment in the spotlight — a moment she had fought years to earn — to slip away before she had fully shown what she was capable of. So she continued. She iced the injury. She wrapped her foot. She changed shoes. She asked her partner to adjust moves to accommodate her pain without revealing its source. She even altered her walk to minimize pressure on the damaged area. But pain has a way of amplifying under pressure. And Strictly is pressure in its purest form.

Every rehearsal became a battle between willpower and physical limitation. Every step sent a sharp reminder that she was pushing her body past its warning point. Every turn, lift, slide, and shuffle was an exercise in mental override. Her partner noticed the strain, asking gently if she was alright, but she brushed him off with jokes or excuses. Secretly, she was terrified that admitting the truth would mean the end of her Strictly journey, and she wasn’t ready to let go.

The breaking point came when she woke one morning and couldn’t put full weight on her foot. She tried stretching, heating, massaging — nothing eased the tight, burning sting that had rooted itself beneath her skin. She limped into rehearsal, still determined to try, but the moment she attempted the first move of the routine, her foot buckled. Her partner caught her before she fell. And that was it. She couldn’t pretend anymore.

She described sitting on the studio floor, tears streaming down her face long before the cameras ever captured her grief. Her partner sat beside her, his arm around her shoulders, comforting her as she whispered, “I don’t want it to be over. Not like this.” It was the first time she had allowed herself to acknowledge aloud the fear she had been carrying for days. The truth hurt more than the injury itself. A medic was called. A physiotherapist examined her. A senior producer arrived, concerned. The decision, ultimately, was no longer hers. Strictly prides itself on protecting contestants’ health. Continuing was impossible.

When she was finally told she had to withdraw, she felt something inside her crack. It wasn’t defiance. It wasn’t denial. It was heartbreak — simple, raw, human heartbreak. She had worked so hard, sacrificed so much, loved so deeply the experience of performing in that ballroom. And in a single sentence, it was taken from her.

Speaking publicly about that moment, she broke down again. She said she cried not because she had failed, but because she didn’t get to finish her story the way she imagined. She had envisioned learning to dance with elegance, showing improvement week after week, overcoming self-doubt, growing stronger. She wanted her Strictly story to be one of triumph, joy, resilience — not of being forced to stop before she was ready.

She revealed that the hardest part wasn’t the pain, but the grief of accepting that her body had demanded a pause she wasn’t emotionally prepared to take. She felt she had let everyone down, even though every single person — her partner, the judges, the crew, her fans — told her she had done the opposite. They reassured her that she had inspired thousands, that her journey had already meant something significant. But grief doesn’t always listen to reason.

The night she filmed her farewell interview, she struggled to hold herself together. She tried joking, tried smiling, tried being the larger-than-life personality fans adored. But when she uttered the words, “This is not how I wanted my journey to end,” the reality hit her again. And the tears refused to stay hidden.

But what she didn’t know then — what she would only discover in the weeks that followed — was that the nation’s love for her didn’t fade when she stepped off the Strictly dance floor. If anything, it grew stronger.

Fans flooded social media with messages of support. Thousands thanked her for her bravery, for dancing through adversity, for bringing joy to their Saturday nights. People shared stories of their own injuries, their own disappointments, their own moments of having to stop before they were ready. They saw themselves in her heartbreak and admired her honesty. She wasn’t just a performer anymore — she was a symbol of resilience.

As weeks passed, her injury slowly healed, but her emotional wounds took longer to mend. She went through days of sadness, asking herself whether she had made the right choices. But gradually, she began to reclaim her narrative. She started speaking about the injury not as the end of her Strictly journey, but as the turning point that revealed her true strength — not the strength to dance, but the strength to feel, to cry, to let go.

She returned to performing once she was physically ready, but she carried the lesson of her Strictly experience with her: that dreams don’t always follow the path you imagine, but that doesn’t make them any less meaningful. Her time on Strictly, though shorter than she wished, had changed her. It had given her confidence she never knew she lacked. It had given her a platform she used to inspire others. It had shown her she was capable of more than she ever believed.

In interviews months later, she spoke with surprising peace about the ordeal. She said she would never trade her Strictly journey, not even the painful ending. Because the experience taught her the importance of listening to her body, valuing her well-being, and embracing vulnerability. She said the tears she shed were not signs of weakness, but signs of love — love for the show, for performing, for the fans, for her partner, for the dream she had chased with everything she had.

And in reflecting on it all, La Voix realized something profound: her journey didn’t end when she left Strictly. It simply changed form. She discovered a new relationship with herself — one rooted not in perfection, but in authenticity. She discovered a new connection with audiences, one forged through honesty rather than performance. She discovered that sometimes, the most beautiful stories are the ones interrupted, the ones reshaped by reality, the ones that show the human behind the glitter.

Her Strictly experience didn’t end the way she wanted. But it ended in a way that revealed her heart — its strength, its fragility, its capacity to break and still keep beating.

And in that truth, she found something even more powerful than a perfect ending — she found herself.

In the weeks after her emotional interview, the one where her voice cracked and the tears she had been holding back finally spilled into the open, La Voix found herself stepping into an unfamiliar kind of quiet. It was not the silence of an empty rehearsal studio or the stillness of a darkened theatre after the final bow. It was the silence that comes after heartbreak — the silence that follows a dream halted mid-stride, that hangs heavy in the air when everything you’ve been running toward suddenly falls out of reach. It lingered in her home, in her morning routines, in the soft way she moved across the room now that she had nothing to rush toward. It lingered in the absence of sequins, music, choreography counts, adrenaline, and the comforting rhythm of Strictly life. She had thought she was prepared for rest, but she wasn’t prepared for the void.

Her foot throbbed daily at first, a dull, insistent reminder of the moment everything changed. It wasn’t just a physical pain — it was the emotional echo attached to it. Every time she felt the sting in her foot, she remembered the studio floor where she had broken down, the rehearsal room where she whispered, “I don’t want it to be over,” the kind eyes of her partner as he steadied her, and the producer’s gentle voice telling her she could not continue. The injury felt like both a betrayal and a burden, something she had tried to shield herself from emotionally by pushing through, yet something she now had no choice but to face fully.

Still, as the initial shock wore off, it became clear that physically stepping away from the Strictly ballroom was only the beginning of her emotional journey. She had spent so many years performing strength — raising her chin, squaring her shoulders, dazzling audiences with boldness and bravado — that she had forgotten how to rest in her own vulnerability. Strictly had shown her she was capable of surprising her own limits, but the injury showed her she was still human, still breakable, still susceptible to the same fragilities that touch all performers — even those who have mastered the art of appearing unshakable.

Her closest friends began visiting more frequently. They brought takeaway dinners, sweet treats, noise, laughter — anything to help fill the heavy quiet that had settled in her home. They told her she had already done enough, that she had already proven everything she needed to prove, that no one saw her departure as failure. She tried to take their words in, but the ache inside her heart resisted comfort. It wasn’t about public perception. It wasn’t even about disappointment. It was about the sudden loss of something she loved — something she had fought for, something she had dreamt of, something she wasn’t ready to say goodbye to.

There were moments when she reached for her old rehearsal shoes out of habit, only to stop mid-motion, her heart dipping as she realized she couldn’t put them on. There were evenings when she replayed her Strictly performances on her laptop, tears pooling silently as she watched the woman she had been — vibrant, hopeful, eager — and mourned the routines she’d never get the chance to dance. Sometimes, she paused the video mid-frame, studying her own smile, wondering if she had known the clock was ticking beneath the joy.

Her physiotherapy sessions became a space of unexpected introspection. While working on repairing the muscles and tendons, she found herself speaking about her emotions more than her injury. Her physiotherapist listened with the compassion of someone who understood that healing is rarely just physical. They talked about the pressure performers put on their bodies, about the pressure women put on themselves, about the expectations carried by those who come from marginalized backgrounds and feel they must always prove themselves worthy of the space they occupy. She cried more in those sessions than she expected, not from pain but from release.

One afternoon, after a particularly emotional session, she sat on a bench outside the clinic and watched people walking by, absorbed in their own lives. Some were rushing. Some were strolling. Some looked tired. Some looked lost. She realized everyone carried something unseen. Not just injuries to their bodies — but bruises on their hearts. And in that moment, she felt connected to something larger than Strictly, larger than her own disappointment. She felt connected to the shared human story of longing, loss, courage, and healing.

As her foot gradually strengthened, the emotional fog began to lift. She noticed she could walk a little farther without wincing. She noticed the swelling had gone down. She noticed that her laughter, which had felt forced in the immediate aftermath of her withdrawal, began to return with genuine warmth. She caught herself humming again while making tea. Her voice, once weighed down by grief, began to regain its natural lilt.

During this period, Strictly continued airing live every Saturday, and she wasn’t sure she could bear watching. The first two weeks, she avoided it entirely. The pain was still too raw. It wasn’t jealousy — it was grief. Watching the glittering world she had been a part of felt like watching a life she had lost. But eventually, curiosity tugged at her. On a quiet evening, wrapped in a blanket, foot elevated, she finally switched on the television.

As soon as the theme music played, she felt a surge of emotion rise in her chest. She watched the dancers spin, the lights twirl, the audience cheer, and for a moment her breath caught. But instead of breaking her, the sight soothed her. She saw the beauty she had been part of — a chapter she had not been robbed of, but blessed by. The ballroom no longer felt like a reminder of what she lost, but a celebration of what she gained: confidence she never knew she had, memories she would cherish forever, friendships forged under the pressure of sequins and sweat.

She watched her former partner dance with joy and pride, and instead of feeling replaced, she felt gratitude. He had helped her grow. He had believed in her. He had held her through her breaking point. She sent him a message thanking him for everything — a message she had been too emotional to write earlier. He responded with warmth, reminding her that their journey had mattered deeply to him as well.

And slowly, she began to reclaim her voice — not simply as a performer, but as a storyteller.

When she gave interviews about her Strictly exit months later, she spoke with emotional clarity. She didn’t hide her tears anymore. She didn’t apologize for her heartbreak. She allowed herself to feel deeply, openly, without shame. She shared what it meant to come so far only to be forced to stop. She shared what it meant to be vulnerable on a public stage. She shared what it meant to be human in an industry that often expects superhuman endurance.

Audiences responded with overwhelming compassion. They saw her not just as a performer, but as a person. A woman who had risked her heart by stepping into a competition known for pushing people beyond their limits. A woman who had danced through fear, doubt, and pain. A woman who had dared to dream loudly — even if the ending wasn’t the one she had imagined.

She was invited to speak on podcasts, panels, and morning shows, where she connected with audiences in a deeper way than she ever could have on the dance floor. She talked about the importance of listening to your body, the courage of knowing when to stop, and the strength it takes to admit the truth when your heart wants to keep going. She became a voice of empathy in a world where self-punishing endurance is often glorified.

She also found new creative outlets. She began writing a show — part comedy, part cabaret, part confessional storytelling. She wrote about Strictly, about her injury, about dreams interrupted and resilience rediscovered. She infused the script with humor, honesty, and emotional grit. She worked through scenes where she reenacted the moment she whispered “This is not how I wanted my journey to end,” turning it into something cathartic, something transformative.

During rehearsals for her new show, she noticed something remarkable: her body moved differently now. Not with the pressured force she had exerted on Strictly, but with freedom. Her foot, though once the source of pain, had healed stronger. Her movements were grounded in gratitude rather than expectation.

And when she finally premiered the show months later, stepping onto the stage with her signature confidence restored, she felt an electric rush of joy. Not the glittery adrenaline of Strictly, but a deeper, quieter joy — the joy of reclaiming herself.

She told her audience, through laughter and tears, that sometimes journeys end before we want them to because life is making room for something we didn’t know we needed. She said that Strictly didn’t break her — it revealed her. It showed her the strength behind the sparkle, the courage behind the costumes, the soul behind the sequins.

And the audience rose to their feet.

In the end, her Strictly journey did not end on the dance floor. It ended in a standing ovation for a woman who found beauty in heartbreak, resilience in vulnerability, and purpose in pain.

Her tears had once signaled loss. Now, they signaled transformation.

This was not how she wanted her journey to end.

But it was how she learned to begin again.