At the risk of turning Tube Ray Army into a group therapy session, if there's one thing I've always regretted in my life, it's not having been one of those dancing children.

You know, the kids who did jazz ballet, tap and acrobatics. The ones who brought in their spangled leotards for show and tell, and who were interviewed in the local newspaper about making it into the under-10s division of the Victorian ballroom dancing championships.

I always pretended to hate those kids, but secretly, I wanted to be them.

Consequently I have grown up with a deep and abiding admiration for dancers, whether classical, modern, interpretive or ballroom - and any opportunity to watch their magic at work on television has always been enthusiastically jumped at.

Traditionally, this meant long, hard years with little other than the Boxing Day Dancesport Championships to satisfy my hunger. There were brief bursts of dance-related television - in 1989 and 1990, praying for feather-flying collisions on the floor of That's Dancing! was a particular mid-childhood favourite, though I once got severely chastised for throwing my sock at the television in disgust when my chosen couple didn't win.

Then there was the strange ABC and Southern Star partnership of the early-'00s, Strictly Dancing, which never really knew if it was an amateur hour freak-show (Weird looking breakdancers! Nannas wearing spangles!) or a serious paean to the world of (semi) professional dancing, with bizarre expert voiceovers that were so earnest they came out the other side again and turned into pisstakes:



Plus it was hosted by Paul "Insincere" McDermott, which didn't help.

These days, I can work through my childhood dance deficiency at least four times a year: Channel Ten brings us both the local and US franchises of So You Think You Can Dance, and Seven seems to begin another series of Dancing With The Stars immediately the last one has crowned its winner.

I am most definitely more of a fan of SYTYCD; it taps into that intoxicating fantasy that has been sold to us since 42nd Street and Singin' In The Rain right through Fame, Flashdance and A Chorus Line: if you try hard enough, mix in a little luck and pixie dust, and a plucky attitude, you could be a star.

Plus it gave us Sex:



Dancing, on the other hand, is less down to earth - the celebrities go on and on about how hard they're trying, and how they really want to have the best rumba ever seen in the history of the world, but it is ultimately only an entertainment. Yes, it's a "competition", but what's really at stake, other than some 1900 dollars for charities? Once the winner has been crowned, everyone returns to Sunrise/Home & Away/the MCG and life continues.

SYTYCD, you have to admit, does change the lives (whether generally or professionally) of its charges. They meet influential choreographers. Each week, they essentially audition in front of the entire nation (or world's) entertainment industry.

However, having watched the first installment of the latest Dancing With The Stars not long after checking in with the latest US missive from SYTYCD, I've realised why I prefer the latter over the former.

Dancing With The Stars is obsessed with its looks.

More specifically, the way the female "professionals" look. They are all slim, pert and perky. They are dressed in CRYSTALLIZED™ Swarovski bra tops wherever possible and while they are always trumpeted as being the best in their fields (and indeed, some of them are), I can't help but feel they have also been chosen because they are the My First Ballroom Barbies of the professional dance world.

The season promo demonstrates this rather chillingly, as the professionals are reduced to little more than body parts:



(Admittedly, body parts that apparently fart magical fairy dust.)

SYTYCD is more real. Yes, Nigel is happy to go on about how certain girls are beautiful, but dance ability (at least 98% of the time) wins out. I'm quite happy to discuss with you that I watch SYTYCD because I am captivated by dancers' bodies. Season 3's Lacey and her thighs of magic in particular. 



But the dancers on SYTYCD come in every shape, colour and size, with one thing in common: breathtaking ability. They also have personalities, background stories, captivating tales to tell (and thighs of magic). Dancing With The Stars' "professionals" are rarely even given the airtime to talk outside of the pre-performance packages. They are there to look good, and to make their celebrity partners look good. For someone passionate about dancing and dancers, it's depressing viewing.

So, while Dancing With The Stars might continue to suck in the ratings with its stunt casting and flashy outfits, I'll be sticking with So You Think You Can Dance - give me the American Dream over celebrity timewasting any day.