This is the BBC.

Hello, I'm Kristi Young.

Welcome to Desert Island Discs, where every week I ask my guests to choose the eight tracks, the book and the luxury item

that they'd want to take with them if they were cast away on a desert island.

For rights reasons, the music on these podcast versions is shorter than in the original broadcast.

You can find over 2,000 more editions to listen to and download on the Desert Island Discs website.

Music

My cast away this Christmas is the choreographer Bruno Tarnoli.

As a judge on that sequined juggernaut of a show, strictly come dancing, he has become a household name,

playing it big, broad, bold and brassy, shamelessly flirting with contestants and the camera,

brimful of heart and good humour.

His highly entertaining stick has made him a TV star on the American version 2.

His parents wanted him to be an accountant.

You heard me, but in truth, he has always liked putting on a show.

In small town Northern Italy, as his beloved Noena cooked up Pizzeli alla pancetta for the family,

little Bruno would dance on the kitchen table and later as a teenager, when the only disco in town opened its doors,

he would squire the most glamorous local girls onto the dance floor, causing a stir with his flamboyant get-ups and slinky moves.

By the mid-70s, he was making a living dancing professionally, touring the capitals of Europe with a raunchy stage show.

Within a decade, he progressed to playing his trade as a choreographer, working with everyone from the Rolling Stones to Steve Cougan.

He says, when I jump over desks and shout and faint and fall over myself with excitement, I don't have a self-censorship button.

That filter got broken for good a long time ago, probably.

When I heard my uncle Silvano swearing and bitching like a docker in the Tonyoly home.

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