With Magic Mike finally preparing to grace our eyeballs on this most hallowed Orange Wednesday, it only seems fitting that there should be a tribute to all those that came scantily-clad onto our screens before Channing Tatum and Co. – with no further foreplay, BFF presents our Top 10 Movie Strippers of All Time.

You just got served… a drink! In celebration of StreetDance 2 hitting our screens this weekend, we’ve gathered up our fave ever dance flicks, along with plenty of delicious alcohol, and decided to dance like no one’s watching. Except they are. They’re watching and they’re judging and they’re doing shots depending on how it all goes down…

Everyone loves Stanley Tucci. You know him, he’s the little bald chap in The Devil Wears Prada. And the little bald chap in Julie & Julia. And the little bald chap in Burlesque. And the not-bald paedophile in The Lovely Bones. See? That’s how good an actor he is – sometimes he acts HAVING HAIR. He’s not actually gay, either. Feeling ignorant? Come inside…

Hollywood’s busiest and worst actor is at it again, with two films out this week alone (he filmed them both at the weekend). But does the wreckage of a once great actor lurk somewhere within Cage’s permatanned skull, forever besieged with gruesome memories of Season of the Witch and National Treasure: Book of Secrets? You’ll have to read on to find out… [SPOILER: probably not]

Could it be that the infamous Showgirls has been treated unfairly by the mean-eyed beast that is history? We look at the classic B-Movie with a critical eye, and see how it matches up to other, celebrated, sequin-fests…

This Bollywood movie ticks all the boxes. There’s jewels. There’s dancing. There’s more glitter than you can shake a stick at. Ignore the terrible subtitles and a plot that’s holier than Gouda, and enjoy the intertextual extravaganza which manages to reference Kill Bill, The Matrix and the Three Stooges.

And Colin won Best Actor. Well done Colin. We love you.

How would you define ‘guilty pleasure’? Listening to ABBA? Stealing Pick’n’Mix? Cutting up orphans and dissolving them in an acid bath? Those are all valid examples of guilty pleasures, but now that Burlesque exists they only qualify thanks to the same sort of linguistic technicality which allows us to simultaneously describe both Ann Widdecombe and Natalie Portman as ‘people’. More addictive than crack and less than half as nutritious, Burlesque is a whole new filthy world of awesome.