The behemoths of weekend TV entertainment suddenly have more in common than their bitter rivalry to win the ratings war.
In du Beke and Stephens respectively, Strictly (BBC1) and the X Factor (ITV1) have two men who share not only the same christian name, but an almost pathological desire to emerge victorious from the shows they find themselves competing in.
They additionlly share some pretty strange facial expressions, but more of those later.
For every man (and woman) who aspires to and achieves greatness in their lifetime, there is a moment in history when everything comes together, when they are in exactly the right place at the right time. Somehow events conspire to create an environment in which they will flourish and succeed to a degree they could once have only dreamed of. It happened with Churchill and World War 2. Is the same good fortune about to repeat itself with this pair?
Let's examine each of them in turn.
Anton du Beke belongs to another era when Britain was kinder, more innocent and civilised. The male of the species opened doors for ladies, they were dashing and said spiffing and top-hole a lot. That's precisely what Anton is. He's a dapper, top-hole type of chap, the sort who in-between entering dance competions at the Locarno Ballroom in Streatham would have made a simply splendid second hand car dealer - all charm and slightly oily sophistication - from the late 1950s.
Hardly an unfair comparison when you think about it. We're now in series 13 and over the past decade or so he's had more than a few clapped out wrecks he's been saddled with and has had to try and pass off to the unsuspecting viewers as sporty little numbers. Anne Widdecombe as a Jaguar E-Type? Perhaps not. Astaire himself would have had his work cut out there. And Anton's not quite in the same league as Fred. Although in Katie Derham, he's definitely found his Ginger Rogers.
Look at that smile at coming top of the leader board after the Viennese Waltz. For once it even appeared as if it were genuine.
On the subject of the beam bordering on a leer, have you ever wondered where the rictus Joker like grin came from? I have a theory it was the result of an unfortunate accident when in the style of Jack Napier, as played by Jack Nicolson in Tim Burton's Batman, he fell into a vat of comic book toxic smarm which left him permanently incapable of frowning.
There's another thing about him which is rather endearingly peculiar.
Unlike all the other professional dancers who are in typical work out gear, he trains in a suit, shirt and tie. OK, sometimes he throws caution to the sartorial wind and goes casual, replacing the jacket with a V-neck.
Doesn't he get hot? Doesn't he get sweaty? You get the impression that if he turned up for a gym spinning class, he'd be in plus fours, a fair isle sweater and a jaunty tweed cap because that's the sort of guy Anton is. Always dressed for the occasion. No matter if the occasion doesn't demand it.
His musical counterpart is also agreeably odd.
To begin with, Anton Stephens came across as plain annoying with his over the top vocal mannerisms and a mouth so large, accompanying orchestras could find themselves swallowed by it. Now, however, he's nothing short of plain wonderful. A former backing singer, he's had enough of being out of the spotlight.
Before he performed to gain his place in the last six of the over the hill category - basically anyone over the age of 12 -Simon piped up, "Here's my issue. When you go crazy, it kind of distracts me a bit".
Anton came back with a whip-smart comment about Botox aimed at the panel, but in particular the tight-skinned impresario who laughed nervously with of course no visible signs of any laughter lines.
Then Anton sang. And all at once it was as if no other version of A House Is Not a Home had ever been recorded.
"Anton now is your time", said Rita. "Yeah you might have crazy faces and yeah you might have crazy eyeballs, but they're your eyeballs and they're your faces and that's why it's awesome".
If the role of Miss Ora is to make Cheryl seem erudite, well, job magnificently done.
In a speech that could have come straight out of Dreamgirls, Anton was in full theatrical flow pleading for his position.
"I have spent my whole life trying to be somebody else, trying not to be somebody else's puppet. I can't be that, but I can work and I can change and what you call crazy, I think is passion. What you call crazy, I think is determination and wanting this. I want this. But I want you to believe in me because finally, finally I believe in me. You need to go Anton this is your chance and I'm not going to give it to anybody else. You need to do that".
Presumably not wishing to have the trademark white tee shirt torn from his manly torso by the baying mob he'd helped create, music's very own Nero delivered his verdict.
"The audience believe in you and do you know what, I believe in you and I want you to have that chair".
It maybe scripted and edited to within an inch of its life. It maybe exploitative. It maybe hopelessly sentimental. But finally, finally it's great television again. Cowell was looking for some kind of saviour, who could come to the rescue of his beleaguered programme and in this man he might have found them.
2015 is the year when every one of us should embrace our inner Antoness and realise our full potential to become the person we know we rightly are.
In the meantime, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls and family pets, vote in your millions and make Anton and Anton the champions they deserve to be.
If not dear God, it could be Peter Andre and Bupsi.