Dancing queen

My dancing seems to have come under a certain amount of scrutiny in recent days. The girl responsible for the 'looking 38' comment which resulted in my hair dyeing, commented that my dancing reminded her of dancing with her clients, unfortunately she is a social worker who works with people with severe learning disabilities and uses the medium of dance to calm and placate them. Another referred to me as a 'dance bully' due to my continued attempts to cajole people into joining me on the dance floor. I'd always assumed people respected my dancing, they always back away to leave a space fo me to do my thing, and avert their gaze as if glancing my Swayzesque form might scorch their eyes.

Went to see Art Brut on saturday, their ironic lyrics and delivery remind me a little of the Lovely Brothers, but they have managed to attain that quality of cool that has always alluded us, and when I say cool I refer particularily to the fact that the lead singer had a following of cute girls staring at him with adoration. Needless to say I got drunk and jumped around like a fool. Managed to fall all the way down the stairs, on getting up I thought I could still preserve my dignity and maybe convince anyone that had seen that it was intentional (it was certainly faster than walking down them), I brushed myself off and promptly slipped over again. On the way home I accosted every passerby for tobacco informing them of their rubbishness when they hadn't any, resulting in me being frog marched away by Simon for fear of being accosted myself. The crowning moment was talking to a girl on the bus, and for some unknown reason trying to sing a song about buttons that I couldn't quite remember, she turned round and desperately tried to start a conversation with the person behind her.