Wednesday, 7 November 2012

Dancing Queen...

There are a few things in life I don’t get or understand. Well, there’s more than a few, but some really make me scratch my head.

Why would someone steal my bin cupboard keys? They’ve been there for months, and have become a bit of a joke between the lads ("You’ve left your keys in the door"), but ultimately are useless as the only thing they open is the bin cupboard, yet some bugger has nicked them!

I also found out recently that people in the Melbourne area of Australia get the day off for the Melbourne cup. This is a 3 mile horse race that last’s under 4 minutes yet they get the day off for it. Even I last longer than 4 minutes!! And trust me I get no reward for that!

Also, why is it that if a bloke can dance, or even just wants to dance, they are automatically assumed to be gay?

Speaking of which I called my mate a homosapien the other day for the way he acted and he reacted angrily stating he likes women!! He’s either insecure or just not that bright.

Anyway, I like to dance. I didn’t used to. I was embarrassed about dancing in fact. Because of this embarrassment I was very rigid, not robotic rigid as that would be quite cool, but more like proper old Dad dancing. Shoulders still, arms moving, feet planted to the floor. Everyone has seen their Dad or some older male relative dance!
I have grown out of this embarrassment though and thought so what if I make a fool out of myself. If people think I have rhythm then that works for me and if I make them laugh at my antics that equally works for me. Winner, winner chicken dinner!

Now I am known within my circle of friends as the Bingley dancer. The nightspot where we go as a group knows me for that also. It has produced many a top night where people either admire me for my moves, take the piss or think sod it I’m joining him and try to compete.

Usually the dance floor is empty upon arrival and the three amigos settle into the pocket in the corner near the DJ and we pester him for certain tracks. Then when I’ve had enough alcohol to no longer care, I enter the dance floor and start moving to the track that’s on. Silly dance moves, but always to the beat or the rhythm, designed to make people laugh or smile but also think he’s a good little mover.

I remember once going to a party and dancing to JLS with my girlfriend at the time – we had some moves going on – so much so people thought we were professional even though we were just being silly!

Over the last 12 months I have had some very strange encounters. I had a young couple film me without my knowledge then approach me afterwards telling me I had a talent and they were going to post the video on YouTube. I have no idea if it ever went online, it certainly didn’t go viral!

I have also participated in various dance offs as well. I used to have this kind of dance off with my bro. He is the mild mannered one of the two of us, but when he’s drunk his personality becomes very similar to mine and we try to out do each other. Many a time we have had a dance off, but usually he just ends up in his boxers on the dance floor – it’s the only way he can win!

I had a dance off with a bloke the other week. He was drunker than I was and wanted to out do me. He tried. Veni, Vidi, Vici!! The more effort he put in the more I ramped up the pace until he was on his knees and I claimed the victory – albeit a small personal one, but a victory none the less.

Although I’m now thinking if the dance off becomes a common occurrence I’m going to ask if we can have a day off, like the Melbourne Cup, to celebrate Bingley Dancing! It lasts around the same time, but we can have a big festival/party all day for that 3-4 minute event!

The one track that all three of the amigos dance to is ‘Call Me Maybe’ by Carly Rae Jepson. If that track comes on we are straight on the dance floor – and the DJ now knows this and so strategically plays it at a certain point in the night. This is usually when people have decided to join me on the dance floor and I am no longer centre of attention so I usually slope off for a cig.

"… I threw a wish in a well; don’t ask me I’ll never tell…"

Suddenly, whatever the amigos are doing is stopped and we rush to the dance floor! If you’re mid piss (one in, one out at time of night), then you have to break off and go dance! Sod the wet patch that is left, for that 3 and a half minutes you don’t have a care in the world!

The most bizarre moment was when a woman came up to me who was also a regular at the aforementioned night spot. Like some ACME cartoon character she suddenly appeared out of nowhere and stood to attention like the Road Runner…

"You are amazing, you are…"
"Errr, thanks…"
"You could win Britain’s Got Talent with your moves!"
"Haha, yeah ok."
"You could, I would vote for you!"
"Thanks again… I think"
"I need you to teach my friends to dance!"
"Yes, they can’t dance and I’ve told them about you and you can teach them. What songs do you like?"
"Anything, nothing, I don’t know… Katy Perry???"

And as quick as she was there she was gone! The lads had overheard the conversation and naturally, as I would have done, took the piss.

Then 10 minutes later, when it was all forgotten about …

"You just gotta ignite the light and let it shine, Just own the night like the 4th of July, ‘cos baby you’re a fiiiiiiiiiirework…."

Out of the corner of my eye I saw this mad woman urging me to dance, telling me I asked for the song and I should dance now! I asked her if I was some kind of trained chimp, but that fell on deaf ears! I looked sideways at my mates, who were in fits of laughter but urging me to dance at the same time.

I thought what the hell… So I danced my little heart out.

I then looked across the dance floor and two balding, middle aged men were moving to the beat, looking in my direction, copying everything I did! They weren’t too shabby to be honest, but I was shocked.

I did what anyone would do though and upon seeing them copying my moves I went into overdrive and gyrated, shimmied, shook and pulled out all my best moves to dazzle them… either that or give them a heart attack!

I had sweat pouring off me, a crowd had gathered, people were taking pictures and filming me, but I carried on. I looked over at the two portly gentlemen dying as they tried to keep up. They wanted a teacher of the fine arts, well they got one and they were thrown in the deep end just like Mr Miyagi did with Daniel!

The track finally stopped. A massive round of applause broke out as the two men slumped to the floor, defeated. The crowd surged forward patting me on the back, wanting a piece of me, they lifted me off my feet and carried me on their shoulders to the bar where I was bought drink after drink, and champagne flowed… For that moment I was a hero amongst my peers…

Ok, so that entire last paragraph was totally made up, but it should have happened like that!!

Instead I got one person come up to me after and say I was a good dancer, and because I was a good dancer and I was male I must therefore be gay! I get this almost weekly now and have stopped disagreeing. It’s easier then trying to convince people otherwise.

So, 2012 was the year that the Bingley Gay Dancer was born and he can dance, he can jive, having the time of his life… See that girl boy; watch that scene, diggin' the dancing queen!!!

No comments:

Post a Comment