I Can’t Dance

Dance Kick To The BallsIt’s a young man’s game, dancing. It marks your territory. It shows the opposite sex that you are agile and by association, fertile. It also makes you look like a complete and utter cock.

When was the last time you saw someone knocking out some moves to some music and thought to yourself “Fuck me, what a mover”? Never? Thought not. That’s because people who CAN dance know they can from a very early age.

I’m not talking the foxtrot or the tango, or any of the other letters form the phonetic alphabet. I’m talking 1:30 AM, horrible little nightclub, godforsaken little town. And you will fall into one of the following categories.

1) The restrained mover
Birds do it. Blokes do it. Educated fleas, however, leave it alone. You know the one, stand up tall, elbows slightly bent. Rock your weight gently from side to side in time to the music. Point a bit. Sing along if you know the words. If you don’t, it doesn’t matter; no one can hear you anyway.

This dance is the prototype of all the dances, as everyone can do it. Christmas parties are renowned for it, and from a distance look like one of those Korean demonstrations put on by the kids, thousands of people moving in time.

2) The unrestrained mover
Or the annoying cunt, as they’re known. Just fucking go. Bollocks to everyone else who’ve paid out their hard earned cash to populate this shitty little room. THEY ARE IN THE WAY. WHEREVER YOU GO. THIS IS YOUR FLOOR. YOU ARE (in your own mind) TRAVOLTA.

The major cause of fights is the unrestrained mover. More lager is spilled on a Saturday night in Ritzy’s because of this twat than blood was shed in both Gulf Wars. He swings, roams and freaks out in every square foot of floor space.

Not only that though, he takes every lyric literally. Rainbows? Big arc drawn above his head. Get down? He does, and sorts of twists on the spot to show his skills. Tossbag.

3) The non-runner
He just stands and taps. One hand in pocket, other clenching an expensive lager. Generally suited and booted to a high standard, and will attract women no-end.

He likes to look like he “can’t be arsed”, when in reality he wants to dance but is frightened of making a dick of himself. He has no rhythm, so dancing is for fools.

You may have noticed that the first category was asexual. Women are only ever category one. Men can be all three. Women won’t dance at all if they feel they can’t, but by only doing a pale imitation of dancing they all seem very capable.

Personally, I go through the list 3-1-2 depending on how pissed I am. I know I can’t, but then beer takes over and I think I might be able to if I concentrate. Then it seems easy, so onto stage 2, which causes me to be covered in lager by the end of the night. I generally know when to draw the line before hostilities develop.

So, next time your throwing shapes, see which one you are. If you’re a bird, then 1. Blokes, any of the 3. Try not to bump into me though, you stinking number 2s.

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J.A. Laraque

J.A. Laraque is a freelance writer and novelist. His passion for writing mixed with a comedic style and intelligent commentary has brought him success in his various endeavors. Whatever the subject, J.A. has an opinion on it and will present it in writing with an insight and flair that is both refreshing and informative.