Having just spoken in another thread about having danced the Can-Can (Bad Manners version, naturally - I am a ska fan, after all...), I thought I'd post this.

I'm short, fat and white. After a childhood of humiliation at family get-togethers (in a line on the floor doing some stupid boat thing to the Gap Band's Oops Upside Your Head), I developed a great aversion to the whole rhythmic movement thing.

Over time, I developed what I happily referred to as "the only dance I will ever do". I call it The Limpet.
It's very easy: find a chair, sit on it and only move when it's safe to do so.

Having said that, take a glance at an earlier comment of mine. That's right, the one about ska.
If there's some good ska playing, then I will have a go. OK, so it generally helps that all it involves is bouncing up and down with arms going everywhere, but it's not The Limpet, is it? Unfortunately, most weddings etc tend to be a little shy of these tunes, so it's a rare occasion when these things happen.

But an actual gig? great stuff.

I went to a ska night some years back with a couple of friends. Bad Manners were headlining (pre-slimming days) supported by two other bands Colonel Hathi (now defunct, sadly) and... er... someone else.
Partway into the first act, it was like a switch had been flicked. All of a sudden, from a state of standing around, nodding slightly, everyone in the room was bouncing around like lunatics.
And we didn't stop. Even between sets, there was a compilation disc playing, so we carried on dancing to that.
It was hot and cramped, with poor ventilation and beer on the floor. People were collapsing every now and then through heat, beer or slippage.
I did quite well, until a couple of tracks from the end. 'Lip Up Fatty' had just begun and a recognition-fuelled bolt of adrenaline fooled me into believing things were ok. Seconds later, my right leg gave up. Nothing drastic; it just didn't fancy any more of this 'dancing' lark. I completed a neat 90-degree sweep and found myself lying sideways on the floor. In the meantime, my left leg was completely unaware of events and was still dancing away...

The gig over, we piled into the car and drove home, stopping on the way at a garage to get some supplies. It took us a couple of minutes to get out of the car, mind you, and I reckon the late-night attendant nearly shit himself when he saw us three shuffling across the forecourt like refugees from 'Thriller'...

Ah, those were the days. I hit 40 next year, and The Limpet is looking more and more attractive. More so than 'Dad-dancing, anyway.