27 May 2008
Why? Baby disco is has come to town. Just when I thought those lovely spandex pedal pushers would never get another outing, I see my opportunity to look both manly and fashionable at the same time. Clever Daddy.
Then the doubts start to creep in... Actually it’s been a while since I was setting dance floors on fire, least of all with a 21 month old causing mayhem with my bend and snap. But hey I can pull this off. What have I got to lose apart from self esteem, six months off work with a fractured pelvis and the everlasting shame of being outdanced by a four-year-old wearing deelyboppers?
But no, I’ve decided to see it through. I am a man, and I shall take a stand for the constitutional right of fathers everywhere to make utter pillocks of themselves
Despite the naysayers and a quick call to my chiropractor that ends in finger-pointing acrimony and quite possibly a lawsuit. I decide to book, because life, as my good friend Johnny Chase told me, is for the adventurous.
I dig out the old vinyl, classic funk and dance gems from years gone by, not for the practise, mind, I definitely don’t need it. The memories of my classy record collection brings a tear to the eye. Roy Ayers, Grace Jones, Joe Dolce. Zoikes, didn’t I have amazin’ taste back in the day.
Practice, practice, practice. Only three months to go until I break out my jaw-dropping robot/disco duck moves in front of a crowd of non-plussed nippers. Will it end in tears? Not if I double stitch my disco pants it won’t.
Dancin’ dontcha just love it?
Next time: the slipped disc is coming on well, now I just need to wait for the knee op.