Wednesday, 21 September 2011
But only because I am the man with three. I have two that compete with each other for each of the steps and the third simultaneously tramples my partner's feet and is the only part of me that has any syncopating rhythm at all. If she is wearing shoes with closed toes, she will merely end up with crushed toe boxes but if she is wearing open-toed shoes, then she's in for a real battering and, instead of a number on the back of my coat, there should be a health warning, since I am far more perilous out there than any cigarette and one or two women have even taken up smoking again in the aftershock of the experience of having danced with me.
Fortunately, dancing is not all that important (unless you happen to make a living at it) and, anyway, er, real men don't dance, do they? If you need any reassurance on any of this, I highly recommend P G Wodehouse's short story "The Man With The Two Left Feet".
It is a heart-warming little tale and, for reasons that will now be obvious, one of my favourite short reads.
Today's picture is a still from the Band Wagon, of Fred Astaire and Cyd Charisse, "Dancing in The Dark".
Posted by NJS at 10:23