I Haven't Stopped Dancing Yet

It's an old article but I'm feeling lazy so, what the heck

I haven't but it's probably about time that I did! A night in a club now means 2 days in bed - alone I hasten to add. It's one or the other now on a Friday night and needless to say I'm doing more dancing than shagging. But hey, I've been at it longer.

In (a rough) order I've done:The Skinhead Moonstomp. All in a row with Max Romeo and Judge Dread on the sound system.

I've back-flipped at the Casino and I've even taken talc to the school disco to polish the floor. I've flipped and twirled and back-dropped with the best of the 3rd year.

At the same places I've banged my head to Paranoid by Sabbath and flounced all over the floor to LA Woman and played air guitar to Freebird.

Quo has come and gone and I've pogoed over dancefloors and concert halls with the best that 1976 could offer.

I've shimmied and sashayed across the floor at Crackers in Wardour Street on a Friday afternoon with the best jazz funk dancers you've ever seen and then shirked off out of the way knowing that I'd never be that good.

I've skanked to Madness and The Specials and I've done "the bogle" with beautiful black girls.

And I've swayed in sync with thousands of others at the court of the king Bob Marley and I've been blown away by Tapper Zukie and Burning Spear.

I've worn a long raincoat and stared at my shoes while Ian Curtis made the whole fucking earth move with his presence.

I've dove from the stage at the Marquee on a Saturday and been in the groove with Soul II Soul on the Sunday at the African Centre.

I've been out in fields with thousands of others and I'm somewhere in the middle of 100,000 when the Fun Lovin' Crims did that version of "Scooby Snacks".

I've pogoed to The Mondays and The Roses.

I've sat down for James and I've banged my head to Primal Scream.

I've danced the ceilidh at Irish weddings and been drenched in beer in the front row of The Pogues.

And gazed at the sky while the Floyd played away and dodged the flowers when Mozza spoke.

I've toned down the flips and backdrops to the Northern grooves (but still I'm out there) and I've waved my hands in the air at dodgy techno clubs.

I've been dragged onto the floor of office parties, done the okey cokey and the twist with Tessa the temp.

I've gazed in awe at the girls on stage. From Debbie to Courtney and all stops in between.

I've danced to acid jazz and been transformed back into an 18-year old punk by The Libertines.

Been on the floor to sweaty funk and smooched to dirty old soul.

But whatever I've done I'm still there. So, you youngsters, when you see us 40somethings trying to "strut our stuff" don't mock because you'll be there one day. If you're not then it's your fault. Dancing (to whatever) is fucking great. Some think it's not cool to dance but those that think that are wrong. Dancing is one of the great things in life and if you give up dancing then you give up on life itself.

Now, where's my Zimmer Frame?