Watt knot 2 where

I am not in America, barring Xtreem unnoticed continental drift.

Dahlings, it has been too short a time since last I wrote to you, but suck this up anyway.

Packing time is here and all is not well. Mother dearest demands that she be allowed to iron creases into all my undergarments, seriously inhibiting the efficiency of my packing algorithms. Moreover, many questions remain unanswered. Do they sell muffs in Freedom, or should I pack my own, lest my delicate fingers succumb to the cold and snap off? What is Freedom's customs policy on human skin, should I shed mine before leaving? Will there be an apple pie baking test on arrival?

But this isn't why we're here today; we're here to talk dancing. Actually I'll talk and you'll listen. Actually I'll write and you read. For this is the wonder of the blog.

As a recent and highly successful exponent of busting out and ripping up I have taken some time to notice and catalogue the fascinating varieties of animals that call the dancefloor home.

There is a plague of Daves. In general the Dave appears in two varieties, 'big Dave' and 'little Dave'. Both are easily identified by their unpleasant musk and protruding belly. They are often to be found jumping, instigating waves of pushing, roaring "Chooooon" and salivating on the opposite sex. Daves can sometimes be found accompanied by a smaller female, notable for their thick layer of tribal paint, profuse adornments and a cry that puts hyaenas to shame. These features allow them to be identified by the other inebriated members of their pack if they become separated in the dark. Thankfully the Dave has a short dancing lifetime: its diet of beer quickly makes the belly too cumbersome for dancing, forcing it into a bleak twilight existence of mortgage, children and package holidays.

Slightly rarer, but still very common is the sentinel. Unlike the Dave, the sentinel has already found a mate and so stands tall and alert keeping careful watch over her as she dances with her friends. Pint in hand he endures the venue and generally gets in everyone's way while wearing a lost and mournful expression. Occasionally if jostled he can be coaxed into a protective display, reducing the pitch of his voice several octaves to growl an unconvincing threat.

Amidst the casual violence and skipping of a full on club night, one may see, if one knows where to look, a clearing at the centre of which stands a Princess. The result of countless years of inshopping, the Princess is a self confirmed cut above the other dancers. Idly pirouetting and fluidly undulating her arms above her head, perfectly out of time with the music, her eyes closed, face tilted upwards and nostrils flared, she weaves an illusion. She is a swan, gliding on a perfectly still lake, she is a white mare galloping across the plain, she is Peter Mandelson in a dress.

Rarest of all are people 'there because they enjoy dancing'. Certainly these are extinct in many venues.

It is interesting that so many people seem to go dancing in the hope of finding a suitable mate. The benefits of pulling in a noxious hole where it's too dark and you're too drunk to tell if you've landed a three times world champion simpleton with a face designed by Domino's pizza are far from clear. When you wake up the next morning in their heavily stained bed with your face nestled in their armpit and their knee comfortably jammed into your genitals, your only possible salvation is that you had so many WKDs that you are still drunk. Perhaps I am too harsh, maybe some people don't flee but sit down together for a bowl of rice krispies with congealed milk to discover shared interests in eulogising the Guardian, protest marches and generally being another hopeless example of conformity amongst the University set.

As a bonus for reading this far, my top three dancing tips are:

1. Jump from foot to foot really fast. It is impossible, by definition, to fall over when in the air, so maximise your flight time.

2.Wave your arms at imaginary bees. Looks cool and has the added benefit of knocking pints out of people's hands.

3. Wiggle your hips like you've sprayed deep heat into your underpants. Or if you really want to impress take a can of deep heat with you and show everyone that you're the genuine article.

Up yours Grandma.