"God match me with a good dancer." William Shakespere
I learnt to dance over the top of the co-op in Chislehurst (Kent) back in nineteen boaty-trim and it’s the best thing I ever did. To go into something relatively a blank page and come out the other end (to work the metaphor) as a readable novel is a fantastic and life enriching experience. Back when I learnt to dance Ballroom was not a fashionable pastime... but it has put me in good stead and although I went of in a different direction with my career in lyrical and jazz ballet, I have always said I built on the foundation ballroom gave me.
I’m not the only one who loves a bit of ballroom, 46.8% of the British television audience settle down every Saturday night to watch Strictly come Dancing. Of course Ballroom (ever since 1992 when the Baz Luhrmann film came out and changed EVERYTHING) has got it’s sexy on!
Yep... settle down to watch Strictly results show an what am I greeted with... 5 very beautiful young girls gyrating to Beyonce in a fashion that would not look out of place at spearmint rhino. There was a time when dirty dancing was dirty and one had to comb the back alleys of Soho to find the likes of The Paul Raymond Revue bar in the hope of finding five ladies on stage cavorting in a provocative manner whilst in a state of obvious undress. But dancing provocatively has (thanks to MTV and its imitators) had gone mainstream and there is nothing dirty to be found in dancing anymore.
Or is there?
Whilst Aunty Beeb finds partially naked dancers perfect Sunday family viewing, middle England feels this may not be the case.
Six days ago, I was contacted by a national paper for my comments (as a ballroom trained ex MTV dancer... oh yes I am partially responsible for the moral decline of dance!). You see Aunty Beeb received an ‘avalanche’ of complaints regarding one particular dance... well just under 300 complaints... but for 300 folk to ring up and complain about the sexualised content of a ball room dance.... well that was quite something.
Of course being a dedicated ex-dancer... where was I last Saturday? In front of my TV dissecting dances on Strictly? Of course not! I was at my dear friend Annabel’s 30th Birthday party dancing MY night away. So a rather ratty national newspaper person instructs me to watch a sequence that is being sent over to my comp-u-tata post haste and come back with something quotable.
I logged on, expecting to see some pretty eastern European dancing the rumba in a chiffon curtain... (when oh when are people gonna get over the fact this Cuban/African dance IS the dance of sexual desire and nothing but nothing is gonna make it look pure!)... but then I heard the strains of the music.
Ba... ba.ba.ba....bah ba....Ba.ba.ba.ba.bah....
I’m sorry... is that not Michael Jackson’s Bad? Hang on that can’t be anyone’s Rumba! The Rumba is danced on a 2,3,4 beat. Michael Jackson’s Bad is a classic 1,2 beat... it’s a march .... THAT is the sound of a bloody Paso Doble. What on earth can a girl do in a Paso that will get middle England complaining in their droves?? Paso Doble is danced with high chest, the shoulders wide and down, and with the head kept back but inclined slightly forward and down, the weight is forward, but most forward steps have heel leads.... in other words... gyrating with sexual abandon is really not much of an option. I prepared myself for what on earth costume had outraged 300 souls good and true to contact the BBC with those angry statements that always begin: “I consider myself to be very broadminded but even I can see that the children need protecting from this FILTH!!!”
But the costume department seemed innocent of all charges... the very beautiful (and inescapably sexy) Ola Jordon seemed to be pretty well clothed (only an exposed toned tummy on display) and her partner the Welsh footballer Robbie Savage seemed to be exposing not much more than a gym body chest... and okay the red trousers may have offended the fashionista in us all... but 300 complaints??? No way!
Then it happened.
Robbie thrust his hips in a manor most unbecoming of a matador (which is the role a man takes in this stompy dance) and then grabbed his own crotch... and again... and again... and then ad infinitum until... he thrust it with wild abandon into the face of judge Craig Revel Horwood.
Ah....
I see.
Oh.
Robbie was rewarded for executing Ola’s rather unusual interpretation of the Paso with a four out of ten from Craig.
Kind of just rewards really... what on earth they were thinking! But was it really any more shocking a routine than the one I witnessed a few moments ago with five pro dancers gyrating like billy-oh?
Well I suppose it was... and to be honest it had nothing to do with the proximity of a judge’s face to a competitor’s crutch. It was to do with the somewhat recent development of men as dancers... not just dancers... but as dancers with a rather obvious sexual agenda.
Back in the day, it was always girls who gyrated, auditioning how well their bodies could move... with a sexual agenda obviously. The men... where were the men?... oh they were there...watching, whilst gripping a pint tightly. A man certainly never danced... and if he did it was a display of semi rhythmic gymnastics – this would be performed only with other men and NEVER (I repeat) NEVER for the whole duration of a tune. He’d do his trade mark thing, nod to the guys and it’s be over – back to gripping beer tightly. This led to one of the saddest but common sights of the 70s, 80s, 90s and noughties... groups of dolled up women dancing with each other. Oh what a waste of sexy womanhood!
However the times have moved on these days public displays of free-form gyration and groove to loud music seems to be the right of every man! (Or at least every man under 45!) Finally men figured out that dancing is masculine. To dance well, one needs good health, poise, co-ordination, stamina, strength, athleticism, rhythm, balance, suppleness, speed, style and an ability to predict and react to the movements of others. Interestingly enough, all these things are also what make something men are wired to be impressed by - a good fighter. And so it has come to pass that men are heading to the dance floor to impress each other by busting a move.
Oh yes... the days of circles of women dancing round piles of hand bags are over. Men have finally figured out that a bit of hip action is exactly what it takes to be a real man (and attract the ladies).
Women are wired to be canny creatures, they choose men based on DNA... who is the strongest, the tallest, most muscular, what ever it takes to ensure that the offspring they are wired to carry will have the best chance of survival. But nature is a woman too... she wired women to be most attracted to the men who could dance... just to ensure making those off spring be as attractive a prospect as possible.
However... Robbie Savage... in bright red trousers thrusting his hips in Craig face?
Well... “I consider myself to be very broadminded but even I can see that the children need protecting from this FILTH!!!”
Loool!!!
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