I Don’t Feel Like Dancing

I never thought I’d resort to quoting a Scissor Sisters song, but it has come to this. I can actually empathise with Jake as he croons “You'd think that I could muster up a little soft-shoe gentle sway, but I don’t feel like dancin’, no sir, no dancin’ today.”I normally put my inability to dance down to a lethal combination of poor footwear choices, acute self-awareness and self-loathing, (the greatest of the “selfs” I like to think). However here are some of the more universal reasons why you might not be donning those dancing shoes in Durham:

1. The music. Slumped dejectedly against the Academy staircase surveying the writhing flesh below I noted the terrible music they were playing. Some awful song with lyrics that went “I am no angel, I like it when you do that stuff to me” hahahaWHAT?! You expect me to dance to this sh*t, Academy? Surely I can’t be the only person out there who would secretly love to dance in that club from the video to Pulp’s “Common People”. That’s all I want Durham. Just someplace with a floor that lights up and Jarvis Cocker twitching about to something with a TUNE. I know, I know we’ve got “Itchy Feet”, but that just isn’t regular enough. Also, contrary to popular opinion The Fratellis “Chelsea Dagger” has to stop being played for a bit. Could we just get a two-year ban at the very least? And finally on the topic of banning songs: “Don’t Stop Believin’” please for the love of God no more. FYI it’s not “Durham’s song” it’s “every uni circa 2009’s song”. I have quietly not given a sh*t about this for too long; if Klute play it one more time I am going to storm the DJ box and destroy that man’s extensive S-Club collection as punishment.

2. The sexual Rubicon that is the dance-floor. So named because once you cross it there’s no going back. My friends have even developed a special dance move called “the sex rumba” which involves non-descript shuffling and compulsory lip-biting, whilst scoping the area for decent male specimens. It’s one of the most depressing things I’ve witnessed this term (although it comes a close second after I saw a woman actually drag a man out of the club by his actual tongue to “Moves like Jagger” by Maroon 5, a sobering sight). Distressingly, I was forced to accompany my friend in doing the sex rumba the other day but refused to play along properly and instead walked around the dance floor, scanning the crowd and bluntly going “no, no, DEFINITELY NOT, move along”. Why sugar-coat these things?

3. Weird men. Yes. Sexually-deprived, slavering men who try to dry-hump you on the dance-floor. I know I said we shouldn’t sugar-coat but come on guys, play it cool. It’s really not ok for you to dance around me and my friends in a circle, survey the group and go “yeah there’s some good tits here” and close in. No! This does not put me in a dancing mood. I often feel like whacking out my rape alarm on the dance-floor. What’s more alarming is that I have seen plenty of friends fall into the trap of “hahaha let’s all dance together in a weird group with some men having a clear mid-life crisis, this will surely be hilarious” and they see NOTHING WRONG with being casually felt up by these men. I take a different path: violence. Ladies, they won’t be able to hear that well-rehearsed feminist speech on not being objectified or how “this is exactly why you participated in the Slut Walks…” over the blaring synth so just go for a good round-house kick to the groin ok? I blame the winning combo of sociopath and claustrophobe for bringing out my violent streak.

It seems to me that “Durham nightlife” has become a bitter pejorative. Sadly I think the closest I got to actually dancing this week was when I succumbed to a semi-schizophrenic outburst when someone spilt my extortionately over-priced “skittles” drink all over me. I haven’t been that angry in a while.