Sickly Come Dancing

Is it just me or is our culture perpetually kidding itself that it thinks dancing is a really important aspect of being human?

I’m not just talking about the obsession the captain from wall.e had either, this goes back to the whole notion of watching people on TV dancing, going to clubs and getting really sweaty in an attempt to pull equally sweaty members of whichever sex you fancy, traditional dances still being supported after centuries of redundancy, the macarena, the cha cha slide, the electric slide, the electric chair, musical chairs, musical bumps, Mr. Bumps, Mr. Stongs, strong bads, the list could go on forever had I not already gone off into a ridiculously tangential withering rope of contempt, and yes, that may just be the most pathetic metaphor you ever see me write here, so make the most of it.

This morning my television gave me the pleasure of having to watch two smug looking, slightly overweight people moving awkwardly across a hall in ridiculous clothing, the grins on their faces frankly made me want to punch them in their collective face, and when they started awkwardly shuffling, I realised that this was a clip of strictly come dancing, and I realised that I have no faith in a society that finds that level of awfulness entertaining.

I’m sorry, I can put up with the X factor, I can put up with soap operas, I can even cope with hello magazine. With them I can make the argument that nobody really likes that crap and they’re watching it purely for masochistic reasons.

With something that tries so hard to be classy and elegant I really can’t find any excuse for not sending a suicide bomber to the BBC studios and eliminating the lives of all the judges except for my inherent pacifism.

It’s inhumane to keep this filth going and I demand that we start a charity immediately to research how to bring this down without causing the tumour to grow malignant and destroy us from the inside out.


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