Did you ever have that fantasy as a kid where someone starts on you and from nowhere you turn into a bad-ass ninja fighter of Bruce Lee proportions and completely floor them and their bunch of mean looking mates (that suddenly appeared, just like in the movies)? Still have that fantasy every now and then? Okay, so if you don’t want to admit it, that’s fine, you just run along and beat the sh*t out of your PS3 or whatever while I look the other way… la la la.
ANYWAY, my latest version of this fantasy is on the dancefloor of some outrageously cool club. I’m a regular there, the barman gives me respectful yet fond nod as I walk by and stake out the place with my crew. The place is busy, we’re all dancing and some precocious little f*ckwit starts shoving her tits in our lot’s faces. Oh no, I’m not having that, my friends. Instead of beating the sh*t out of her, I’m a pacifist in actions if not words, folks, I wipe the floor with her with my bad-ass, foot-stompin, back-flippin, splits-makin Northern Soul-girl moves. I don’t have these moves in real life but in my dreams, the latent exhibitionist that has laid dormant since I took ballet classes when I was small let’s rip and completely smashes it. Want an idea of the killer moves I mean? Forget the girls looking pretty doing the little demure version of the moves… no, I’d be taking on the boys and be the badass ninja of the dance floor, oh yes. Witness blokes properly going for it and being properly manly while they were at it, watch and learn, indie boy shoe-gazer types.
Behold:
