Murder on the Dance Floor

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A twist in the tale

Hip hop flop

I'd gone along to my usual Hip-hop dance class - it pays to be versatile in this game. I'd even managed to get there 10 minutes early and do 100 sit-ups, so I was feeling rather pleased with myself. We started into a new routine, which included a neat little jump turn
landing on left foot with right foot extended behind1. Well, I must have hipped where I should have hopped, because the next thing I knew was excruciating pain in my left ankle, uncontrolled sobbing from my tear-stained face, and the teacher trying to tell me that everything was OK.

No it's not, I was thinking, I've got 2 shows coming up in the next month, and I don't think I can do them on crutches! Ice was called for - unsuccessfully. But miraculously 2 cans of freezing cold beer were procured and applied to my throbbing foot. By this stage I'd managed to wiggle my toes to prove that no bones were broken, and the pain was easing slightly. The owner of the beer helped me to hobble downstairs (I think he was just keeping an eye on his beer), and I calmed down with a coffee, while a nice young man told me he'd been watching me admiringly through the window before my spectacular fall.

'Ah well, it was worth it then!' I managed to smile back at him. Always leave your audience wanting more...

Staging Post

Steam Heat is being done with about 20 people on stage. And a baby grand - cue much heated exchanges between choreographer and producer. I have to admit, although I was annoyed that the dancing element has been severely reduced, it has to be that way to work with so many people in such a tiny space. But the end result looks good!

I'd gone along to the rehearsal with a very fetching elastic stocking2 on my injured ankle, intending to just walk through the steps, but we were rehearsing on stage, with lights, and it's impossible NOT to dance in such circumstances.

Prod, Weigh, Pay Me

Those of us performing Broadway Baby have been suffering greatly from an attack of the Mondegreens. Alternative lyrics we have inadvertently added include:

  • 'Heck I'd even pay the maid!' (play)
  • 'Just a tube of toothpaste and a follow spot' (greasepaint)
  • 'All my debts will be repaid' (dreams)

And me? I can never remember the names of the 2 producers in the lyrics, so I end up singing:

  • 'Working for a nice man, like a... like a... like a...' as if there are no nice men at all.

(Apologies to Mr Ziegfield and Mr Weissman. I'm sure they are very nice men indeed.)

Murder on the Dance Floor


21.08.03 Front Page

Back Issue Page

1In view of what comes next I'm forced to issue a 'Don't try this at home!' warning here.2My rather surreal 'to do' list that day went 'shower, mushrooms, vase, elastic stocking.'

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