I’m going to throw shapes until I see the kids cringe

Share this article

COMMENT: A business community that is simply the best

Have your say

So the wedding season is upon us, with the services, the speeches and the Champagne. And, with a wildly flailing arm in the air and an uncoordinated shake of the body, the spectacle of ‘dad dancing’.

You may think there’s nothing unusual about this. It happens up and down the country, week in week out. Dads dancing the Funky Chicken in Newcastle, Uncle Bob trying to pull off the latest Beyonce moves in Manchester.

Sons and daughters across the land hide away in embarrassment, dreading the time when the Birdie Song is played, or cursing the DJ for putting on the Bee Gees classic Night Fever.

But what really concerns me is when I become a ‘dad dancer’.

At what point can I be seen on the dancefloor with shirt buttons undone, tie loosened, eyes closed, in a world of my own, dancing like no-one’s watching?

When I reach a certain age, do I become more John Sergeant than John Travolta?

Is it now I have children, or is it when my children are old enough to be ashamed of me?

Or, as scientific research suggests, is it the case that there’s nothing any of us men can do about this and it’s all to do with evolution? Yes, evolution.

Apparently, studies show that women are less attracted to the big, uncoordinated movements that a male in his 30s or 40s will make compared to the smaller, more co-ordinated moves someone in their 20s will make.

Well if it’s uncoordinated moves you’re after, then I took things to a whole new level recently when a video appeared of me dancing along to Nelly the Elephant at a recent wedding.

Between the ages of 35 and into their 60s, men subconsciously ‘dad dance’ in order to repel younger women and therefore leave the field open for younger men at their sexual peak.

A certain Dr Peter Lovatt says that ‘the evolutionary reason for this is that you don’t want 45-year-old men going off with 18-year-old girls.’

Well, I’ve been repelling women with my moves since I first set foot in Portsmouth’s 5th Avenue back in 1996. So until I catch my kids cringing when I’m trying to do the Macarena, I’ll keep on throwing those shapes.