Dancing in the street

As I walk to work through the cold rainy streets of Wembley, quietly observing the world, I see plent of government adverts for dance classes.

Free dance classes.

Well, not really free. Just paid for with your money against your will. In the depths of the recession the government have decided to spend our money providing dance classes, whether we turn up or not.

Its like those old joke phone numbers in the back of eighties kids comics where you phone a premium rate number to hear some jokes read out, but here you have no choice. The money's spent.

It went to dance classes in 2008 on my own accord. Lindy-hop dancing, it was fun. I had to pay for it myself from my own pocket. Six quid a session for eight weeks. If I don't go to the government's dance classes can I have a refund.

Its the way dance classes are an interchangable commodity in the government's eyes. Just dance, it doesn't matter which dancing school or organisation is conducting the classes. There's no sign of it on the adverts, just the government.

Its vulgar.

'Power up your robot'? Robot dancing was cool for a week in 1983 before every seven year old in school started doing it.

I guess it was cool again last year when that Britain's got Talent mob won their thing, but that was only funny when Perri did a backflip and fell on his head. Besides, is the winner of a talent show any guide for government entertainment policy. In which case I would rather do 'chick chick, chick chick chicken, lay a little egg for me'.

Could they no have just made advertising tax deductible for established dance schools, rather than this shit?