In the ear of the beholder

As it is a sad fact that our practice equipment doesn't quite match the dizzy heights of our choreography. In our current routine, we have a lovely move whereby we place the right knee on the seat of a chair and then the left toe so that we're kneeling up on the chair, arm raised high, in a sort of gorgeous Cabaret move. It looks beautiful.

Now, our homely little church hall has hard, red plastic chairs which, while practical, are a little bit like kneeling on concrete. The day after class often produces a flurry of photos of knees adorned with small, round bruises.


To our delight, some padded, "leatherette"" chairs have recently made an appearance. Careful tests last week revealed that they are a lot kinder on showgirl knees.

However, the rip-roaring chorus of fart-like noises that they produce later on in the routine as we swivel on our arse from one side of the chair to another has to be heard to be believed. Imagine a full-on, comedy raspberry, in the fine tradition of fart cushions and kids' playgrounds. Now multiply that by a number of showgirls. Now superimpose that soundtrack on the seductive picture of a showgirl troupe demurely sliding from one side of a chair to the other, hands coyly on knees. It is, quite literally a show stopper, producing tears of helpless laughter and cries of: "Oh, my God! Was that you?!"

It's hard work being a sex goddess, it really is.

Yours, parping for beauty,

Burlicious x