A promise made is a promise delivered

I promised you a car crash of a class last night, Showgirls, and I am proud to say that I did not let you down.

I was two Partners-in-Sequins short for a dance routine that requires, er, three dancers. I took the precaution beforehand of brushing up on the footwork for all three parts. However, on the night we decided that it would be too complicated for the troupe to follow me if I was being me, The Voluptuous Jules and The Sparkly Bra Pixie interchangeably. So, I granted the freedom for every showgirl to dance whichever part drew her in that particular moment. Despite our expectations, that worked pretty well.

What was a tad more manic was me rushing up and down the hall in mid-routine so that I could lead from the front when we were facing the front, and then lead from the back when we turned round to face the back, then lead from the front… you get the picture. With the shouted reminder “don’t follow me”, I would bound to my feet partway through the floor routine then scamper to the back of the class, to be very nearly ready for them when they turned round, then rush back while they were glove twirling to very nearly remember what steps came next by the time I reached the front.

It was daft. It was fun. It was the usual little slice of laughter and soul repair with lovely women – a mini rest cure from what is at the moment a rather fraught world.

Here’s to all you Showgirls having a fabulous break over the Christmas period. We launch a brand spanking new routine on Weds 12^th Jan. We hope to see you there for more sparkles, giggles and gentle chaos.

Yours, enjoying multiple personas,

Burlicious x.

Vesting to tease

 A new branch of burlesque was launched last night. We start in our undies and then slowly start putting on extra layers as we dance. This invention sprung from the fact that we are new to our lovely hall, and we haven’t yet discovered how to turn on the heating. It was a tad chilly, it must be said.

“I’m glad I’ve got two vests on,” muttered the Sparkly Bra Pixie as we leant into each other for a particular move.

“You utter sex kitten,” I replied.

Meanwhile, the Voluptuous Jules almost jiggled in place in an attempt to warm up. I’m sure that many would have found that a warming sight.

All this, and the instruction to perform a “crisp flash”, which led to a rather smutty conversation about where to keep one’s crisps, and an acceptable time was had by all.

No class next week, showgirls, so we’ll see you on the 8^th. I shall start the evening in my heating engineer’s outfit and will lure some heating to us.

Yours, crisps duly flashed,

Burlicious x

Anatomy lesson

We have a lovely move in which first one wrist, then the other, is crisply and deliberately wrapped in a single long evening glove, giving the appearance of satin handcuffs holding the wrists close together. We use that move in the current routine, holding the wrapped wrists low and in front of the body.

"When you're doing that," says the Voluptuous Jules helpfully, "keep the arms straight and hold the hands a bit away from the body so they can be seen. You don't want them to get lost in your... in your..."

"Fanny." the Sparkly Bra Pixie says, helpfully completing the sentence for her.

Class, small as it was last night, erupts. There is then a giggly conversation about the exact picture that this warning conjures up.

Add to this the soundtrack for part of the routine of me skipping about behind the troupe, releasing the  odd; "oh bugger" as I mess up the steps in new and interesting ways, and you pretty much get the picture.

And yet, despite ourselves, the routine is starting to look really good. Cracking job, showgirls! You do us proud!

Yours, cuffed wrists well clear of the danger zone,

Burlicious x 

Wanted - a glove bitch

The long gloves that we wear for Burlicious are versatile things. In the current routine alone, we twirl one; we flip it coyly over a shoulder; we slap it through open thighs to deliver a smackette on the bum; and we pull it up the body through closed thighs and then the cleavage. The other is drawn off lingeringly across the, ahem, the chest area, and then used for handcuffs.

The downside of all this when we are learning a routine is that those gloves are taken on, off, on, off, on off, many, many times in one class. Add to that the fact that one of the gloves is peeled off inside out from elbow to fingertips, and you can see that we waste a fair amount of time in glove retrieval and management, as well as in the irritating task of turning it back in the correct way before putting it on again.

As we danced last night, we decided that what we need is a lovely wee slavey who will run around while we dance, turning gloves back the right way out, and proffering at a second’s notice fresh gloves for all showgirls while the discarded gloves are being gathered and conquered.

So, a plum vacancy has arisen for a glove bitch for Burlicious. The term “glove bitch” came from one of our showgirls. We think it could catch on. For the right candidate, we might condone suitable outfits – another of our showgirls suggests the sort of thing that a strict dominatrix might want to tower over imperiously. We’re open to that as an idea. We might also chuck in a chance to have the Voluptuous Jules stand over the glove bitch looking for all the world as if she will crush him/her under her tiny, high-heeled shoe.

Takes all sorts, no?

Yours, understaffed,

Burlicious x

Thrashing the duvet

What a treat to see you last week and this, Showgirls. And what a happy, healthy, balance of the sublime and the ridiculous we have made of it!

Last week we had brains positively popping out loud with the challenge of walking a figure of eight, leaning first one way, then the next. 

"Left", says the Sparkly Bra Pixie in her best "I will brook no disobedience" voice, "and bear LEFT. Now RIGHT" (waggling right foot helpfully to demonstrate) ".... and bear RIGHT."

In no time, a couple of trios have buggered it up and are reduced to helpless giggling - bent over, quivering, teary-eyed giggling - stationary in the  middle of the floor, unable to go any further. It is, I must say, a tonic for the soul to see such hilarity on a wet Wednesday evening. The next day, one of our Showgirls told us she had been dancing this step in her sleep and had positively twirled her duvet into knots 😄. 

This week.... ah, this week we tiddle tiddle tiddle pommed; we wrapped; we stroked; we flashed (with our winter drawers on, of course) and we rolled about the floor with aplomb. 

Well, my little starlets of lusciousness, the routine is coming together very nicely. Take a week off to rest those brains and those floor-bruised knees, and we'll see you next on 10th November.

Yours, tiddle tiddle tiddle pom,

Burlicious x

Thwarted, temporarily thwarted

Just as we got our showgirl show back on the road, along comes a dearth of fuel at the petrol stations and many of us delicious Burlicious creatures are suddenly grounded. 

Pah!

To add to that, there is no class next week - Weds 6th October - because our lovley new hall is booked out by others on the first Wednesday of every month.

And, to top it all, we can't cover class on Weds 13th October well enough between the three of us. 

So, our next injection of sparkly drawers; feathers, fishnets; heels and hilarity will be Weds 20th October. We know, we know. That is positively AGES away. Still, we'll get there, and it will be lovely to be back on track again.

In the meantime, showgirls, "we're driving Cadillacs in our dreams" 😄,

Burlicious x

Just what the doctor ordered

 Oh my word - that does feel better! At last, we had a dance class last night with a bevy of Burlicious beauties and all the gentle daftness that that entails.

The signature elements were all there - missteps, wobbles and laughter, and me teaching exactly the right moves....just not always in the right order. 

And for all that, our troupe of temptresses threw off 18 months of zero Burlicious and trotted through the first part of the routine with aplomb. Seriously, ladies, it already looks bloomin' lovely. With a gang of us smartly turning out a leg in one, two, three, the effect is amplified well beyond what we Burlicious Three created and can deliver alone.

And it was so good to see you all there. 

Yours, looking forward to dancing with you all in long johns through the winter as we fling open the windows for ventilation 😁,

Burlicious x

Slip into your slingbacks and waggle your tail feathers....

It's on! We're back! Bigger (literally 😀) and better than ever. Well, if not better, at least every bit as daft and fabulous as ever!

Class starts again in a couple of weeks. They say you can't teach an old showgirl new tricks. Prove us wrong, ladies, and turn up at the Reculver & Beltinge Memorial Hall CT6 6PL in time to get changed and ready for 7.30pm on Weds 22nd Sept. Yes, that's a new venue and a new time. The door closes sharp at 7.30 but should be open from 7. 

Carriages at 8.30pm on the dot so we can de-feather and remove our gorgeousness from the hall by 8.45pm.

Parking is limited to nearby residential streets. 

Class is £7. You pay only for the classes you do and you do not need to commit to future classes. Apologies for the increase in price, showgirls - we're paying more for the hall and for insurance. We're still keeping the price as low as we can. 

Payment is online rather than in cash (although we'll accept cash as a fallback). Payment details are coming to you by another route. 

We have a brand new routine tucked in our fishnets for later, and have chosen for this relaunch a routine we havne't danced for over five years. If our rehearsal was anything to go by, it should be a bit of a gentle car crash!

We know that about half our showgirls can't make the first class. As you regulars know, that's no problem. If you have never been to our classes before and are thinking about joining, it would be lovely to see you. Email us on burlicious@gmail.com if you would like to know more. 

Well, that's enough sensible and practical stuff from us for one post. Doubtless normal service will resume as the term progresses 😊. 

Yours, so looking forward to laughing with you again,

Burlicious x

Still here. Still waiting.

Who would have thought it, dahlinks? We are still not back in class. So, a little update is due. 

We absolutely, definitely want to dance again. We miss our showgirls and our shabby little hall terribly. However, a couple of challenges mean that we are still obliged to be showgirls-in-waiting. 

Firstly, our venue is not Covid compliant - we need to provide each of us with 100sq ft. Frankly, in our little hall, that means half of us would be dancing at the bus stop, listening to instructions being yelled out of the window. Entertaining as that would be for the locals, the risk of feathers getting soggy and flesh getting chafed on pavements is too high to be contemplated.

Secondly, the Sparkly Bra Pixie's work timetable is a changeable thing at the mo., and so we're not yet clear whether our usual Wednesday evening slot will continue to be the most convenient time for her in the future. 

On the upside, we have a routine good to go. Well, I say that. What I mean is that we had a routine good to go a year ago. Now we have some vague memories and a few pages of notes. That should make for a hilarious relaunch when the time comes.

So, when we know more, we'll email all you regulars and, if we do have to change things, we'll ask you about avalability for different time slots and see how many of you are ready to roll about the floor with us again. 

Until then, savour your strutting; crisp up your quickies; and keep your flowering fresh (hmm, that sounds a little odd).

Yours, properly impatient now,

Burlicious x

Showgirls in waiting

45 weeks without Burlicious.

45 weeks without our gorgeous, witty, warm and bubbly showgirls.

45 weeks without the pre-class anticipation of choosing an outfit and getting ready to join the troupe for an hour of daftness and restorative mental balm.

45 weeks without the dancing – without the hilarious, beautiful, chaotic, sexy, individual yet coordinated, bloody stunning dancing. 

45 weeks without that welcoming virtual hug of female company – without the news, the updates, the laughs, the shared frustrations and furies, the shared triumphs too. 

Yep, we miss you. 

But don’t take our silence to mean that we don’t plan to come back. Hell, no! We may be even older when we finally meet again (and, in my case at least, a tad fatter), but we are not yet ready to hang up our fishnets and feathers; our satins and our stilettos; and our corsets and our multiple pairs of drawers.

We will strut together again. We promise. 

Yours, "resting" in the meantime, as the actors say,

Burlicious x