Alternative title: It’s no secret that I can’t dance, I have no sense of rhythm … In fact, I am probably the only person on the planet who can put Carlton Banks to shame! Yet there I was, pulsing squats and belting out the words to “Booty” in my dulcet (read as: tone deaf) Northern tones like a right royal tit.

Did I look like a tool? Yes (not much of a change from normal there then). Was I completely out of sync? More than likely (I walked into a door this morning so very likely – I am a disaster area!). Was I sweating buckets? Erm, can we say ‘glistening like the goddess I am’? (I was freaking drenched – back and butt sweat is the worst! Urgh).

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