Do you remember the film Back to the Future? Of course you do, you’re not 18*. Do you remember the Enchantment Under the Sea dance? Did it not seem a little bit weird how the music was slow and boring up until our all American Hero Marty turns up with his electric guitar and saves everyone’s souls from boredom? Even though it was a completely new form of music, all the kids were as talented swing dancers as Darren Gough! Of course, that style of swing jazz was practiced at the time, yet a fair amount of suspension of disbelief was required to think these 17/18 year olds could instantaneously break out into a medal-winning routine. High School Musical, it ain’t.

Well if you’ve ever wondered the same as me, and if like me, you’ve consequently wondered how easy it would be in real life to suddenly break out into professional swing dancing with next to no lessons or practice, then take it from me. It’s every bit as hard as you’d think. There’s no ‘Fight or Flight’, ‘It’ll be all right on the night’, ‘I can perform when I really have to’ here. This isn’t Napoleon Dynamite. In fact it’s not a film at all, it’s real life. And those things don’t happen. What happens? You jig around, flailing your arms loosely in time to music, stamp all over your partner’s feet, and watch a look of pity grimly swipe across her face as she refuses to spin.

This is the stark reality of the glamorous 100 Cub of London’s Oxford St. I attended one of their Lindy Hop dance evenings this past week. It’s basically just a swing dance night, with the gimmick of a free (included in the £11 entry) dance lesson at the start. The lesson starts off in true high-school P.E. / forced fun fashion, the forming of two lines. Boys on one side, girls the other. We start off slowly, and incredibly easily.

“Move one foot back? You got that... move your foot. Back.... Goooood! Now. Move the other foot. The other foot. Into the same position. Brilliant! You’re doing really well!”

This sort of nursery school version of a dance class continues for a few minutes and a couple more steps, which I don’t have a problem with. I am a beginner after all. I like a dance. I’ll get down on a dance floor just as quickly as anyone given half a chance and half a shandy. This might be my first lesson, but I don’t mind the rest catching up to my level. So we learn a four step programme, replicate it backwards, then forwards again, then a simpler 8 step programme (just walking forward), then repeat the first again. We’re told this is the boring part (which I could have worked out for myself), but it’s essential for every swing dance you’ll ever do. This is what they said, “essential”. After I’d got that first thing down pretty well with a few different partners (using a speed-dating selection system), we were free to move on to the more complicated stuff. ‘Excellent’!

Two groups were made. Beginner, and advanced. Dancers with 1-10 previous classes under their respective belts were beginners (I assumed that meant me too as my dance lesson history totals the same as that of a cup of lard - zero). The instructor started off by getting us all excited for what we were about to learn...

‘You’ve got the three basic areas of Swing Dancing. The fun flips and throws with the girl going through the guy’s legs, and around his waist and everything... that’s great. The second area includes those cool looking kicks that you see people doing. That’s fun isn’t it? But the third is what we’re going to do today... the really boring footwork shit. Good news for you lot as it’s the least fun and most tedious, yet most difficult to learn.’ Brilliant!

So we do a few steps, and it’s all nice and awkward as again the girls swap over every time we try it again. This is frustrating as hell seeing as only some girls you’d accept as partners. I don’t care about skill or expertise, all I ask is that you put the effort in. Some of them were jumping in at the deep end in terms of experience but getting on with it none the less (I’d like to think, like me). But others, you get the feeling their Doctor’s note wasn’t accepted at the door. They’ve forgotten their kit, but instead of sitting out they’re simply made to do it in their uniform.

After the dance lesson was over, the proper night could begin. A pretty cool jive band jumped up on stage, replete with saxophone, trombone, trumpet, double bass, and a 12 year old jazz piano player! Their music set the scene for a continuation of the dance lesson. Only now there was no segregation. Experience mixed with no experience, and the resulting disaster was enough to make me flee like a Japanese harbour fisherman. You see, it’s easy for girls. If you’re inexperienced then it’s fine. The guy’s supposed to lead anyway. He tells you what to do, as long as you try to do it, you’ll look good. But for an inexperienced boy, who’s meant to know all the moves in order to lead the girl into them, what do you do if you don’t know any of them? I’ll tell you what you do... you stare blankly at her, wondering why she’s so surprised at how shit you are, considering all you’ve done was tell her how shit you are and how you don’t know any moves, then seen a look of expectation die from her eyes, rising in its place only disappointment.

A quick excuse is made...

“Oh... I er... think my friends are calling me. Excuse me. I’ll definitely come back for you, and dance with you later yeah?!”

No you won’t, because I’m leaving before you ever get a chance my darling.