Last night, I joined my wife at a function for her work. It was basically a mid-year celebration, held at Luna Park and included free booze and a DJ, so it was bound to be funny to watch.

For me, this reached a comedic peak when the DJ faded out from Come On Eileen and started to crank up Nutbush City Limits. Within moments of Tina beginning to screech from the giant speakers, the floor was packed with people kneeing and kicking into the air in almost-unison.

It got all to much for one poor lass, who's heel took the sloping edge of the timber dancefloor and came a cropper, ankle twisted. We had a dancer down. But Tina continued to wail, and knees continued to sail skyward, with the crowd making a 90 degree about-face at the end of each verse.

I also obliged a request from my wife and a couple of mates to dance to a few tunes. It was during these moments that I realised I no longer find dancing fun. More likely uncomfortable and strange. So, henceforth, no more dancing.

I'd be happy to hear if anyone can offer a good reason to keep shaking my money-maker. Doing The Bus Stop is not a reason.