Tickets, Money, Passport?

So we're in the pub last night, enjoying a few pints when the urge to dance comes over us. Well it comes over Pam first and it's a dare she extends to me; we both know where this is going. A clumsy stagger around the small open space of the bar. When suddenly the barmaid heads over and says "Sorry ladies, no dancing." "No dancing?" "No dancing." (repetition is gripping narrative, yes?).

We duly returned to our bar stools and recognising the filmic reference of Footloose, I try to recreate the dancing feet but the bar stool is too high. It was all a bit ridiculous.


Here's something for your IJ.