Dancer

Swing your pants, grandma! That's it! Look at that high kick! Way to go! Superb! Just make sure that next time you put some knickers on!

We all have a primal urge to express ourselves through dance. It's a great way of conveying joy or sorrow, of sizing up potential sexual partners or getting out of the washing up. Dance can also send you into a trance, especially if you pop a paracetamol beforehand.

That's all well and good but who'd do it for a living? Darsel Busty for one. Famed for her ability to do the splits over an open fire, Darsel was one of England's premier ballet dancers until her retirement ten minutes ago. Still out of breath when we spoke, I asked her how she got into dance: "My mum was a very light sleeper so I was always good at walking around on tiptoes." Did she study ballet at school? "No. I was temping as a belly dancer when my opportunity arose - and I grabbed it with all three hands." I looked down and, blow me, she did have three hands. Skirting over this, I asked what advice she had for aspiring dancers: "Always lie about your age and only ever eat tissues for lunch. Don't imagine being a ballet dancer is anything like that film, Smelly Idiot."

I think she meant Billy Elliott. Still, she inspired me - I danced the Fandango all the way home. So wherever you're reading this (train/tube/bus/prison), sling the paper over your shoulder, grab the person next to you, stand up and do the twist. You won't regret it - unless they smash you in the face with their mobile phone.