to Pas de Bourrée or Pass the bar

In an attempt to imbibe a little culture into my heathen ass I attended the St Petersburg ballet’s rendition of Swan lake this week: a story of man on bird love ….animal rights groups were surprisingly okay with the relationship (i.e. I didn’t see any of them arabesquing across the stage and chaining themselves to one of the fake trees on the set)

So anyway, as you all know I have a plethora of talent at mastering pretty much any art or science and after some study, came to the conclusion I could definitely be a prima ballerina, the parallels are obvious:

1. Ballerina’s can stand on their toes : I like to stand on other peoples toes
2. The best ballerina’s are Russian , I have a little Russian in me (vodka , 40% proof) .
3. Ballerinas can master complex movements , I have mastered ‘the sprinkler’
4. Male ballerina’s have really tights arses : I am particularly fond of tight arses
5. Ballerina’s do pliés : I can spell plié

I have however, after some thought, decided not to pursue this avenue: as although I so definitely would ROCK and be like the most prima PRIMA ballerina there are one or two hurdles – i.e. the whole leotard thing ( *cold sweats* and *shouting* and *nasty mental images of Madonna’s purple leotard with bad 70’s hair eating my liver* ) …. And I don’t think they encourage binge drinking ….and then of course the whole I fall over a lot and have the grace of a wounded buffalo thing doesn’t help much either ….

Hmmm…but about those arses ….