The Last Word Muse

Strictly what now?

Tripping over the shoelaces of satire while attempting to dance the foxtrot of current affairs

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Behind the scenes, York Come Dancing. Joey Ellis is channeling Tess Daly. "Everyone ready? Places, everyone, places... Oh my god, what's happened?"

A ripple of consternation runs through those assembled in the great hall. The tension has reached the YSTV control room. The scuttling of the sunlight-starved television techies has changed in pace. There is panic in the air.

There is talk of betrayal in the green room. Who had endangered the lives of all? Who stole Dan Taylor's shirt?

His dancing partner was in tears. "We've lost," she sobbed. "His nipples... they'll scare the audience." This was a real danger. Eyewitness reports put Taylors nipples at erect to a length of at least twenty-seven metres, with tips as sharp as needles and as hard as diamonds. York Minster Hospital for Children, Puppies and Iraq War Veterans was in danger of losing the money it so badly needed for a new air-hockey table. Indeed, from outside the Courtyard bar three veterans of the surge, one of them just eight years old, another a labrador pup, peered anxiously through the steamed-up windows.

"Who will save us from his nipples?" cried a distraught Charlie Leyland, her instinct to Cha Cha and her instinct to protect the welfare of her charges in desparate conflict. "Oh no!" cried a dancer. "He's coming!"

An atonal bellow echoed around the hall. Three sushi-shaped lanterns fell from their mounts, crushing six plates of tapas and trapping Rory Shanks.

From backstage, the terrible footfalls of the beast echoed. Then, with a thunder of tortured masonry, Dan Taylor crashed through the door, ripping it from its hinges. Terrified TV techs scuttled to avoid his gaze, and battlescarred chihuahuas fled from his deadly roar.

Rescue came in the unlikely form of prince Alexander Pushkin Vladivostok Geraldine Fink. With no regard for his own safety, Fink abandoned his waltz mid-pirouette and, throwing his partner to the ground, he bravely advanced on the charging, baying, topless Taylor.

What ensued was not entirely clear. The bards like to sing that Fink, in one swift move, transferred his jacket onto the enraged Taylor, like the world's greatest matador. Whatever transpired, when the smoke cleared, a docile Taylor was wearing it.

It didn't stop three dancers being tragically impaled on Dan's nipples, though.

Tom Scott's Blackberry


(as seen by Henry James Foy



05.02.09 13:06
To: president@yusu.org
From: jb629@york.ac.uk
Subject: Nouse Survey

Dear Matt,

I was asked by Nouse today who you were, and felt proud to tell them (rather matter-of-factly, I should add) that you were our brilliant President. Mr Burton, you are an inspiration to us all.

And great job on the bar - you should stand for another term!

John

--------------------------------------------
08.02.09 23:49
To: president@yusu.org
From: acwelf@yusu.org
Subject: PWNED!

CHA! CHA! CHA!
CHArlie x

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09.02.09 09:47
To: president@yusu.org; acwelf@yusu.org
From: dsfkjhsd56@hotmail.com
Subject: Tips

Hi guys,

I'm thinking about running for YUSU next year, and I'm interested in your positions. Could you give me a quick list of what's expected of you, and what I need to know to do your jobs?
Thanks,
Dave

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09.02.09 14:20
To: president@yusu.org
From: strictly@bbc.co.uk
Subject: RE: Next Series

Dear Mr Scott,
Thank you for your email. As I'm sure you'd appreciate, we are inundated with videos of untalented 'dancers' hoping for us to drop our standards low enough for them to take part. You're not a famous cricketer, disgraced TV presenter or washout former pop star. Actually, you're even a pretty rubbish pirate.

Regards,

Bruce Forsyth

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10.02.09 11:03
To: president@yusu.org; acwelf@yusu.org
From: dsfkjhsd56@hotmail.com
Subject: RE: Tips

All right clever-clogs, you got me. You can't blame a guy for trying (for everything).

Rory

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