Disco - The End Of A Beautiful Affair

The 17 October 2013 may well go down in the annuals of night clubbing history. It’s the date I have decided to hang up my Jam shoes, put away my tailored-made Egyptian cotton disco shirt and retire my dance moves to the Bournemouth Retirement Home for Disco Dances. Before doing so I am determined have my dance moves (that I like to think have inspired a generation of like-minded clubbers)copyrighted. I don’t want some upstart in 20 years hence purloining my painstakingly choreographed moves (hours practised in front of mum’s mirror) for his or her own benefit. Why you say that specific date. Well to answer your question it is my last full day in Bodrum, Turkey. I think its fitting almost poetic that I dance my final night away on foreign soil as my innovated dance crazies have brought pleasure and enlightened many across the globe. I am returning to the biggest open club in Europe the Halikarnas Nightclub. My first time was less than auspicious. It was there I fell victim to two 50 something ladies from Germany. Hansel and Gretal as I now referred to them, wanted to perform acts on me which a porn actor would decline in the strongest terms. The universal question which has grappled, befuddled and stumped philosophers over a millennium is when are you too old for disco. Similar to sporting icons like Sachin Tendulkar, Maradonna and Muhammad Ali, I may have carried on a few more years than I should of possibly damaging my well-earned legacy in the process. I suppose you have inkling when the Gods of disco signal its time to moonwalk towards the exit, when you are smooching with a gorgeous woman who afterwards introduces you to her mother who is even younger than you are. Thanks Charlotte and mother Debra for showing me a great time. Moreover, it knocks your confidence when the Turkish locals keep referring to you not as Lewis Hamilton but as the Formula One’s dad. Its time to take up other pursuits befitting my age - lawn bowling and croquet should be right up my street.