Theresa May - what a dancer!

Theresa May- what a dancer.

This week saw the arrival of one of the greatest dancers of modern times. In fact there have been some valid comparisons to Ginger Rogers in her Top Hat pomp with the equally as nimble footed and gloriously athletic Fred Astaire. You can only assume the summer heat might have gone to the Prime Minister head because things were certainly taking an unusual turn this week.

At a school in South Africa Theresa May took a gentle trip back to her heady school disco days with the kind of performance that would have left the likes of Nureyev, Dame Margot Fonteyn and, more recently, John Travolta, breathless and consumed with envy. May did what any political leader worth their salt would have done if confronted with a playground of hugely energetic schoolchildren.

 She danced and danced and danced until she could hardly believe what she was doing. It must have been like one of those afternoons when you have to join in with the spirit of the occasion. Some of us are still scratching our heads and others just speechless. Besides, it was the middle of the week and what else would you do if somebody told you to do something completely spontaneous and unexpected?

But this was the Prime Minister of Britain, there was a photo opportunity to grab and the prying eyes of the world were firmly on her. Here was the Prime Minister finally discovering that at long last the pressure had temporarily been taken off her for at least a while and now it was time to break into the kind of dancing routine that over enthusiastic wedding or bar or bat mitzvah guests would not think twice of acting out without any prompting whatsoever.

The fact is that Theresa May took this most celebrated of all art forms to the most extraordinary heights. Wearing a red jacket and dark trousers topped with the cheesiest of grins, May at first swayed backwards and forwards on her heels rather like somebody who didn't quite know what to do next when the cameras were on her. She carried on with unashamed courage and daring, rocking and swinging her hips somewhat awkwardly before realising that this could be her day to shine and completely win over her hardened critics. She clicked her fingers and did the hippy, hippy shake.

Now May found herself revisiting the spirit of Michael Jackson and quite possibly Olivia Newton John in Grease. Firstly, there was the half baked, stuttering, robotic dance, followed by the delirious Jackson moonwalk followed by a couple of neat, nifty steps and then the Showaddywaddy rock and roll, drain pipe trousered boogie woogie. Wow! What a display! How on earth any respected or discredited politician of any party could match that fleet of feet, terpsichorean showtime spectacular is quite anybody's guess.

Seriously though the Prime Minister of Britain is back on the Brexit trail banging the drum vociferously for Britain as a world class trading partner. She is building those proverbial bridges of commercial prosperity on behalf of a country that still finds itself unsure and indecisive in its role as an economic powerhouse. But come on, that dance was something pretty special and any relevance it might have had with the whole way in which we conduct ourselves with our global counterparts is hard to fathom.

As things stand at the moment most of us are just flummoxed with hard or soft Brexit deals at the top table of political negotiations. Are we in or we are out? Or do we simply do the Hokey Cokey, turn around and decide that that's what it's all about? What do we do if the country decides that it wants a second referendum thus jeopardising everything that the first one could have potentially offered? Perhaps we should just go back to eating Dutch cheese and buying German cars without a single word of scathingly hurtful commentary on our European friends.

Theresa May now finds himself teetering on the brink of humiliation and unsure whether to stick or twist. Somehow you begin to wonder whether the life of Prime Minister is worth all that aggravation and worry. You take yourself off on an innocent walking holiday in Italy and before you know it you're back on the front pages of the national newspapers dancing, joking, smiling and then dancing again. This may be the right time for quality time, for kicking off  your high heels and pretending you're some uninhibited teenager at the end of term school high prom where the adrenaline has kicked in with a vengeance.

As the party political conference season looms on the horizon for our British speechmakers and rhetoric magicians, the Conservatives, Labour, and Lib Dems are gearing up for another season of verbal fist fights, childish name calling. opportunistic grandstanding statements and the kind of ludicrous behaviour normally expected at a kids birthday party. We await flying fur, mud flinging, spiteful off the cuff remarks, vindictive insults and a whole succession of impassioned rants.

In the middle of it all will remain that most classical of dancers, a performer of the most original and balletic beauty. Theresa May has just floored everybody with a finger snapping, body popping, head rolling, dancing masterclass. It is to be hoped that there were just a couple of talent scouts out there watching and scrutinising this natural hoofer, this tap dancer extraordinaire.

Now we await the efforts of the now much reviled and despised Jeremy Corbyn, surely now one of the most singularly unpopular and disagreeable of Labour leaders since the beginning of time. Quite what Corbyn may have to offer the rarefied world of the ballroom can hardly be imagined. Perhaps the military two step or some very regimented sequence of steps? This is not a good time for Corbyn and dancing of any kind would perhaps be the last thing on his mind. It's time for the Labour leader to think about singing some slow ballad or perhaps an introspective chant to himself.

But as august August gives way to soulful and sanguine September we can only look back to that last week in August 2018 when the Prime Minister of Britain just let herself go, loosened her hair and got down with the kids. At the moment her stock has risen ever so slightly and the sun, although now autumnally watery, is still shining metaphorically on Theresa May. If there has been a more memorable dance by a serving Prime Minister then somebody should tell us now. To quote those soul meisters Chic. Dance, Dance, Dance Theresa! Keep those feet moving.