WITH the new series of Strictly Come Dancing in sight Christine had a bright idea.

"Okay, we're obviously not great fans of the gym," she reminded me. "So why don't we try some dance classes?"

Then she said: "We love watching Strictly, and this way we can tone up, learn some new moves and have a bit of a laugh at the same time."

Reluctantly I agreed and we headed off to book up for a class.

On our first night, Christine, being much taller than me, settled on being the 'guy' so we paired up ready to begin.

"Do either of you have any dance experience"? asked Pamela, our young enthusiastic dance teacher.

"Only from our school days or after a few drinks on a Friday night," I said in an attempt to be funny. But Pamela was having none of it.

With a room packed full of wannabe dance stars it was all systems go.

"Right, ladies and gentlemen," ordered Pamela. "Get into position. Tonight we will begin with a dance created in the Dominican Republic called the Bachata".

"The what?" queried Christine. "Never heard of it."

And neither had I. However, 10 minutes later and having given it our best efforts, Pamela changed the music and the tempo slowed down slightly.

"Watch me please and I'll show you the basic steps of the Lambada which, in case you are interested, originated in Brazil". she informed us as she exhibited her professional dance skills.

"She makes it look so easy," Christine said, exasperated. "And it's anything but."

We were now into week three of our class and it didn't seem to be getting any easier.

In fact, it was getting much more difficult as we were given the job of learning learn five different dances within the hour.

"It's a lot to take in," we admitted to the dance instructor.

The Bachata, the Lambada, the Cha Cha, the Merengue and also the Argentinean Tango! We didn't know if we were coming or going.

Ignoring us and turning to her star pupils we took our positions ready for another hour of humiliation.

Just as we seemed to be getting into the swing of things, the music jumped from one tempo to another and the dance would change, which meant Christine and I were literally going round in circles.

"My feet are killing me," I moaned to my clumsy dance partner.

"Is it those new shoes? she puffed out of breath. "You should have worn an older pair".

"Naw," I narked back at her. "You keep blinkin standing on them."

Nearing the end of our torturous hour.

"At least we have mastered one of the dances," Christine grinned. "This is actually good fun. Cha cha cha," she sang to the beat.

"Oh aye. It's great. Cha cha cha," I smiled.

"Who would have thought we would be this good?"

Cha cha cha.

However, our perfect rhythm came to an abrupt halt when suddenly the music died and we looked up to see a red-faced Pamela staring at us.

"Ladies. What are you doing?" She inquired loudly in front of a room full of bemused would-be dance experts.

"The Cha Cha," I replied, thinking it was obvious.

"Well," she sighed. "Everyone else in the room is doing the Merengue."

Shaking her head she continued: "Could you both wait at the end of the lesson, I need to have a chat."

And chat she did.

Only to politely suggest it would be better for everyone else in the class if we started our lessons again at the beginners' session next January.

"What a cheek," I said to Christine, my now former dance partner. "I think we've just been thrown out of the class."

"Oh well," Christine responded in submission.

"I prefer to just shuffle about like we've always done anyway."

"True," I replied as we put on our coats.

"And we're both great at the Slosh. What more do we need?"