Stackin' Shelves

Instructions Verb [Latin: ‘Stacking Crusta’]

Pretend that you’re a Supermarket Shelf-Stacker on a nightshift. Stand with an ample stance, parallel to an elevating series of fictitious Supermarket shelves. Then, starting fairly low, use both hands to stack invisible cans of preserved food (e.g. Baked Beans) onto the whimsical racking, in time to the beat. Work your way along each shelf, fancifully filling it with mysterious merchandise, then up to the next theoretical ledge.

Once you’ve filled the top shelf (at a stretch), turn around 90^o and repeat the productive process on a new empty shelving unit, quick-smart, forthwith, accordingly.

Origins

Back in 1982, Yuki Ikizumi knew how to throw a 忍者投げスター (Ninja Throwing Star). From an unripe early age, this Tokyo-based Japanese jouster had extraordinary wrist-flicking powers, which helped him dominate at youth martial arts tournaments, competing with foam Nunchakus, polystyrene Samurai swords and rubber throwing stars.  

Successive years, dedicated to honing these acrobatic sparring skills, put him in good stead for stacking preserved food products at his local ‘Big Ace Supermarket’ (ビッグエース). Now seventeen and skint, Yuki loved to show off his lightning-quick shelf-stacking abilities, during poorly-paid Saturday nightshifts, which became infamously known as the 'Tokyo Shift'.

During these epic supermarket stints, young guns challenged each other to overzealous shelf-stacking bouts, surrounded by jostling crowds of betting ‘Cool Kids’, for phenomenal cash winnings, tightly controlled by blinged-up Japanese gang clans.

Yuki would destroy his product-assorting competition, every time, anytime, and his notorious notoriety turned him into a local legend, due to his uncanny ability to repeatedly stack fifty cans of (sliced) Water Chestnuts in under ten seconds.

Stardom naturally followed Yuki, as well as adoring female fans, and marketing moguls, who desperately scrabbled over each other, to persuade Yuki to stack and endorse their Japanese household-named products. Yuki himself rapidly became a household name, covered in household-named merchandising adverts, from household-named Caps to household-named Shoes.

The pinnacle of fame occurred when Yuki appeared live on Japan's most popular TV show, 'Zip-Zap Ding-a-Ling' endurance gameshow, in which he continuously stacked cans of Baked Beans onto a conveyed shelf for over thirty-seven hours! Herculean effort!

No doubt, the Japanese nation had discovered a new star, with a new irritating 'Stack On, Stack Off!' catchphrase (newly forced by the marketing moguls), which spawned into a new irritating multimillion-pound merchandising empire.

Yuki now lives in relaxed and affluent retirement bliss, surrounded by an adoring family, and he still holds the official World Record for single-handedly stacking 100 packs of Wonton crispy noodles onto a 5ft high, 5ft wide pine shelf (official competition dimensions), in exact 147.38592 seconds.

よくやったよ (Well done Yuki!)

Jackhammer

Instructions Noun [Latin: ‘Jackhammer’]

Imagine that you’re a Big Butch Miner stooping over a heavy pneumatic rock drill, like a Silverback Mountain Gorilla on a toddler’s scooter. With a very wide stance, contort your face with an almighty effort, whilst tightly grasping the imaginary Jackhammer handle, and pressing your arms up and down to the beat of the drums, as if you’re drilling down to the Earth’s Core with haste.

Origins

In 1871, the infamous South African diamond rush was in full-swing, catalysed by ‘The Star of South Africa’, an 83 Carat Diamond, sold on the Victorian London Market for an eye-watering £25,000 (equivalent to approximately £47 Trillion today).

Spurred on by dreams of impending fortune, diamond-lovers from far and wide descended onto Kimberley, transforming this once barren, sleepy South African Townville into a hysterical mad fever-pitch of lunacy!

…and there was no finer hysterical mad fevered lunatic than ‘Big Jim Wade’, a butch extroverted mercenary from Cape Town, with biceps the size of obese Hippos.

Ja inderdaad (yes indeed), this carnival peacock would strut around the Kimberley diamond fields, irritating countless gem miners with his outrageous claims, like “I once dug up a Sapphire bigger than a man’s skull ja!” and “I can cut through rock faster than an overactive Ostrich can run ja!”

There was no doubt that he was the fastest tunnel digger in Africa, due to his uniquely engineered double-barrelled compressed-air pneumatic rock drill. However, due to popular unpopularity, Big Jim Wade quickly became known as the ‘Big Grim Maid’, with most miners desperately wanting to remove him from their senses, including sight, hearing and smell.

Then one night, during an almighty booze-up, a pack o’ miners challenged ‘Big Grim Maid’ (Big Jim Wade) to the challenge of challenges, for an enticing gem of a prize. Literally.

They persuaded Jim that if he jackhammered his way straight down to the Earth’s Core, he could claim the ultimate Jewel of Jewels, a naturally hardened, boulder-sized diamond of everlasting, incorruptible purity, known as ‘Earth Heart’.

Big Jim Wade kissed both of his gargantuan biceps, and with a smug smirk swore to jackhammer to the core, at Sunrise.

True to his word, at dawn a silhouetted Big Jim Wade stooped over his hydraulic piston-powered drill, like a Silverback Mountain Gorilla on a toddler’s scooter. He was surrounded by an engrossed baying pack of hangover-sufferers, desperate to witness the disappearance of the bothersome puffed-up carnival peacock, once and for all.

Big Jim Wade did not disappoint.

When his almighty Jackhammer cranked into life, its pneumatic power pummelled rock to pebbly powder in an instant. With mammoth arm-muscle power firmly in control, Jim did in fact cut through rock faster than an overactive Ostrich could run, to the astonishment of an engrossed baying pack of hangover-sufferers.

Jim disappeared from sight within a blink of an eye, like he’d fallen through a trapdoor into a dark abyss. For the following hours, a small doomy contingent of doom-mongers sat around the hole, half-listening to the southbound pneumatic noise, whilst casually doom-mongering, forthwith accordingly.

Then all was quiet. Silent. Eerie. Hush.

Then there was much rejoicing.

“Big Grim Maid has strayed & stayed away! Hip-Hip-Hooray!”

All of the Gem Miners were happy!

Big Jim Wade was also happy, as (according to him), he discovered that although the ‘Earth Heart’ did not actually exist, he did discover that the Earth’s core was actually (according to him), a “cavernous super-sized steam room filled with floating jellyfish, that tickle a lot as they drift around ja!”.

Jim never resurfaced again, as he found his subterranean nirvana. The lasting legacy of his jackhammering skills still remain today, known as the Kimberley ‘Big Hole’, in honour of Big Jim Wade:

Kimberley 'Big Hole'

('Kimberley Tourism' image)

Walk Like An Egyptian

Instructions Verb [Latin: ‘Ambulate Sicut Aegyptus’]

Made famous by the American pop rock band ‘The Bangles’ in 1986, this classic dad-dancing wedding reception track opens the door for dramatically ridiculous limb-movements, in the name of creative art.

Just awkwardly shuffle back and forth across the dancefloor, like a two-dimensional hieroglyphic with mesmerisingly weird ‘Z’ shaped limb movements. The more perpendicular the adjoining joints are, the better!

Origins

Ancient Egyptian Pharoah Khukhu’s evil brother, Prince Toukertouk, was bored, bored, booooooooored.

Every day, he just seemed to slump into his jewelled jacuzzi, on the shaded regal roof terrace, and stare at the construction of his ruling brother’s epic creation, ‘The Great Pyramid of Geeza’.

Khukhu gets the glory, glum Toukertouk gets the story.

But he was still bored, so Toukertouk cracked open a large jar of Nile barley beer, and proceeded to swig the swally at a phenomenal pace.

One thing led to another, and another, until he found himself swaying at the top of the newly finished pyramid, staring at a deep scarlet sunset. Toukertouk felt so invincible, that he raised both arms aloft, and proceeded to topple backwards. The impact was far from ideal, but it was notably more ideal then the subsequent tumbling and rolling down hundreds of sharp-edged granite blocks, until he slapped onto the ground, like a limp kipper.

When he awoke, four hours later, Toukertouk looked down to discover that he had successfully broken most of his limb bones…which was far from ideal.

Through gritted teeth (and numbed beer-related pain-relief), Toukertouk managed to hobble back to his opulent royal resting quarters and collapse onto his woven camel-skinned bed.

When he awoke, three weeks later, Toukertouk looked down to discover that all four of his broken limbs had fused into ridiculous ‘Z’ shape bone formations… which was far from ideal.

Walking had to be re-designed, arms had to be re-trained, but Toukertouk eventually managed to shuffle out of his marbled floor, and out into the marketplace, filled with humanity.

He yearned for contact with humanity, but humanity couldn’t do anything else, apart from staring at evil Toukertouk, as he awkwardly shuffled towards them with mesmerizingly weird ‘z’ shaped limb movements…which was far from ideal.

Prince Toukertouk’s walk became ancient Egyptian folklore and scribed in multiple hieroglyphics. The rest…is history.

Rusty Robot

Instructions Noun [Latin: ‘Ferrugineae Robot’]

With ‘Robot’ bodypopping techniques, dancers move their limbs in a way that imitates the mechanical movements of an efficient robot.

However, with ‘Rusty Robot’ bodypopping techniques, dad dancers move their decrepit fatherly limbs in a way that imitates the misfiring mechanical movements of a corroded, debilitated, inefficient, ceased-up ‘Tin Man’ robot, plagued with abrupt malfunctioning jolty stops.

Origins

Back is the summer bliss of 1974, the illusionary ‘Robot’ bodypoppin’ streetdancin’ craze exploded into a mechanised frenzy in rural France, triggered by Michael Jackson’s famous ‘Dancing Machine’ performance.

Monsieur Pascal Boulangerie was completely unware of this global ‘Dancing Machine’ phenomena, primarily due to his l’detestatiôn (hatred) of televisions, music, dancing or machines (apart from his cherished burgundy Citroën 2CV, with mustard trim…and sunroof).

However, his four-year-old son, Bàçon (pronounced ‘Bacon’) was right onto it, big time (grand temps)!

Yes indeedy (Qui Qui), this little French fella was totally obsessed with watching robot imitating performances on TV, to the beat of scintillating Electrofunk beeps, boops and other electro-mechanical sounds.

Whilst Papa Pascal slaved away in his commercial kitchen, rolling and curling raw croissants, ready for the townsfolk, young Bàçon would cover himself in aluminium foil and bodypop until the cows came home…or until Papa finished rolling and curling raw croissants, ready for the townsfolk (whichever came first).

Pascal never understood the farfelu (crazy) metalised actions of his toddler boy, but he unconditionally adored (adored) his son, and with Bàçon’s fifth birthday just around the corner, Pascal vowed to give Bàçon any present he wanted, as an eternal loving gift, Père à Fils (Father to Son).

Pascal – “Ce que vous voulez pour votre fils cinquième anniversaire?” (What would you like for your fifth birthday son?)

Bàçon – “Machine à Danser Papa!” (a ‘Dancing Machine’ Dad!)

Pascal – “Zut Alors!” (D’oh!)

The bar was très high, the challenge was set, the task was tremendous. Pascal was scared. Well peureux!

With no prior skills, experience nor knowledge of mechanical engineering, applied mathématiques or advanced électroniques. Pascal had a learning curve steeper than the Eiffel Tower on stilts. Très Mauvais. Calamité.

Notwithstanding, Pascal got stuck in, and after three solid weeks of evening research & building, Papa proudly presented his embryotic automated creation to his garçon, at his fifth birthday party.

Bàçon initially appeared puzzled by the pettiness (smallness) of the newspaper-wrapped parcelet.

Once unwrapped, the Birthday Boy could not hide his disappointment, as he stared at the light bulb with a tangled mess of wires hanging out of it.  

Papa desperately tried to reassure Bàçon, in front of his thirty-two schoolmates, that it was a highly advanced, intelligent ‘Dancing Machine’ eyeball, but Bàçon’s disappointment remained true.

Nonetheless, Pascal was so determined to build the best dancing robot in the whole wide World, he spent the following twenty-seven years producing a cavorting cyborg, with painstaking precision.

The ‘Rusty Robot’ could rock, rhumba, boogie and jive with the best of ‘em, notwithstanding the sudden & sporadic jerky piston movements, sticking & jamming to the beat of da drums!

Bàçon, now 32 with a wife and two sons (Jambon & Bougre), was so impressed with the Rusty Robot, that he sold it to a Saudi Arabian nightclub owner for US$4million and a gold-plated Citroën 2CV, with mustard trim…and sunroof.

Pascal undoubtedly earnt that gold car, and he never had to roll or curl another raw croissant (or build another robot) ever again. Jours heureux!

The Confused Swan

Instructions Verb [Latin: ‘Confusa Swan’]

There’s a lot going on in this manoeuvre, involving many emotions, like a complex feathered opera. A key tactic is to confuse your competition, so there’s nothing better than to lie down on the dance floor, like a large flustered aquatic bird.

Lie down on your back and bend your preferred leg, so that your knee is raised high and foot firmly on the floor. Rest your other foot onto the raised knee, and flap that leg like a hefty waterfowl wing. Meanwhile, flap your opposite arm like the secondary wing, and whirl your other arm around in the air, like a swivelling swan neck & head.

The most important final point is to contort your face into your most bewildered expression, ever.

Origins

In 1666, the number one, head-honcho, big-cheese, pompous alpha-male daddy swan that ‘ruled the roost’ around St James’s Park, London was ‘Swinton’ Swan (a name affectionately given to him by the local Westminster drunkards).

On most days, after gorging on crisp pond weed, a swollen Swinton Swan would slowly swim around several sluices, like an overinflated armband spinning whimsically around the turmoiled turbulence.

Afternoons would include waddling onto Duck Island, lying on his back and staring at the sky, surrounded by his loving lady swan (Gertrude) and flock of excitable cygnets.

Swinton loved watching the sky, on his back, with his great feathered airfoils resting behind his head.

But one lunchtime, he was confused. The sky was blood red?!...and it was far too early for Sunset?!

‘How confusing?’ thought Swinton.

Mild confusion turned into breezy befuddlement, when grey fluffy fingers appeared to streak through the scarlet heavens?!

Breezy befuddlement turned into perturbed puzzlement, when all birds (apart from his family) seemed to be flying West, at speed?!

Perturbed puzzlement turned into treacherous terror, when advancing screams of panicking humans filled the air!?!

‘Tis time to go…somewhere else’ thought Swinton. ‘How confusing?!’

The surreal, perplexing incident that Swinton witnessed became known as ‘The Great Fire of London’, a tragic event that confused a lot of wildlife, including humans.

‘The Confused Swan’ was the award-winning move at the World Dad Dancing Championship 2015, as shown on BBC World News.

Moody Woody

Instructions Adverb [Latin: ‘Kessinger Woody’]

With wild arms a flailing and mad legs a wailing, scrumple your face with an almighty Guern, and dance around like a lunatic, shouting “I’m Moody Woody!” Repeatedly.

Origins

In early Roman Britain (272 AD), Paulinus Pomonius (‘Paulipom’) was the stressed out Royal Auxiliary Archiver of the Imperial Roman Army, stationed in Winchester.

Paulipom was solely accountable for categorising, storing and safely transporting urns of cremated Royal Roman War Heros from Britain to Rome, back to their powerful families, under pain of death.

However, with over thirteen children, chronic hayfever and ailing eyesight, Paulipom struggled to concentrate on the enormity of his regal remembrance responsibilities, on a daily basis. However, this struggle would struggle to struggle against one Tuesday lunchtime struggles, which was struggling to say the least.

After mediating a particularly taxing, overcomplicated & gruelling midnight peacekeeping negotiation between three rivalling, overcomplicated & gruelling siblings, Paulipom was properly pooped!

The following morning, he trudged deliriously to work, tramping over his toga & turbulently trying to stay awake. Unfortunately, that particular Tuesday was particularly pollenful, and Paulipom’s tickled nostrils needed to let out some steam.

In fact, the power of Paulipom’s power sneezes knocked over and smashed an urn containing the remains of General Maximus Millimus Maximillian Millimaximus (whose family owned ‘The Colosseum’). Before he had time to reflect, a subsequent rapid firing of nasal-based air projections also toppled a series of shelved urns, like devious dominos, with dramatic effect.

A grey-faced Paulipom stared incredulously at the total destruction of the Imperial Roman Army Urn Store.

Then he reacted.

The forthcoming ferociousness of Paulipom’s ferocity fell into a frenzied frenzy. With wild arms a flailing and mad legs a wailing, he scrumpled up his face with an almighty Guern and danced away into the stinging midday sun, screaming “I’m Moody Woody!” Repeatedly.

The ‘Moody Woody’ briefly appeared in the ‘World Dad Dancing Championships 2016’ results coverage on BBC Spotlight.

Lawnmower Starter

Instructions Verb [Latin: ‘Coepi Gramina Metentis’]

Have you ever tried to start a petrol-powered lawnmower? Dads up and down the land have been frustrated by it.

But you can harness that frustration and turn it into power on the dancefloor. “I’m the mower starter, the green grass mower starter!”

Origins

On a sunkissed Sunday morn in Springtime 1938, Colonel William W. Williamson VII of Williams, Arizona, proudly wheeled his petrol-driven Brutus Z2000 lawnmower onto his grassy front patch, for some proper manly hacking action.

This immensely proud WW1 War Veteran focused all of his peacetime regimentalism on perfecting a gobsmackingly trim croquet lawn.

However, on this not so fine morning, Colonel Williamson (VII) firmly pressed his left buffed calvary boot onto the Brutus, whilst sharply yanking the starter handle upwards and whipping the pull cord, to crank the rotary, motorised, rotor-motor-mower into life, forthwith, accordingly.

That was the simple battleplan anyway. However, the Colonel rapidly lost his titanium-like composure after every dud yank.

His feisty frustration was exponentially compounded by a passing army of Williams Cub Scouts (Arizona), pointing, jeering, cackling, whooping, squealing & heckling the crusty old army dad, who was repeatedly wrenching a dead looking lawnmover.

As Colonel-based pride was paramount, William W. Williamson (VII) stiffened his upper lip and intensified the arm cranking until he passed out.

When he awoke, three days later in Williams ‘William W. Williamson III’ Hospital (Arizona), the first sight that the Colonel saw was his beloved, loyal & deeply embarrassed wife, advising him that there was absolutely no petrol in the lawnmower…”twaz drier than an old cream cracker in a heatwave Numbnuts!”.

The ‘Lawnmower Starter’ was a key move demonstrated on BBC Spotlight Live.

One Legged Mulhagen

Instructions Verb [Latin: ‘Unum Tripodes Mulhagen’]

Start on all fours with your head tilted back so you’re looking at the ceiling. Then raise your right leg backwards, as high as it goes with your foot at right-angles with your leg. Repeatedly swing that leg up and down in time with the music.

Origins 

The ‘One Legged Mulhagen’ has an interesting yet tragic history:

In 723 AD, Monk Malachy Mulhagen crawled up the ‘Stairway to Heaven’ on the mysterious Great Skellig Island, with his right leg elevated, due to a chronic bout of gout.

The relentless, unbearable pain in his right foot compelled him to battle his way up to the summit during an intense lightning storm, in order to demand God to release him from his mortal woes.

Monk Mulhagen was never seen again. Only one scorched leather sandal was ever found... and it’s currently displayed within the foyer of the Balligoon Museum of Antiquities.

The ‘One Legged Mulhagen' was a key move demonstrated on BBC Spotlight Live.