Exercise Move of the Month: Dancing to 99 Red Balloons

It’s that time again, exercise lovers! That’s right, time to drop those pounds and get physical with my Exercise Move of the Month. This month’s move is brought to you by people who use music to define their personalities, particularly wanker-quirks who listen to 80s music and are all like ‘Woooooo, I’m a bit of a mad one because the 1980s are known for producing a particularly bad music genre, and yet I love it, because I like to be ironic!’ and shit like that. I’m terrified that I’m one of those people, but I like to think that if I know I am one of them, then I’m not actually one of them.

I think that as long as I don’t wear a pair of thick-rimmed glasses in a zany colour in any serious capacity, then I’m alright.

Anyways, 99 Red Balloons is an iconic 80’s song, notorious for being a bit shit and hilarious- two of the main qualities that any truly ’80s song must comprise. And dancing to it- well, that just takes you to a new realm of embarrassment. And what does embarrassment equal? Sweating. Which leads to weight loss.

Well, last week I read that sweating has nothing to do with weight loss, so perhaps not. But fuck up. We’re doing it anyway.

Step One

Find yourself at a disco that either doesn’t know it’s shit, or is trying to be kitsch and 80’s to accomodate demand from hipster-types, which is just shit but doesn’t know it. While at this disco, hear the words spoken (at a pace slightly too fast for the music),

‘You and I at a little toy shop

Buy a bag of balloons with the money we’ve got…’

Realise that 99 Red Balloons is coming on and immediately feel the burn in your hands as you turn around, giving the group of hapless cunts you’re out with an enthusiastic thumbs up. You may even want to work out your jaw by opening your mouth with an excited expression that says ‘What a pack of mad twats we are, out at a disco that plays novelty songs. LOLz’. You prick.

Step Two

It gets to the bit of the song where Nena stops talking and the highly synthesized beat kicks in, being as shit as it can absolutely be. Work out those neck muscles by doing the obligatory dance move where you thrust your skull as far from your neck as possible to the beat of the song, much like a chicken having a stroke.

Step Three

When the lyrics and music are in full throttle, the cardiovascular activity beings. Fling yourself around the dancefloor wildly, or, if you’re the type of person who likes to communicate the fact that they don’t fit in through the medium of alternative band t-shirts advertising tours that occured before your birth, you could even mosh a bit, just because you’re a bit of a general dickhead. If you’re a pretty female, you could use this time to bump into other pretty females on the dancefloor passive aggressively. If none of these options occur to you, then just spend your time accidentally knocking my entire pint over me. I don’t mind at all.

Step Four

Wind down from all of that cardio when Nena goes on some spoken ramble that kills the mood completely near the end of the song. Bring your heart rate back down to resting level by standing about awkwardly, swaying from side to side and not looking anyone in the eye. You don’t know the lyrics to this part because they’re too nonsensical for your brain to allow you to remember, but if other people see that you don’t know all of the lyrics, you’ll lose credibility as someone who forces their catalogue of musical knowledge upon others as some sort of pedestal. Best use this time to take a swig of your drink, while giving your cunt friends a thumbs up to imply that you knew the lyrics all along.

Step Five

The song is on it’s last legs. Thank god for that. While Nena finishes with the line, ‘I think of you and let it go…‘, work out your arm muscles by jerking that drink from your mouth and miming along in an obvious manner, ensuring that you keep up the pretence of ‘musical genius’ that you’ve self-styled yourself as. End strong as you give lots more thumbs up to your mates. This not only keeps your reflexes sharp but also serves as a self-gratifying reminder that you’re all kooky as fuck.

And, rest!

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