Wayne and Sandra (Fred and Ginger)
David Brown & Pete Atkin

Sandra sits like wax behind the glass at Nat West
Checking cash and cashing cheques
And as her fingers dance across the Queen’s young features
In her mind she’s counting steps
For tonight’s the night when she and Wayne
Him in black and her in red
Swirl and twirl and dip and slide and glide
With whiplash movements of the head
She’ll play Ginger to his Fred

Wayne’s an end-user, big company computer
Tapping keys and keeping tabs
His desk is laid out like an Army kit inspection
Each manoeuvre meticulously mapped
He decides that if they win the prize
He and Sandra will wed
Dance floor marriage – he the engine, she the carriage
Him the leader, she the led
She’ll play Ginger to his Fred

Sandra’s standing next to Wayne in next to nothing
Flashing parts of parting flesh
Two sets of teeth get in formation and start dazzling
Like the sequins on her dress
They synchronise their calves and thighs
Like a well-bred quadruped
Fast and slowly – Quick Step, Fox-Trot, Pasa Doble
Through the dance book A to Z
She plays Ginger to his Fred

A simple girl who shops in tracksuits
Cinderella of the suburbs
But in her make up and her dancing glass shoes
You'd swear that Fred Astaire could never hunger for another

They end the set in sweating statuesque positions
Just leaving heaving chests
They’d nursed and rehearsed acceptance speech ambitions
But the judge was not impressed
Their eyes say cry – their smiles say lie
Both wishing they were dead
One more no-no - home alone for cocoa
And trudge those weary steps to bed
The words she longed for left unsaid