You Spin me right right round

 

You Spin Me Right, Right Round

It was Friday night, and Stg. Salty had made a decision.

A terrible decision.

Possibly the worst decision since Ye Olde Large Lad had attempted to microwave a tin of beans.

“Tonight,” announced Stg. Salty, standing proudly beside his Leopard 2 tank, “we are going clubbing!”

There was silence.

Then Dinkz raised an eyebrow.

“Clubbing?”

“Yep.”

“In Dublin?”

“Yep.”

“In that tank?”

Salty looked at the Leopard 2.

“Obviously.”

McFinley sighed.

“I've a feeling this is going to cost me money.”

Quags grinned.

“I've a feeling it's going to cost someone a taxi.”

WhizzAir immediately produced a clipboard.

“Right, lads. I've organised transport, accommodation, club entry, emergency snacks and a backup emergency taxi.”

Everyone stared at him.

“What?” he said. “Last time we went out, Salty tried to order a kebab using military radio terminology.”

“That kebab was a tactical operation!” Salty protested.

Sarah, Susan, Lucy and Laura arrived just as the Misfits were climbing into the tank.

Sarah looked at it.

“You're not seriously going to a nightclub in that?”

Salty smiled.

“Of course not.”

Everyone relaxed.

“We're taking the fast cars.”

Everyone immediately looked worried again.

---

The Jaguer Bomb Incident

The Misfits eventually arrived outside one of Dublin's busiest clubs.

Music was thumping through the walls.

The queue stretched around the corner.

Salty looked at it.

“Absolutely not.”

He marched towards the entrance.

The bouncer crossed his arms.

“Sorry, lads. Queue starts back there.”

Salty pointed dramatically towards the tank parked around the corner.

“But I have a tank.”

The bouncer didn't blink.

“So does every second lad after three pints.”

Salty stared at him.

“I like this man.”

Fortunately, the group eventually got inside.

The music was already booming.

Lights flashed across the dance floor.

Everyone headed towards the bar.

McFinley ordered a soft drink.

Salty ordered something sensible.

Ye Olde Large Lad ordered something that came in a bucket.

Then Quags appeared holding two tiny glasses.

“What's that?”

“Jaguer Bombs!”

Salty looked suspiciously at the little glasses.

“What's in them?”

“Jaguer and Red Bull.”

Salty nodded.

“Ah. Liquid rocket fuel.”

“Exactly.”

“Give me one.”

Dinkz immediately grabbed his arm.

“Maybe don't start with six.”

“I'm a trained professional.”

“You once got dizzy on a roundabout.”

“That was tactical.”

The first Jaguer Bomb disappeared.

Salty slammed the empty glass onto the bar.

“RIGHT!”

Everyone jumped.

“THE NIGHT HAS BEGUN!”

---

Up on the Dance Floor

The DJ changed the track.

The opening beat of “You Spin Me Round (Like a Record)” blasted through the club.

Salty's eyes widened.

“Ohhhhhhh yes!”

He grabbed McFinley.

“COME ON!”

“I don't dance!”

“You do tonight!”

And suddenly Stg. Salty was on the dance floor.

Arms everywhere.

Feet going in directions that had never been scientifically documented.

His interpretation of “busting a groove” appeared to involve approximately 40% dancing and 60% attempting not to collide with other people.

Sarah was laughing.

“Look at him!”

Susan joined in.

“He thinks he's a professional!”

Lucy started dancing beside them.

Laura shouted over the music:

“Salty! You're going the wrong way!”

“THERE IS NO WRONG WAY!”

He spun around.

Nearly collided with Dinkz.

Spun again.

Nearly collided with Quags.

Spun once more.

“YOU SPIN ME RIGHT—”

“RIGHT ROUND!” everyone shouted.

The entire group joined in.

For several glorious minutes, the Misfits became the most chaotic dance troupe in Dublin.

---

Up Close and Personal

As the dance floor filled, everyone ended up dancing shoulder-to-shoulder.

Salty found himself surrounded by the group.

Sarah dancing beside him.

Susan behind him.

Lucy and Laura laughing nearby.

Quags attempting something that looked suspiciously like breakdancing.

Dinkz simply bouncing to the beat.

And Ye Olde Large Lad?

He had somehow acquired a glow stick.

Nobody knew where it came from.

“Where did you get that?” asked Salty.

“Don't know.”

“You've been gone thirty seconds.”

“Don't ask questions.”

The DJ changed the song.

The beat dropped.

Everyone moved closer together as the crowd surged towards the centre of the dance floor.

Salty shouted:

“THIS IS WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT!”

He started dancing with even more enthusiasm.

Then someone bumped into him.

He spun.

Someone else bumped into him.

He spun again.

Quags shouted:

“SALTY, STOP SPINNING!”

“I CAN'T!”

“You're going to take off!”

“I'm basically a helicopter!”

And with that, Salty performed another spectacular spin.

The crowd cheered.

He bowed.

“Thank you, Dublin!”

---

The Second Round

Back at the bar, WhizzAir was conducting a head count.

“Everyone still here?”

“Yep.”

“Anyone lost?”

“Not yet.”

“Anyone found?”

Ye Olde Large Lad raised his hand.

“I found chips.”

WhizzAir sighed.

“That wasn't what I meant.”

McFinley looked at Salty.

“You've had enough.”

Salty looked offended.

“I've only had—”

Dinkz interrupted.

“Four.”

“Four what?”

“Jaguer Bombs.”

Salty paused.

“That's barely a battalion.”

“NO MORE.”

Salty reluctantly accepted a glass of water.

He took one sip.

“This is terrible.”

“It's water.”

“Exactly.”

Sarah laughed.

“Come on, Salty. One more dance.”

Salty immediately jumped up.

“NOW YOU'RE TALKING!”

---

The Misfits Take Over

The DJ announced another classic.

The dance floor erupted.

Salty and Sarah started dancing.

Susan and Lucy joined them.

Laura grabbed Dinkz.

Quags began dancing with a traffic cone someone had inexplicably brought into the club.

WhizzAir stood at the edge, recording everything on his phone.

McFinley was still trying to understand how the evening had reached this point.

Then Ye Olde Large Lad appeared beside him.

“Dance?”

“No.”

“Come on.”

“No.”

“You'll enjoy it.”

“No.”

“There's chips afterwards.”

McFinley stood up.

“Lead the way.”

Within seconds, even McFinley was dancing.

The Misfits were officially out of control.

Salty threw his arms into the air.

“EVERYONE!”

The group looked at him.

“WHAT?”

“WHEN THIS SONG COMES ON…”

He pointed dramatically at the DJ booth.

“…WE SPIN!”

The DJ changed tracks.

Salty waited.

The beat kicked in.

“SPIN!”

Everyone spun.

Sarah laughed so hard she nearly fell over.

Susan grabbed her.

Lucy spun into Laura.

Laura spun into Dinkz.

Dinkz spun into Quags.

Quags somehow remained standing.

Ye Olde Large Lad spun.

The glow stick flew through the air.

WhizzAir caught it.

The entire group cheered.

---

The Taxi Home

Eventually, the club lights came on.

The Misfits stood outside blinking at the early-morning sky.

Nobody knew what time it was.

McFinley checked his phone.

“Four seventeen.”

Salty stared at him.

“Morning?”

“Morning.”

“Feels like yesterday.”

WhizzAir had already ordered taxis.

Then everyone heard a familiar engine.

A huge Leopard 2 tank rolled slowly around the corner.

The bouncer from earlier stared at it.

Salty grinned.

“Taxi's here.”

McFinley shook his head.

“I'm not getting into that thing.”

Five minutes later, he was sitting inside it.

Ye Olde Large Lad was eating chips.

Quags was asleep.

Dinkz was trying to find the glow stick.

Sarah, Susan, Lucy and Laura were laughing about the night's dancing.

Salty sat proudly at the controls.

“Right, Misfits.”

Everyone groaned.

“What now?”

Salty smiled.

“We go home.”

Everyone relaxed.

“...And then,” he continued, “we're doing it again next Friday.”

There was absolute silence.

Then everyone shouted:

“NOOOOOOO!”

Salty laughed.

The tank rolled off into the Dublin night.

And somewhere behind them, the club was still playing “You Spin Me Round.”

Salty turned up the radio.

“ONE MORE TIME!”

Quags opened one eye.

“If you start spinning this tank…”

Salty grinned.

“Too late.”

The Leopard 2 turned gently onto the road.

Everyone screamed.

“STTTTTGGGG. SALTYYYYYYY!”

Salty laughed.

“YOU SPIN ME RIGHT, RIGHT ROUND!”

And the Misfits disappeared into the night, leaving behind nothing but an empty pile of Jaguer Bomb glasses, one mysterious glow stick...

…and a very confused traffic cone.