I see the next dj cueing up his pathetic slices, and his eyes just go

"Fuggin hell Michael, how am I supposed to follow that?" and I simply salute, slow and arrogant like an Adebayor, as there is no way to follow that, and my dancing hordes, subconsciously absorb Daryl's message "dreamtime, run away" and whence I leave the booth to get s**tfaced at the bar, I take the dancefloor with me leaving tracts of space that undermine the follower before he's even dropped track #1.

Posted By: MIKEWALKER on September 23rd 2014 at 10:57:13


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