Just like the Fish Dancer of old, old days, this one dances butterflies. Not dances with, nor she makes the little fluttering darlings dance. She dances them. And the butterflies just love it. The Sun, on the other hand thinks the whole activity a frivolous display of...fucknowswhat. He's in rather a bad mood lately, poor mite. Never mind the Sun, though. I’ve half a mind to ask the swingy young miss to come and bloody dance me. I could do with a bit on mystic boogy-woogy