This story was told to me by Jim, a friend at my first year at university. I was sceptical at the story, and became more sceptical with every new depth. Then Jim showed me the video they had made of the Vogue Master, and I had no choice but to believe. Any inaccuracies can be blamed on the passage of ten years since I watched the video. Stockport. 1990. Madonna had rocketed the Vogue phenomenon from black gay disco into drunken slapperland. One young man, not the most popular boy in his year, became entranced with the hypnotic fluid roboticism of the dance, and confided in one of his more sympathetic colleagues. "Jim. I'm not a good looking bloke. There's only one way I'm going to get the girls, and that's by learning to vogue." Receiving nothing but encouragement from Jim, our man spent night after night practising in a basement. He emerged, months later, with a radiant confidence that was only let down by his utter inability to vogue. And still, he received nothing but encouragement from his friends, who told him they were so impressed that they wanted to make a video of him. The video contained classic moments; Vogue Master cupping his head in his hands and demanding "What You Lookin' At?", a manager describing his plans for this one man miracle, interviews with adoring female fans, and best of all, a Teen Wolf moment of the Vogue Master dancing on the roof of a white van, driving in very slow circles around the college car park. Copies of the video sold very well. I just wish I had a copy of the video to show you all. I also wish I'd kept in touch with Jim; a man who was wasted on Town Planning. Apparently the Vogue Master came to his senses in 1991, and no longer likes to talk about this period of his life.