'And I Won't Turn Out Like My Dad' said The Proclaimers.

Take 70 p 3s and p 4s. Dress them up like teenagers. Pack them into a big dark hot and sweaty space. Continually shine bright coloured, flashy lights in their little faces. Shout indecipherable messages at them through a horrendously loud and fuzzy P.A system like a North Korean Dictator.

Get them to respond by screaming at the top of their voices, all 70! Pour smoke liberally over their heads, creating a multi-coloured fog. Deafen them with excruciatingly loud music with questionable lyrics and inappropriate body girations. Encourage them to hurtle around wildly out of control for 60 minutes and call it dancing. Feed them junk food and drinks laced with the latest up-to-date additives. Wind the little critters up as tight as you can.

And when they are suitably hyper, soaked in sweat and dehydrated, little heads thumping, return them to the parents quietly waiting at the side of the hall, fiddling with their Blackberrys.

Friends, Parents, Children, let us celebrate Easter with a disco.

Am I starting to sound like ..........?