Victoria has a secret

Just to give you an idea of how hard my life is, my wife "forced" me to watch the Victoria's Secret Fashion Show last night. Now for the people who don't know, it's basically all the worlds top supermodels prancing around on-stage (and back stage) in fancy underwear, and the occasional set of wings (of the Angel variety, not the kind used in other womens products). As you can imagine, it was pretty hard for me to get through it all.

All in all, it seemed like a great show - Tyra Banks was doing her last runway show (which apparently is a big deal), Heidi (Klum, not my Heidi) had an outtakes section at the end, and lots of people were running round frantic for an hour, until the end fo the big finale when people could start relaxing and having fun.

However, and this is a big however, for some reason they invited Ricky Martin to be one of the guest singers. Now apart from the fact that he had to fake liking to dance with the girls on stage (given his affection for the males in his life I speculate), he had some really weird chicken dance thing going on. It was like he was almost dancing in time, and then something took over him, and his legs went off into a world of their own. The first time I saw it, I thought I had just imagined it, but then he did it again, and the wife screamed. I swear he may have been possessed. It was so bad, it spoilt what should have been the wife's TV highlight of the year - I may have to write and complain to their marketing department about their choices, although the chances of that getting us tickets for next years show is probably remote.