Linedancing? In Chiswick? Turns out it's a hoot

Line dancing? It was this or paying £50 for three lamb chops in the new place on top of the Hilton.

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No thanks. Besides, critics race to review first and I reckon Jay Rayner likes to cut a rug. So my fiancée Twiggy gamely agreedgamely in the sense she said, "I don't have a choice, do I?" - and off we scampered, her having readied herself with roper heels, Western denim and gingham, and me having prepared by...not shaving. It can't really be the thought that counts.

It's not clear if the owners have been to London before, given Lil' Nashville is found in Chiswick, never to my knowledge mistaken for the home of honky-tonk. Can many people really be heading into genteel west London for a night of Miller Lites and do-sidos? Apparently so: a booking to dine does not grant automatic access to the dancing itself, though curiously the website rather obscures this. "You can follow the screen on the bar," came the apology from our server - they do not stock waitresses here - nodding to a trio doing exactly that. "I'd let you by the stage, but there's no room." So it was: over by the amps, a truckercapped man led a lesson to a room of cut-off shorts and white cowboy boots.

Synchronised clapping and Cotton Eye Joe. Why not? Apparently the hardcore, armed with Stetsons, do their own moves to live bands every weekend.