For his solo, he comes out dancing to James Brown, dressed like James Brown (albeit looking like Morris Day), dancing his ass off. It's awesome, and I wish we could have seen more of it. On the other hand, then we might not have found out that he got into dancing when he was a little kid because when he was a little kid he saw someone dance, so it's six of one, half a dozen of the other, I guess.

Mark's dancing with Comfort, and they're doing foxtrot and hip-hop. The hip-hop is with Tabatha and Napoleon. Comfort's excited, what with her being awesome at hip-hop, and Mark's excited, what with Comfort being awesome at hip-hop.

"Party People" by Fergie. School desks on stage. I think Mark is the good student, while Comfort is the bad-ass. And then the real dancing begins, and they're both bad-asses! Theoretically, anyway; Mark seems to equate "stick out my lower lip" with "tough." It's not bad, though. Mark is surprisingly good, and Comfort's really good. It's easily my favorite Taboleon routine, featuring a cool -- I don't even know what to call it. Comfort flips up and over Mark's head and down his back.

When they're done, Mark reveals what they were writing in detention: "I will not be in the bottom..." over and over again. Cough. Cough, cough.

Nigel seems oddly put out by Mark's joke, like it's insulting to America or something, and goes on to say that Comfort dances much better when she's choreographed than when she dances solo. "There were no steps in your solo," he says. Not fair! He's not supposed to comment on the solos! Mary says they did a great job. "I loved the use of the desks, all the synchronization up there was really terrific," she says, singling out Comfort for special praise, while also saying she thought Mark nailed it. Toni says she knows how hard Taboleon's stuff can be, because she takes a class from them every so often. Then she talks about the street and how there's a squareness to hip-hop (well, you take a class from Tabitha and Napoleon, so you would know), but you have to find the groove. Congratulations, Mia Michaels: you are no longer the judge who makes the least sense.