NO DUMMIES

By mixing business logic with vulgar chutzpah, the new bosses at Tussauds have jolted a moribund business back to life. The old lady must be spinning happily in her grave. Andrew Davidson reports.

Dance with Kylie. You can. Step round the gaggles of Japanese, Germans and Brits clicking away in the garden party set of Madame Tussaud's, the London waxwork show, and one room further on, there you'll find her. She's waiting for you, her elbows on the floor, her bum in the air and, if you bend to listen, a whisper in her mouth. Nearby, a pole on a podium beckons.

Step up, strut your stuff to the music, and with the wonders of modern audiovisual technology, your image conjoins with hers ...