The Lord of the Dance was always fanatically driven, practising for sixteen hours a day in his teens. His body now bears the damage of that era. But he still wants more. He discusses love, passion, pride and performing for Donald TrumpMichael Flatley’s feet used to move so fast, they tapped 35 times a second and required a £25m insurance policy on his legs. He hasn’t danced for nearly 10 years – not even in his own quiet way any more, he says – but the “feet of flames” that bewitched 60 million over more than four decades must now be in one hell of a state.We are sitting at a table in the emptied breakfast room of the InterContinental hotel in Dublin when Flatley whips his right foot out on to the seat beside me: size eight, small and sockless in unflashy black sneakers. If my feet had put me on the Sunday Times Rich List, I say, I’d dress them in silk socks and stroke them each night to thank them. “Well, listen,” he says. “I don’t really give any of that any thought. To be honest, I don’t think much about me.” Continue reading...