'You have to feel the music,' he said. To dance is to live. A purist of the Corfiot dance, he took it all around the world. Joy of joys, he once performed at Sidmouth.
He bowed to a greater skill, however, when he introduced us to a large, yellowing moustache trying its best to conceal the bulk of a smiling, elderly man called Nikos, whose English stretched to 'very good' and 'problem'.
'When he was younger,' Zorbas said. 'he could do the scissors.'
'Very good,' Nikos winked. 'Problem.'
But it was a sedate and graceful dance in the plateia that night, reminiscent of a pair of pigeons performing a mating ritual on the Liston in Corfu Town.
Meanwhile Mr Grigg was cowering inside the lean-to lavatory as a group of schoolboys let off five firecrackers all in a row.
As he emerged, shaken and a little stirred, The Village People kicked in with YMCA, leaving us with no alternative but to take to the dance floor, flanked by Zorbas, the Jackson-Travolta love-child and two small girls.
I had a sense of Queen's Diamond Jubilee deja vu from Lush Places back in the summer.
At the table in front of us, Nikos the scissor-dancing man raised a bottle of Retsina.
'Very good,' he said. 'Problem.'
That's about it.
Love Maddie x