Almost four decades have passed since Pan’s People were delighting millions of men across Britain with their sultry dance routines on Top Of The Pops.

When the nation’s music-loving teenagers switched on the music chart show, they were often joined by their dads, eager for a glimpse of Babs’ cleavage or Dee Dee’s never-ending legs.

From 1968 to 1976, the girls became famous for their flirtatious moves and risquÉ outfits, provoking adulation and — from Mary Whitehouse — moral outrage.

Now BBC4 is showing weekly 1976 episodes of the defunct show, prompting the question: whatever happened to the gorgeous dancers who once set male pulses racing on a weekly basis?

The Mail has reunited four of the original dance troupe’s classic line-up and taken them on a trip down memory lane.

Lovely movers: The four Pan's People veterans recreate one of their elegant Seventies poses

 

Sultry sirens: Louise, Babs, Dee Dee and Ruth show a leg on Top of the Pops

LOUISE DOBSON, nee Clarke, 61, lives in Woodbridge, Suffolk. She was widowed last year when entrepreneur husband Tony died at 77. She has one son, Tony, 33, a financial consultant.

I was a teenager when I joined the group in 1967, and the others were always protective of me. I loved being on stage. I never got nervous. And I was quite confident about baring my body — we had great figures in those days.

Louise Dobson was widowed last year

But we weren’t crude. Top Of The Pops was a family show. I couldn’t see us working today — dancers in music videos are far more sexualised than we were.

Even then, some people thought we were too much. Mary Whitehouse couldn’t bear us and complained to the BBC all the time.

There’s even a Trivial Pursuit question — ‘What dance group did Mary Whitehouse want banned from the BBC?’ It was hilarious when I got that card while playing the game a few years ago.

It probably worked because we were all very different, and looked different. Offstage, we all liked each other and virtually lived together.

Watching a recording of Pan’s  People over Easter, I came across our performance of The Beatles’ Yesterday on The Two Ronnies from 1973. We were wearing beautiful off-white long frocks, moving together as one, perfectly in time. We were bloody good!

I left in 1974 because I was in love and wanted to start a family. I met my husband Tony on the night of my 21st birthday. He wasn’t jealous of the attention I got from other men, but he was nervous I would meet someone else. I constantly reassured him that he was the only one for me.

We had a son, bought a beautiful house in Sheffield, with an apartment in London and a villa in St Tropez. Initially I was a stay-at-home mum, but in my 30s I helped run a beauty salon and even started my own motorbike courier service.

My relationship with the girls has never faded. We have always been there for each other, through good times and bad. Last year was a terrible one as I lost my husband. The girls were there for me completely. It helps to have friends who have shared so much.

You can’t buy an experience like Pan’s People, or friendships like this.

Babs Powell is a charity fundraiser and adventurer

BABS POWELL, nee Lord, 66,  is a charity fundraiser and adventurer. She lives in Highgate, North London, with her husband, actor Robert Powell, 66. They have two grown-up children — Barney and Kate.

I'd always wanted to be a  ballet dancer, but I filled out too much and my big boobs got in the way. Pan’s People was my way of realising my dream. It wasn’t always easy, but we flooded the BBC with our ideas and eventually we got the job on Top Of The Pops.

We met incredible people, from Jimi Hendrix and the Rolling Stones to Bing Crosby and Gene Kelly. And we almost met Prince Charles when he visited the studio, but someone realised our white dresses were  see-through, so we were asked to wander off.

I suppose we were risquÉ by very conservative standards. But I  honestly don’t think we thought a lot about it — even though some of our costumes were held together with toupee tape.

They were ‘saucy’, as my husband put it — but we didn’t set out to  titillate. We were trained dancers and were used to wearing leotards and small tight costumes.

We didn’t really get any more attention when we were out than other young ladies. Actually, if anything it was the other way round — fewer men approached us because they were intimidated.

I met Robert in 1975. He watched Pan’s People and apparently he liked the big blonde one — me! He engineered to take us out for supper, and the rest is history.

I retired from the group after meeting him. Robert was about to go to North Africa to play the title role in the TV series Jesus Of Nazareth. There wasn’t the pressure back then to have a career and a family, and I wanted to devote my time to Robert.

In 1997, I entered what I call my adventurous phase. I ran the  London Marathon for The Lord’s Taverners, who raise money for  disadvantaged children. In 2000 I took part in a charity round-the-world yacht race. Since then I’ve trekked to the North and South Poles, Iceland, Nepal and the Sahara, jumped out of a plane and walked the Great Wall of China.

It keeps me young, and is always for a good cause. But I still get recognised from Pan’s People. Last weekend, during a trek, I got stopped by a woman who told me she loved the group and asked for my autograph.

It’s lovely to be remembered for something we did so long ago — it shows the impact we made.

Dee Dee Wilde teaches dance near her home in Wiltshire

DEE DEE WILDE was 19 when she joined Pan’s People. Now 64, she teaches dance in village halls near her home in Trowbridge, Wiltshire. She is engaged to Henry Marsh, a composer and former member of the Seventies band Sailor. She has two children, Alexander, 31, a captain in the Welsh Guards, and events organiser Poppy, 26.

I can still remember the night it all began. Babs, Flick Colby (one of the other dancers, who was responsible for the choreography) and I were sitting around with a bottle of wine in a dingy flat trying to name our new dance group.

My suggestion of ‘Dionysus’s  Darlings’ didn’t go down well. It was Flick who came up with ‘Pan’s People’ — Pan is the Greek god of dance, music and debauchery. The irony is, when we first started out we earned so little we lived on a diet of chips and mayonnaise.

We got our big break with Top Of The Pops. When the BBC saw their viewing figures shoot up to 20 million whenever we were on, they gave us a permanent job.

There were some awful outfits, though. Poor Ruth once ended up in a gorilla costume. I still have my marabou stole from the Beatles’ Get Back dance I wore in 1969.

And I’ve got the tartan knickers from our dance to Rod Stewart’s Maggie May in 1971. They still fit: I’m still the same size — a ten — as I was back then.

I also kept Arthur, the fake crocodile I dragged around  during our routine to Elton John’s Crocodile Rock in 1972.

But even when we were rolling around on pillows doing suggestive routines, we never felt exploited or uncomfortable. I only ever felt beautiful and lovely. We had an incredible innocence back then. Even when some of our dancing was full of innuendo, we never set out to have sex appeal. We were more the girls next door.

That said, I loved the attention we got from men, especially members of the Armed Forces, who we performed for in Mombasa and Malta.

It was flattering to have so many compliments and to have builders whistle at us as we walked past — something that rarely happens to me now.

But men did tend to find us formidable when we were together — few would have the guts to approach us. And, perhaps surprisingly, we had just as many female followers. We’d get fan letters from grandfathers of 80 and children who wanted to use our costumes for a school project.

After the group disbanded in 1976, I set up a dance studio in London — the Dance Attic. But I relocated to the West Country several years ago with my fiancÉ Henry Marsh, who I first met on Top Of The Pops nearly 40 years ago.

I’m rarely recognised now. It was difficult at first, coming to terms with getting older and accepting that I wasn’t young and pretty any more. But I’m much more at peace with it now I’m in my 60s.

To avoid sitting around, I formed a club to teach ‘vintage divas’ disco and modern dance in local halls. Now I have 300 to 400 regulars aged from 22 to 82. I love it. I’ll be  dancing until they wheel me out.

Ruth Pearson worked in IT for local government after Pan's People

RUTH PEARSON,  64, is single and lives in Fulham, West London. After Pan’s People, she worked in IT for local government before retiring four years ago.

The 1960s and 1970s were such a wonderful time to be young — it really felt like we were part of something special. Pan’s People was rather like a pop group. Instead  of performing someone else’s choreography, we did our own.

I always loved to dance, as a child growing up in Surrey, one of my  earliest memories is of my parents taking me to see the ballet at  Covent Garden.

I won a scholarship to the Ballet Rambert school when I was 12. Later, in 1966, I met the girls and never looked back.

On Top Of The Pops, we usually only had a day to prepare our  routines. It was very intense. But we had amazing experiences. We danced through the audience to George Harrison’s My Sweet Lord in 1971 and it was almost spiritual.

But I also remember a routine on trapezes in the 1970s. I’m afraid of heights. If you watch it back, you can see me sitting up in the air, a look of terror on my face.

I was the longest-serving member of Pan’s. I was 30 by the time of the final performance in 1976, which is pretty good for a dancer.

After working in a fish restaurant and teaching yoga and keep-fit, I took a secretarial course in my 30s. Just before I was 40, I got a job in local government admin, which led to an IT job until I retired.

I managed to keep my past secret for several years. People do change towards you when they find out. Most are thrilled, but others aren’t very nice, perhaps due to jealousy.

I’m still single — I never seemed to have much luck on that front, and I think now it’s probably too late. I like my freedom too much.

I’m not very sentimental about my time in Pan’s. I never kept any old costumes and don’t have many photos — but the other girls are still like sisters to me.