Billy, Ronnie and Bob.

…were three Indian boys who worked at the cinema where I had a part time job. These weren’t their real names and I was reminded of this when listening to a documentary on Radio 4 about Asian immigrants who came to this country in the 60s and 70s. One interviewee talked about how he and his fellow migrants were never called by their real names but by random English ones like Billy, Ronnie and Bob. Far from being offended, he said they liked it. It made them feel welcome and accepted. This tune reminds me of clubbing in Soho with them, then being delivered home at 3am courtesy of “Paki Cabs” – their words not mine – run by Billy’s uncle from a dingy basement just off Leicester Square. They were great fun and I’d love to track them down. But how can I? I never did find out their real names.