He was a pale, tubby, studious boy.

In his green blazer and thick glasses, it’s hard to imagine anyone looking less like a Rastafarian than Michael Garvey. So obviously, we would go up to him in the playground, nod our heads slowly, pretend to be stoned and sing “Hivrybody lov Maychael Garvey”. God, he must have got fed up with it. Or perhaps he didn’t. Perhaps this track inspired him to grow shoulder-length dreads and praise Jah. I do hope so. It would be nice to think that the world’s most unlikely Rasta is sitting out on a balcony on this warm summer evening rolling himself a huge spliff.