And what was No.1 when I emerged into a back bedroom in London NW2? A week earlier, it would have been Elvis. A week later, Ray Charles. But no, Pick of the Pops that week was this “humorous” ditty by an unknown cockney actor called Mike Sarne, accompanied by a young Wendy Richard who was already sounding as stroppy and miserable as Pauline Fowler. It isn’t a “classic”, it isn’t “timeless”, it’s dreadful. But Mike and Wendy evoke the time and place of my birth perfectly – in a way neither Elvis or Ray Charles ever could. And isn’t that what a birthday record should do?
Today is my birthday…..

- There's nothi...6th Sep 2017
- The Graduate.3rd Sep 2017
- True story.31st Aug 2017
- Would Robert ...29th Aug 2017
- I didn't brin...28th Aug 2017
- The greatest?27th Aug 2017
- The death of ...20th Aug 2017
- Variety Club ...19th Aug 2017
- My cousin the...16th Aug 2017
- More than jus...9th Aug 2017
- Evelyn "Champ...6th Aug 2017
- My second fav...5th Aug 2017
- Very nearly a...3rd Aug 2017
- It's August.1st Aug 2017
- Stan.30th Jul 2017 prev next