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…..

- Columbia Road...7th May 2017
- I suppose it'...6th May 2017
- The local cou...5th May 2017
- The Duke of E...4th May 2017
- I always thou...3rd May 2017
- Another four ...2nd May 2017
- The sport to ...30th Apr 2017
- Quick drink w...28th Apr 2017
- The only thin...26th Apr 2017
- You know you'...22nd Apr 2017
- I'm not suppo...21st Apr 2017
- If you think ...20th Apr 2017
- Snap election...19th Apr 2017
- I'll never be...18th Apr 2017
- One more reas...17th Apr 2017 prev next