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…..

- Why this song...1st Jul 2016
- Hart Beat.28th Jun 2016
- Britain votes...24th Jun 2016
- Oh God, this ...23rd Jun 2016
- Going undergr...22nd Jun 2016
- I think I mig...19th Jun 2016
- When I'm Seve...18th Jun 2016
- From priceles...17th Jun 2016
- I didn't stay...14th Jun 2016
- We have to st...12th Jun 2016
- Arise, Sir Ro...11th Jun 2016
- The (sort of)...9th Jun 2016
- It's all gone...8th Jun 2016
- No, I'd never...7th Jun 2016
- A man, two de...6th Jun 2016 prev next