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…..

- The trouble w...16th Jul 2015
- Unlikely cham...15th Jul 2015
- Camden anti-g...14th Jul 2015
- My daughter w...13th Jul 2015
- Sometimes thi...11th Jul 2015
- Bumped into m...9th Jul 2015
- Everyone's a ...5th Jul 2015
- So where woul...3rd Jul 2015
- 35 degrees. ...1st Jul 2015
- To the Royal ...30th Jun 2015
- Pride pool pa...28th Jun 2015
- I don't have ...27th Jun 2015
- Fleetwood Mac...26th Jun 2015
- Happy Birthda...25th Jun 2015
- Did no one at...23rd Jun 2015 prev next