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…..

- Coffee and ca...29th May 2015
- My daughter t...28th May 2015
- It'll never h...26th May 2015
- "Peter Kay's"...24th May 2015
- For Denis….23rd May 2015
- My wife was c...22nd May 2015
- The worst sor...17th May 2015
- Chuka chucks ...16th May 2015
- I never go to...15th May 2015
- 70th annivers...10th May 2015
- Tories win th...9th May 2015
- Look…..7th May 2015
- RIP Errol Bro...6th May 2015
- Isn't he drea...3rd May 2015
- All Hail The ...28th Apr 2015 prev next