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 man who m...19th May 2014
- The reason I'...18th May 2014
- Highbury and ...17th May 2014
- Cruising.16th May 2014
- It's not that...15th May 2014
- Beautiful day...14th May 2014
- The Radio Aca...13th May 2014
- I watched Son...12th May 2014
- A song about ...11th May 2014
- If Nigel Fara...10th May 2014
- To Soho House...9th May 2014
- Ever wondered...8th May 2014
- The session s...7th May 2014
- From Chav Gra...6th May 2014
- It's sunny.5th May 2014 prev next