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…..

- Farewell to m...18th Mar 2014
- I'm not going...17th Mar 2014
- I went to Hel...16th Mar 2014
- In defence of...15th Mar 2014
- The man who s...14th Mar 2014
- I've got the ...13th Mar 2014
- For some reas...12th Mar 2014
- Just because ...11th Mar 2014
- Well, we got ...10th Mar 2014
- It happens ev...9th Mar 2014
- RIP Harold Ra...8th Mar 2014
- To the 606 Cl...7th Mar 2014
- Young, gifted...6th Mar 2014
- So what are y...5th Mar 2014
- Hooray! In S...4th Mar 2014 prev next