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…..

- No, no, I've ...16th Feb 2014
- Fed up with e...15th Feb 2014
- Ladies and ge...14th Feb 2014
- Why McCartney...13th Feb 2014
- Glorious love...12th Feb 2014
- The greatest ...11th Feb 2014
- Don't you hat...10th Feb 2014
- Knitting need...9th Feb 2014
- People from L...8th Feb 2014
- "Working in a...7th Feb 2014
- It's a nation...6th Feb 2014
- My mum worked...5th Feb 2014
- Yes, yes, we ...4th Feb 2014
- Whispering Bo...3rd Feb 2014
- The thing abo...2nd Feb 2014 prev next