The Tammy Wynette original has one of those gimmicks so deathless that every songwriter in Nashville must have wished they’d hit on it first. Connolly’s parody skewers it without sneering at it, and a lot of the spelling-out fun is just carried over from the source. It doesn’t have a great deal of replay value but it makes me smile, which is as much as you can reasonably ask of it.
In a way its gentleness surprises me – Connolly had a playground reputation for unbridled filth, the kind of comedian wicked older brothers would own albums by: I didn’t have an older brother so I never got to confirm or deny it. Surely “D.I.V.O.R.C.E.” wasn’t this clean live? Of course he wouldn’t have been allowed any more than the bleeps he gets, but anyhow this works better clean – an affectionate pastiche rather than a dunk in the gutter.
Score: 5
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Is this the first on-record bleeping out? And did it exist as a radio thing before (I assume yes!)?
No – there was “A Boy Named Sue” in ’69 which bleeped out the expression “son of a bitch.”
These days Solo Concert sounds remarkably tame when compared with Connolly’s later work but the double album is reputedly Scotland’s all-time best seller, even if mostly to adolescent boys looking for a bit of local snotty colour, and things like his controversial “Crucifixion” routine (where the Last Supper is revealed to have taken place, not in Galilee, but in Gallowgate – “near the Cross…NEAR THE CROSS ach for-GET it!”) and his demolition of Scotland’s own Elvis-style jumpsuited country hero Sydney Devine on “Nobody’s Child” are still a delight.
(n.b.: Sydney Devine came second to Alex Harvey in the 1957 Scotland’s Elvis contest but went down the route of lachrymose ballads about silver-haired grannies on the point of passing away and is still a superstar at home, though unknown in Carlisle)
By now, of course, he had done Parkinson and crossed over nationally, and by dint of his prior involvement in the Scottish folk-rock scene with the Humblebums (first with Tam Harvey, then with Gerry Rafferty) he opened the floodgates for a host of provincial folkies-turned-comics; Wales’ Max Boyce actually had a number one album around this time – We All Had Doctors’ Papers – while Brummie Jasper Carrott went top five with his “Funky Moped” even though that was largely bought (again, mainly by adolescent boys) because of its banned B-side, Carrott’s celebrated reworking of The Magic Roundabout, as quoted endlessly in my school playground at the time). And there was Mike Harding the Rochdale Cowboy. I’m not quite sure whether Connolly alone prompted the mass folk-to-cabaret exodus but it’s a curious evolution whichever way you look at it.
His “D-I-V-O-R-C-E” is literally a shaggy dog story; the dog bites him, goes mad, and then so does his wife, so he gets rid of both (charming), but his contagious humour and good nature just about see it through.
But he is always best seen live, where one can marvel at his ability to venture extremely far from his starting point, just as Coltrane would use “My Favourite Things” or “Chim Chim Cheree” as a launch pad for flying off into space; like Coltrane, you sometimes wonder whether he’ll ever be able to get back, but one twist and one smile and he magically connects with the premise again.
is “play once only — smile — throw away” the curse of all parody records?
autobiography of a funhater: i despised the rutles, have always been annoyed at f.zappa’s self-adoration re not noticing that all the jokes he’s makin abt “sgt pepper” are already made of itself by sgt pepper, and sent out a team of undeadly ill-trained assassins after weird “al” jancowidge years ago…
prove me wrong w.parodies that IMPROVE on the original (esp.musically)
ooh: the coltrane-connolly tie-up, awesome MC! i’m avin that
At a competitive fee, pal.
(also you have totally misread the Rutles when you should be despising Oasis for the same “crime”)
“Unchained Melody” by the Goons is better than all other versions btw, and I’d say that Bill Oddie’s “On Ilkley Moor Bah’tat” just about cuts Cocker’s “With A Little Help…”
There’s at least one upcoming parody I *certainly* thought was funnier than the original at the time.
The mid seventies proved fertile ground for comedy records, some of which were not recorded in order to be classified thus and some which were were simply not funny. I’m afraid that try as the Big Yin did, this effort must be applied to the latter for the simple reason that the song he set out to parody was a prime example of the former. Connolly replaces child with dog and that’s about it. For pure comedic value, I have Tammy winning on points.
I should however like to make this point about Billy. I have nothing but admiration for him. He stood up to those bestial “alternative” comedians, who appeared like a bad rash at the end of the decade, whilst remaining a fervent advocate of libertarian (rather than liberal) values. “How DARE these guys impose their beliefs on me!” he once spat on one of his regular appearances on “Parkinson”. He was, I remember, one of many established performers who suggested that the only thing alternative about the new wave was that they were not funny. I cannot recall that sanctimonious little squirt, Ben Elton retaliating. I wonder why? Connolly has also never played the professional Scotsman and is in fact one of the good guys with a twinkle in his eye. And let’s face it, pop pickers, to have removed one masterpiece from the top of the UK singles chart only to be replaced by one just as mighty must have tickled him pink. Dear God, he even turned up in an episode of “Columbo”! A national treasure not just for Caledonia but for the whole of the UK.
An episode of Columbo directed by Patrick McGoohan if I remember rightly. How good does life get?
so what *are* the bleeped out words? i’ve not heard it for a while but seem to recall
and she sank her teeth in my B. U. M.
and called me a [BLEEP] [BLEEP]
is that right? this used to get semi-frequent plays on a late-night local radio show (on tfm) into the early 90s because the dj played one “comedy” track per night and rly dudes, there aren’t *that* many, if you can’t use swears, so i possibly know this better than the original…
The answer is:
“…and called me an F-ing C.”
Stan Freberg’s “Rock Island Line” is probably the best of his song parodies. (I like all of them, even the sneery-bordering-on-racist ones, but I couldn’t seriously argue that most improve on the originals. The timing of Freberg and Daws Butler on RIL is just incredible, though.)
As for Billy, I’ve not heard this song since it was a hit. The last line is the one I can remember most clearly, probably because of the odd way he sings the double E to force scansion.
Anyway, apropos parodies >>>>> songs, Spike Jones passim.
thanks MC, i was kind of guessing it must be, but was hoping for a rhyme at least
Marcello – so Harding, Carrott and Boyce had all had hit albums or singles before Connolly went properly national. In a sense, then, he was the last of the four, but of course he’d been building a reputation in England before the Parkinson breakthrough. In all cases the development must have been similar – folkie musician finds the between-song patter goes down as well as if not better than the songs, and gradually becomes a comic with a guitar rather than the other way round. And if Manchester’s Piccadilly Radio was anything to go by, they found receptive audiences on the equivalent of the James Stannage show all over the country. (Honourable mentions for Bolton’s Bob Williamson and Bernard Wrigley, who didn’t make it quite as big nationally but had great local success and both recently appeared on Phoenix Nights.)
Waldo’s point is interesting since the folkies for the most part were the bridge between “The Comedians”-type comedians and the alternative comics. Connolly in particular with his rambling stories of a hard Glasgow upbringing and dysfunctional family was a world away from your Ken Goodwins. And it’s a style of comedy that doesn’t need to be PC, it just doesn’t seem an issue.
My wife and I are fans of the Big Yin to the extent that lines of his pepper our conversation without our always being aware of them. When someone has a horrible, probably far-right, idea, we’ll say “that’s sort of Thatcherite thinking”, and only the cod-Scottish accent reminds us that it was a Connolly line.
And yet most people at one stage or another have rather gone off him. For myself, I put up with the friends-with-the-Duchess-of-York years and even the Lotto adverts, since the videos and World Tour series more than made up for it. But it took one gag – the Ken Bigley one – for me to switch off after 30 years or so. Don’t know how other commenters feel, but regardless of the politics of Iraq, that was a step too far for me.
BTW Jeff – does he really sing the double E to force scansion? I’d always thought the gag was that he spelt it “Q-U-E-R queer”!
Oh, and the Rutles were pure Neil Innes genius.
i have LOADS to say on the libertarian vs alt.com topic (i think waldo has the start of a good point but not the finish of it): however i have to catch a plane to go see a wagner opera (<— class credentials handily established there haha) so you'll have to wait ti llsunday at the ealiest
ps bah at the rutles i hates em i hates em
Comedy records (as opposed to records that happen to be funny – a distinction Tom has made before) aren’t meant to have a long shelf life, probably for much the same reason that means Shakespeare’s comedies tend to have a lot fewer laughs than the more visceral plays, but this one endures better than most for me.
A lot of this is to do with the persona of Billy Connolly. For all the image of the big hairy scary Glaswegian bear you might not want to bump into while out in the wilderness, there’s so much of the kind of warmth mingled with vulnerability that makes Glasgow one of my favourite cities (not, you understand, that I’d underestimate the dangers of wandering through Govan wearing green). One enduring memory of the city is of being there for a conference and introducing a bunch of people – Londoners all – to my favourite Glasgow watering hole on the Saturday night (the Scotia Bar, since you ask). The place was packed – all except one alcove occupied by two young women and ferociously guarded by a troll. The troll turned out to be very agreeable company in the true Glasgow way. He was a fervent Partick Thistle – they had that afternoon been stuffed by Rangers – supporter who explained that Thistle weren’t so much a football club as a way of life. Like Connolly he was a brilliant raconteur and true philosopher.
Apart from that, what I have to say has already been said. I, too, am grateful to Marcello for the Coltrane comparison – spot on.
Oh – and is my memory deceiving me or is this another that took its time getting to number one? Only I’m pretty sure I was familiar with it when I was in Canada the preceding summer.
Although I think that this song is one of Billy’s weaker moments as a comedian, ( I prefer his tangled tales ) – I’m glad it got him introduced to the public at large. I ” discovered” Billy during my travels abroad in ’75 , when I eventually ended up in Scotland staying with my relatives. The very LP pictured here was given to me by my uncle ( now long gone ) and I still have it.
I’ve seen The Big Yin live a couple of times and loved it. We weren’t overexposed to Connelly in ad’s and in media in Canada and though he was popular it was only cult status in the Scot’s & UK ex-pat community . Although he did try to do a sit com in the USA, that failed.
I liked him alot in ” Mrs. Brown ” and his old Humblebums pal , Gerry Rafferty of ” Baker Street” fame has realeased a long string of very fine CD’s, from “City to City” to “Another World”.
It occurs to me that the only thing even remotely like it in the Popular project so far is My Ding-a-Ling, but this is far superior.
I’m sure somebody must know of somebody in this live audience who went on to make a splash?
The Diamonds’ version of Maurice Williams’ “Little Darlin'” was intended to be a withering put-down of all that was stupid (in the Diamonds’ opinion, at least) about 1950s doo wop. Somehow, they wound up making a record that was better than the original, and turned out to be a perfect example of the very music the Diamonds loathed. This seems like both perfect karmic justice, and a boon for doo wop fans like me.
On a 1975 tip, The Goodies version of Wild Thing is wilder than the original. “Come on! Move me! I’M MOVED!” “Not… quite… that… tight”, etc.
Hmmm. I may be in a minority here, but this Glaswegian can’t stand Connolly, recently for the reasons enumerated by Erithian, plus added foibles (eg abandonment of inconvenient first wife) tabled by Marcello when we were discussing The Streak
As far as I’m concerned ever since Parkinson he’s laughed at Glaswegians, not with us.
The part of Partick he comes from was hardly Apache country, and it seems to me he exaggerates his plebian antecedents in a Meacheresque way. Am I the only person to detect that the wee Kelvinside nuance in his eccent isn’t altogether a later effectation? Gerry Rafferty, however, was the real deal unlike class, city, and national traitor BC, who comes back to Scotland to play the laird at his Candacraig House on the Aberdeenshire estate he bought from Anita Roddick, and to turn up on Desert Island Discs so he can trash the memory of a deceased teacher who declined to be blown away by his classroom clowning.
He undoubtedly had real talent for observation (I am smiling thinking about the riff about the footwarmer advertised in a certain sort of Sunday supplement). Not sure why the BBC seems so in thrall to him.
As parodies go this is passable – for good ones check out The Capitol Steps.
And The Scotia Bar is great!
I haven some recollections of my Mum (who is a Glaswegian but, obviously, not an older brother) playing some live Connolly to my younger self at some point – I even recall her explaining to me what a “jobbie” was. But if this song was on there I don’t remember it at all. Mind you, I wouldn’t have recognised the original which kind of ruins the parody appeal.
I do remember his ‘Two Little Boys In Blue’ though.
This isn’t BC’s finest moment but it’s not his worst either. He gets away with this, I think, through the register of the performance; the laughs as he sings, which suggest he’s amused by the moment, which bats away any suggestion that this is meant to LAST.
It’s just a parody, sure, and ‘Two Little Boys’ from the first Secret Policeman’s Ball is just a parody, but that latter recording lasts and survives because he knows exactly what he’s doing and when we’ve lived into a happier age where police brutality is an historical curio, we’ll still be able to enjoy someone whose splinter-sharp timing can turn lead into gold. D.I.V.O.R.C.E. isn’t alchemical but it’s what it is and is carefully maintained as nothing more.
FWIW, I think Billy Connolly is one of the handful of GREAT comedians to emerge in my lifetime. We have seen lots of good comedians, but only a few great ones. The difference, I’d say, is that a good comedian shows you things about the world, a great comedian makes you see the world differently. You can emerge from a Billy Connolly gig (or an Eddie Izzard gig, or …) and look at any aspect of the world and think ‘I know what Billy Connolly would say about THAT’. In that way, comedians like him are akin to real artists in their capacity for real transformation, for making the familiar unfamiliar. This requires more than three minutes, obviously, so just as someone who’d only encountered three minutes of Shakespeare, three pages of Dickens, or three stanzas of Paradise Lost, would be unable to appreciate the real deranging challenge offered by those works, we won’t judge Billy Connolly on this song, which would have made more sense within the shape and flow of a whole performance.
It’s intriguing that Tammy made such an impact this year that she was a candidate for satirical deflation. Is this something specific to how she was marketed? Is it something about the perceived audience? Or is this just the standard-issue belief that country music is inherently ludicrous?
Some parodies endure for me. Half Man Half Biscuit have parodied song styles enduringly and, at the risk of enraging the Spoiler Bunny and the p^nk s lord, there’s a rather enjoyable polka version of the upcoming #1 that to me is – by now – more freshly listenable than the original.
And, sorry, I love the Rutles…
No need to be sorry about loving the Rutles, Dan; mercifully the dreaded G**lty Pl**s*r*s virus has not permeated this domain! Also Neil Innes is an all-round top man and I’m only sorry he had to play Brian Wilson to Eric Idle’s Mike Love.
Chris, #23:
Ah, that must have been Solo Concert since it has the almost equally legendary “Jobbie Weecha” routine with BC’s curious interpretation of the circularity of the food chain (not for the squeamish). Also includes a superb Little Jimmy Osmond parody: “Short-Haired Police Cadet From Maryhill.”
Caledonianne, #22:
Totally agree that Rafferty’s the real deal and it’s a real shame we won’t be “doing” him on Popular except presumably mentioned in despatches. Also thoroughly take your points but I still think BC’s a great comedy improvisor and technician if you can forget all the golfing with Tarby, Windsor mansions, Lotto adverts etc., as hard as it admittedly is to do so.
Billy, #21:
YES!! The Goodies’ “Wild Thing” – Tim Brooke-Taylor as Reg Presley while Chris Spedding, Ray Warleigh et al freak out behind him.
Rosie, #19:
Possibly “My Old Man’s A Dustman” may also count in this category but I’ve never quite been able to work out whether the audience on that record was real or overdubbed.
sinkah, #16:
you are herely sentenced to a compulsory listen to Rudiger Carl’s 40 Golden Greats compilation on FMP.
No need to be sorry about loving the Rutles, Dan; thankfully the dreaded G**lty Pl**s*r*s virus hasn’t infected these portals (yet)! Also Neil Innes is an all round top bloke and I’m just sorry that he had to play Brian Wilson to Eric Idle’s Mike Love.
Chris, #23:
That’ll have been Solo Concert, since it includes the almost equally legendary “Jobbie Weecha” routine (BC’s ruminations on the curious circularity of the food chain are not for the squeamish) as well as a fine Little Jimmy Osmond parody in “Short Haired Police Cadet From Maryhill.”
Caledonianne, #22:
Thoroughly concur that Rafferty’s the real deal and it’s a real shame we won’t be “doing” him on Popular except presumably mentioning him in despatches. Also totally take your points about BC on board but I still think he’s a brilliant comedic improvisor and technician if you try to forget about all the golfing with Tarby, Windsor mansions, Lotto adverts etc., as hard as it admittedly is to do so.
Billy, #21:
YES! “Wild Thing” with Tim Brooke-Taylor as Reg Presley and Chris Spedding, Ray Warleigh et al going berserk behind him.
Rosie, #19:
Possibly “My Old Man’s A Dustman” also counts in this category, except I’ve never quite been able to work out whether the audience on that record was real or overdubbed.
(N.B.: chart progress of “D.I.V.O.R.C.E.” was 25-9-2-1, so it was a fairly quick ascent)
sinkah, #16:
you are fule of fules and are hereby sentenced to twelve consecutive compulsory listens to Rudiger Carl’s 40 Golden Greats compilation on FMP, as never advertised on TV.
Dan – re Tammy Wynette’s impact, as BC says on the intro in “Get Right Intae Him”, “I heard this song a couple of weeks ago and I couldn’t keep ma hands off it.” On the same album he does a version of Dolly Parton’s “Coat of Many Colours”, entirely straight and quite effectively.
I’ve been in Glasgow only twice in my life. The first time was in my student years en route home from a sponsored hitch-hike from Land’s End to John O’Groats. It was April 1982, a few days after the Falklands invasion. Trying to catch a bus to the outskirts of town as night fell, I was badgered at the bus stop by a cliché Glasgow drunk. By the time he was slurring “Ah hope yew don’t have to give up your studies to go to they Falklands”, I was sufficiently unnerved (though he was no doubt harmless) to slope off to the fairly grim youth hostel on Sauchiehall Street.
The second time was for an interministerial meeting 16 years later at a smart hotel. A bunch of us helping out with the delegates were taken to the Burrell Collection, spent an evening in King Tut’s and generally had a ball. We’d made friends with the hotel doorman, and as we left – on the opening day of the 1998 World Cup – I wished him luck for the Scotland v Brazil game that afternoon. “Luck won’t come intae it, laddie”, he said. I thought about that when Brazil’s winner went in off Tommy Boyd’s chest.
I’ve only been to Glasgow once, for the Screen conference two years ago. As chance would have it, I ended up walking down Sauchiehall Street during the England-Portugal World Cup quarter final, not very inconspicuous in my white suit, listening to ferocious yells from every pub that I passed, trying not to look English.
Obviously a fantastic place, though.
And I’ve also been to Glasgow just the once, late 1990s. My sister was living on Byers Street, and she took me to her local record shop, which I think might have been the original Fopp.
In the absence of anything useful to say about Billy Connolly (never paid him anything more than passing attention, but he’s made me laugh a few times over the years and “D.I.V.O.R.C.E.” got us all chuckling in the common room, and wow was THAT what got bleeped out…), I can at least respond to a couple of other points.
1. “My Old Man’s A Dustman” used a live audience, having been recorded at Doncaster Gaumont, not much more than 5 minutes’ walk from my grandparents’ house.
2. I never got the Rutles either. Pastiche without purpose!
Byers Road I think you meant there Mike – which used to be the Hillhead (i.e. student) branch of much-missed indie chain Listen Records.
The original Fopp was a stall in the Savoy Market in Sauchiehall Street and I know because I used to help out there/help myself to their stock whenever I was up for Easter, etc.
Thanks for the “Dustman” confirmation.
Rutles were pastiches sculpted out of love innit.
erithian @15: ha! the late night dj i referred to before WAS james stannage, he lasted about 18 months in the north east until he said a swear (also, having just done the usual research i didn’t know his latest sacking was ken bigley-related…)
Great Stannage moment – he played a request, David Bowie’s “Time”, and faded it out AFTER the line “he flexes like a whore, falls wanking to the floor”, with the comment “I’ll fade it out there, that’s all you were waiting for anyway”. This was around 3 on a Sunday afternoon!
Sorry, Stannage had a Bigley-related sacking? Tell us more!
just got it from wikipedia. he always was a gobby old so and so…
Well my disdain for comedy records is fairly well documented on popular and BC’s effort here certainly isn’t about to change anything. Although funny in small doses, Billy, unfortunately, isn’t as funny as he likes to think he is (I have an adversity to people who laugh at their own jokes – certainly before anyone else does anyway). He also committed the sin of returning a tune I didn’t particularly care for back to the top of the charts. Thanks Connolly !
22 Caledonianne – I’m also a Glaswegian who can’t stand Connolly. I hate the way we are almost compelled to worship him, and even more that much of that compulsion seems to come from the man himself.
His recent Kelvinside affectation, in my view, is a more recent phenomenon, a caricature of the type of forced accent you would expect from someone who was at pains to distance themselves from more humble beginnings. NOBODY in Glasgow speaks like Connolly does now.
Some of his material was very funny, and as parodies go, this was fine – obvious material for a Glasgow comic, but I still don’t quite get WHY it was so successful. Yes, there was the mini-folk boom going on at the time, and at least it was better than his later hit parodies which I won’t mention by name for spoiler bunny reasons, although thankfully neither of them made #1 themselves.
Spoiler Bunny rules apply only to #1s vinylscot! If someone only has one No.1 hit then by all means discuss their later career all you want.
Tom,
As both his other parodies were of No1s which have not yet been covered, I thought it best not to go into them. I’m sure they will be mentioned when we come to the No1s themselves!
“Supergran,” though (#32 in 1985!)…
Supergran wasn’t a parody – it was the theme tune to a tv programme (which may have been a parody itself I suppose)
Just pointing out that it was his only non-parodic Top 40 hit (Judge Dale: “…but we all loved it anyway”).
DJ Punctum, sorry if you thought I was dissing you (is that what you young folk say?) I just wanted to let folk know I wasn’t referring to that one. I almost fell into a spoiler bunny trap on another thread and just want to make sure I don’t do it again here!
My infant son’s favourite song is a version of “Supergran” with lyrics about his large soft toy fish.
As a comedy record this works, that is its pretty funny(IMO obv). The fact that its such a catchy tune helps improve its relistenability too.
I had an English teacher(i.e she was a Scottish person who taught Eng Lit) at Secondary School in Edinburgh in the 80s who amazed us all by stating she didnt find BC funny. She said she didnt like the way he derived his humour from mocking the Scots and playing up our national stereotypes for English and overseas audiences. At the time i couldn’t grasp what she was on about but now i sort of can. I certainly feel that he is undoubtably at his best when performing in front of a Scottish audience when he is at his most undiluted and relaxed and there is never any doubt he is laughing WITH us not AT us. For proof contrast the brilliant “World Tour of Scotland” w/ the exceedingly lukewarm “World Tour of England Ireland and Wales”. That said his performance in ITV’s “An Audience With..” from the mid-80s is amazing, the comedy equivelant of Hendrix at Woodstock!(or something)
Re: the whole Connolly as Coltrance analogy- I always got the impression those tangents and wanderings he went on during his storytelling routines were nearly all highly scripted and pre-prepared (except when he was bouncing off some commment an audience member had made obv)and not improvised at all! Can anyone prove it one or another and settle the argument?
well coltrane’s material was also likely pre-prepared in an important sense — patterns and passages and shapes and runs (scales and argepeggios and so on) (which coltrane in particular hurtled through): it’s not as if (jazz) improvisation is anything like free from pre-decided elements, the stuff that goes together to be a style or a signature; it’s true that music has nothing precisely like storytelling to help fashion a solo or a set but it has plenty of other larger-scale structures to move around and through, and you can hear in different club-recordings of the same song that coltrane developed his long-form playing in not-dissimilar ways from performance to performance
(not that this proves anything either way; probably you could only do that by getting BC and JC to talk to one another, which is not an option sadly)
I need to keep reminding myself that you are talking about John Coltrane, rather than Robbie Coltrane.
I am also in the bunch of people who has never really found Connelly all that funny, he reminds me a touch of Robin Williams in a trying too hard sometimes way (coupled with a bullying attitude towards his observational stuff which often was ‘Just him’). But I can see how he was a watershed performer in the UK, perhaps the Jolson of comedy more.
I got tickets to see him in Plymouth, his first tour for a decade, back in 1984 or thereabouts.
One astounding evening, he overran by about an hour or something crazy, had so much to tell!
He’s never been as great as that (when I’ve seen him on TV, etc), though he’s pretty damn good.
TOTP Watch: Perhaps surprisingly, Connolly turned up in the studio to mime this twice. Neither performance survives.
The 6th of November 1975 sounds like an interesting show: Also in the studio were Jigsaw, Hot Chocolate, Jim Capaldi, 14-18, Gary Glitter, The Rubettes and Pan’s People (interpreting ‘Imagine’!). The host was Jimmy Saville.
I’ve always wondered who on earth 14-18 were. As performed in ‘Oh What A Lovely War’, ‘Good-bye-ee’ is one of my favorite songs. They can’t actually have been a band of first world war veterans, surely?
14-18? Step forward, Pete Waterman!
And Pete “Not The Buzzcock, The Love Me Love My Dog One” Shelley.
I remember that particular TOTP performance vividly and was convinced it would be a number one but it fell considerably short of that peak. Of course, Waterman would more than make up for that later.