Takes me back that Rolling. When I was a wee lad at school our music teacher (See, that dates it don’t it - Music? Being taught in school?!) suggested, in a fit of end-of-term laissez-faire, that we bring our own records in and he’d give us the benefit of applying to them his expert music critism (pompous ass!). Anyway one lad brought in the Lemon Pipers and I vividly remember his sense of injustice when Sir, for whom music began and ended with Beethovens fifth, slagged it off unreservedly - The lad had obviously thought long and hard about which disk to bring in and his defence of his choice basically amounted to “How fucking eclectic did you want you old scrote?” although he may have chosen his words more carefully.
My mate Jock (full on tassle-loafered, Ben Shermaned, crombie-coated Skin) brought ‘Al Capone’ by Prince Buster. Oh how we sniggered.
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