This is, of course, one of the cries of the common, or garden Dad alongside the evergreen “You’re not going out like that, are you?”,”You can’t tell if it’s a man or a woman (normally uttered whilst watching the latest pop sensations) and the rather parochial, but deathless “He wouldn’t get through t’pit gates dressed like that”
But as those of us who are of a certain vintage are only too aware , as the gnarled hands of impending gifferdom close around our hitherto youthful and vibrant souls , we too will eventually cheat at arguing by saying “Well when you’ve lived as long as I have, son you find that that’s just not true” and piss ourselves laughing at our own jokes.
The point (yes, unusually for these missives ,there is one), is that our dads,despite their gravy stained cardigans with football buttons and inexplicable affection for the work of David Jason, were once cool, impressively coiffured young bucks who jived/twisted/pogoed to the latest tunes with the same kind of abandon as Albert Freeman in a greengrocers, and mine was no exception.
Which is why my dad came into the studio this week to introduce a new feature “Bri’s Revived 45” where I play things that I have nicked from his impressive record collection. ( and he did say “that’s just noise” during the Hair Police track but that’s because er…it is)