It’s my belief that no pop song with a ‘spoken bit’ can be all bad, though Pat Boone does his best to test my resolve with a lifeless, dreary epistolary ballad, good in 1956 for a grope and a smooch perhaps, but good in 2003 for nothing. Only point of interest – why isn’t Pat home? The army, you’d think – and talk of returning so he can start “serving you” hints he’s serving something else right now. But he also sings how “once more our love can be free” – can clean-livin’ Pat be in prison?! On the evidence of this inert offering, wherever he is it’s somewhere they censor the letters.