Let me count the ways I hate this record. At least two I think. Firstly it takes the name of booze in vain – a large enough crime in anyone’s books. It also completely spoils the visible effect of that most angry of colours Red. Oh, let’s make that three ways, it’s by the tantalisingly named UB40.

UB40 are so named because when they were formed they were all claiming Unemployment Benefit, as obtained by the UB40 form. After all, who would employ five Brummie layabouts whose idea of good music is ripping off wholesale reggae standards and writing about their rat infested kitchens. A rather political band too using their previous plight to help illustrate the terror of unemployment in Thatcherite Britain. Of course the fact that they were now employed as the early eighties version of a tribute band (think of the Shite Brummie Wailers) was actually making the British public wish there was more unemployment, especially for Ali Campbell. Of course like so many a political band they soon realised that making money out of their Labour Of Love insipid cover collections beat paying excess tax and soon stopped trapping on about workers rights. So much so that Ali Campbell employed child labour on his solo album when he forced his own daughter to sing, merely to cash-in on the publics sentimentality and rake in some cute moppet money.

So to Red Red Wine (as opposed to White Red Wine, which would probably be a bottle of Mateus Rose). They say it goes straight to their head, whilst displaying the kind of anodyne reggae shuffle which has characterised their entire career. Well all this shows is that the boys from the ’40 are lightweights – as it takes a good bottle and a half before I even start feeling a bit tipsy on a bottle of Merlot. Perhaps they would be better off drinking white wine? Snowballs? Water? That said if they ever rocked up in my local I would quite happily stump up for a bottle of red, red wine and watch it go straight to their heads. Wielded by me, whilst still in the bottle.