Day 1: London Town

Without further ado, I hotfooted it (note, I did not hotstep – I save that for terrorising Ini Kamoze) back to my London pad. As I burst through the door I caught my valet Crispian De Savary doing the washing up with his tongue again.

“Drop that Crispian, we have work to do.”
“Work?” He said, unaware of the concept, much as he was unaware of the concept hate in I Hate Films during its short lived tenure under his editorship.
“Yes, we are to travel around the world via the medium of crap songs in less than eighty days.”
“What, like in that Steve Coogan and Jackie Chan movie that despite wonderfully low expectations, still managed to disappoint.”
“I have told you Crispian, I Hate Films was a cheap rip-off and a flop and it will never get resurrected. Now get my stuff and meet me in the hallway in one hour. I shall be saying goodbye to the booze.”
“Shall I pack a hip flask?”
“Two, plus a couple of thigh flasks, and elbow measure and a neck brace full of Tanquary please. Oh and my I-Pissed.”
The I-Pissed was my most recent acquisition, a wonderful device made by the Apple corporation which would help dispense any known cocktail whilst on the move. Based I believe on some horrid white music player known as the I-Pod, but a much more civilised refinement.
An hour later we reconvened in the hallway to start our epic adventure. My manservant, myself resplendent in my finest silks and a wheelbarrow full of gin. How could I leave any of my babies behind.
“To the station,” I said. And we went. Via the station bar and a celebratory champagne cocktail.

Bucks Fizz: London Town
A Bucks Fizz is a lousy cocktail, being considerably less strong than champagne itself. The health giving aspects of orange juice (not the band I hasten to add) had always put me off. But a more apposite name for the band could not be found. Not only were the member perma-tanned an unhealthy shade of orange, but the tunes were a empty and unsatisfying as a champagne bubble.

London Town, a minor hit by ver Fizz, had a video shot in an erstatz “London Town” tube station. Pray where would you be getting the Underground too if there was a station called London Town? (Crispian tells me that Basil Rathbone Sherlock Holmes movies often had “London” train stations too. Apropos of nothing. I shall dock him pay.)

What was remarkable about Bucks Fizz was how long they lasted for a band based on the least risque stripping ever. That there has been a feud about who owns the name staggers me. Having two rival bands calling themselves Bucks Fizz is a bit like a serial killer changing his name to Charles Bronson to try and seem harder. Ie, fucking stupid and exceedingly unpleasant.