To continue Lord O'May's theme (best incarnation so far) there is no sin in being middle class or even a connoisseur, neither a British bluesy pub rocker, nor the type who go round in a BMW motorcycle and sidecar in WW2 German military clothing, or indeed a folk singer - the error is in seeing yourself as direct inheritor of The Real Thing. Make believe is a valuable commodity and one individuals and the world at large might benefit from but is best undertaken with both feet firmly on the ground.

To that end when we turn out Macbooks into ploughshares of an evening an arched eyebrow is our best friend, especially when 1954 is on the menu.