Around 1974 I had a bit of a crush on this good Catholic girl who lived in our flat. At my urging, a bunch of us went to see The Three Desperate Mortgages (Dave Swarbrick, Dave Pegg, Simon Nicol) at some venue near High Wycombe. All I can remember about the venue was that we were standing at the back, and the temperature and humidity resembled that of the planet Venus.

All at first went well, and the lady was most impressed by the band's musical abilities and witticisms. Then, Mr. Swarbrick announced that they would perform "The Sailor's Alphabet". They did the filthy version. For those who have never heard this, "filthy" does not begin to describe its enormity. I shot a birdlike glance at the object of my desire, and a frozen smile was spreading across her face. The atmosphere in the car on the way back approached absolute zero.