Burning Up.
June 14, 2011 § Leave a Comment
I first saw this…
On a pop program called The Tube (ask your parents) hosted by Paula Yates (who I very desperately wanted to be with her blond tuft of hair and billowing Antony Price doll dresses, skipping around the studio, flirting with pop stars) and Jools Holland before he got round and lost his neck: happens to the best of us let’s face it. And by that I mean the skipping and pop-star flirting bit.
Every Friday before heading to the Youth Club I’d watch episodes showing the first ever TV appearance of The Smiths, the launch of Frankie Goes To Hollywood, an entire documentary on Duran Duran and this young blonde writhing around on tarmac like a dislodged worm in hot sun. I’m betting my outfit for that particular Friday night in downtown Caterham consisted of all white and possibly a vest. And the dog’s neck was naked for a few weeks. Ditto Mum’s Hoover the bands of which made great rubber bracelets.
I can also bet that due to drinking nothing stronger than cola any writhing on tarmac wouldn’t have happened. That particular party-trick I’d save for years later.
Today I heard Britney’s version which is total Britney Spears or just plain BS compared to this.
