Dear The Singer From A Flock Of Seagulls

Re: Wishing (If I Had A Photograph of You)

I must say that in my advancing years I do seem to be experiencing a worrying increase in ‘senior moments’! No better has this been illustrated than this morning when I heard your ‘New Wave single’ on the car radio, expressing a plaintive yearning to be furnished with a reproductive likeness of my good self as an effective reminiscence stimulus and long term reverie deterrent. I am slightly ashamed to confess that I was somewhat disquieted, especially considering that I appear to have made a profound impression on you, given the fact that I have not even the vaguest recollection of our having ever met. I can only summise that we may have both been in attendance at my erstwhile work colleague Willy “Won’t He” Wallace’s fundraising fancy dress ‘bash’ at his illustrious Sandbanks flat on a dismal Autumn evening in 1981. This would amply explain your compliments regarding my deft application of cosmetics, gyrational prowess and startling coiffure. You obviously recall that I went as David Bowie and after a few too many Skols and Lamb’s Navy Rums was coerced into “doing my Jean Genie” as a glass tankard was passed around. These being the carefree and agile days before my cartilage operation, it was with some considerable ease and without the need to sit down in the first verse that I raised a not immodest £1.67 (equivalent to £4.79 allowing for inflationary adjustments as of June 2013) to be put towards subsidised deckchairs for the elderly. As referenced in your song, on the evening in question my make-up, my certain style, the way that I danced and had my hair (which vertical rigidity took an hour and nigh on half a can of Cossack to achieve), were all highly unlikely to be forgotten by all present.

Considering your own highly distinctive barbering as modelled in numerous ‘pop videos’ I am particularly bewildered that you have slipped my mind. Perhaps either it was flattened by the rain on the way to the party or obscured by a costume. If memory serves, there was a Darth Vader, a hyperthermic Bungle and a Noddy Holder replete with garish mirrored topper there that night, all of whom would have fitted your description.

In principle, and in atonement for my inexcusable absent-mindedness, I have no objection to sending you by recorded delivery a recent 'Snappy Snaps' image which has been rejected by the Passport Office on the grounds that it contains traces of a wry smile, contrary to application guidelines as haughtily set out in Form LS01. Alternatively, you may be well advised to contact the lead singer from The Vapors via the relevant Health Authority, who I am sure could spare a couple of pictures of me given that, to my constant chagrin, he has a million of them all around his cell.

Whilst writing I must state that I initially thought that another of your hit records was an impressive precognitive allusion to the erroneous pronunciation of a troubled West Asian territory during the Gulf War by American ‘anchormen’, and a reference to the proximity of said republic in relation to our own native shores. Repeated exposure to the chorus however has revealed that “I Ran, I Ran So Far Away” actually refers to your speedy and somewhat puzzling retreat from a young lady in the street, and I must now apologise for my aberrant misinterpretation.

I trust that I have been of assistance and wish you and your bevy of coast habituating avian creature homaging chums continued and well deserved success.

Yours sincerely


Derek Philpott

P.S. I have just recalled that there was also a Pink Panther at the party which may have been you

P.P.S. And a Spiderman  


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