The day before I heard Ian Hunter was in town I was reading The Rolling Stone Illustrated History of Rock & Roll and gaping at its "rare picture" of Hunter without his glasses on. Rare indeed. He's not wearing shades, his fingers are full of rings, his hair is neatly groomed and he's posed, best cheesecake, on a bed. What are the punks gonna make of this new, purring, Hunter? He's always been exempt from their superstar rap, too common to be convincing as a show-biz scam, but what of this new model?

"Yeah," he grunted, "I saw it. Bloody David Byron, wasn't it? Trust 'em to get something wrong."