As we’re leaving Bogart’s after the band’s soundcheck, several of the Jags are momentarily drawn to the display window of The Cupboard, Cincinnati’s immemorial, tireless merchandiser of psychedelic sleaze. I watch the Jags stand there, comic-strip question marks and exclamation points frozen over their cosmopolitan English skulls, as they stare at a whole windowful of ugly pink plastic, penisshaped hash pipes, under the cryptic legend: “Remember Father’s Day, June 15”.

But what can this be? the Jags must wonder. Warner Bros, didn’t warn us about dildo-fetishism reigning as a rite of paternity in the States, though to hear this bloke Ted Nugent...Finally one of the Jags turns to another, the first Jag’s face as bright with discovery as if he’s just deciphered a new Rosetta Stone and found references to Nick Lowe among the hieroglyphics: “It’s an ’ead shop. That’s what it isj”