Loughborough University

I HAD a yearning to be right at the front. Defying the crushing mass of the crowd for the opportunity to gaze into the mouth of Noddy Holder.

I wished my eyes could extend out like a little pair of marbles on the ends of stalks to reach deep down inside, past the yellowing teeth, the fetid tongue, the tonsil scars, way down yonder to examine just where that coarse Yodel comes from.

There's definitely something lodged in the body of Noddy Holder that could be removed after his death (although some would prefer it done sooner) and exhibited in the Authorised Medical Personnel Only section of some pioneering research hospital.

There, one December day, it would send shivers of terror streaking through the veins of young medics by bawling from its glass case:

“Merrie Christmas Everybody...!”

To continue reading this article and to discover many more (over 140,000 words-worth!), purchase Mick Sinclair’s Adjusting the Stars: Music journalism from post-punk London.