They might have been in the Second Division of Glam but Mud came close to earning promotion with their first chart topper at the start of 1974.

It might have been down the tiger slippers they wore on Top of the Pops – a touch of conceptual genius – though I suspect it was more to do with that crunchy guitar riff. That and the joyously nonsensical catchiness of the song.

Then there was the staging: an elaborately synchronised production that began with the band, backs turned, all of them dressed in white, raising their arms in unison with a rising cheer, before turning around to do some sort of synchronised hokey-cokey with a quartet of random dancers who look as if they just stepped off the football terraces.

It’s as spectacular as the dancing is horrific – including that awful thumbs-in-belt-loops twist that was popular at the time.

And I haven’t even got to the clothes: Les Gray goes one step further in his Glammed-up Teddy Boy drapes and a kind of boxer’s belt adorned with one of those lion door knockers.

Meanwhile Rob Davis continues to outdo Slade’s Dave Hill in a flouncy dress-like outfit involving the world’s widest flares (and droopiest sleeves), teamed with earrings that look like he picked them off the Christmas tree.

As if they weren’t satirising themselves (and the whole Glam phenomenon) enough already, check out the way Les deliberately holds the microphone back-handed like a piss-take of Alvin Stardust. Glorious.

And the reason they did so well is obvious – Mud were having just as much fun as their audience. Altogether now: “That’s right, that’s right, that’s right, that’s right…”