There was something about Slade, Sweet and T. Rex singles that sets them apart – they seemed to be recorded at twice the volume as any other record.

This was the first Slade single I went out and bought with my pocket money. Red paper peephole sleeve. Red Polydor label with that misspelt title in black embossed writing. I can see it now. I still have it in my collection.

The moment you dropped the needle on to the black vinyl disc (and how pleasurable that single act was; the final part in the ritual of unsheathing the seven-inch disc from its sleeve, placing it on the turntable, watching it turn and lifting the arm before letting it down gently into that wide groove at the start) you heard that scratchy crackle of anticipation… then BOOM!

Dave Hill’s guitars blaze with electricity, Don Powell’s drums crash like thunder, Jim Lea’s bass booms and Noddy Holder’s sandpaper rasp goes right through you: it could curdle milk.

He placed the emphasis in ODD places in his lyrics. “Came up to YOU one night. Noticed the look in YOUR eye. Saw you was ON your own… And it was ALL riiiiight.” The lascivious leer is implied; you can hear it in his voice, in his Black Country inflection. The lyrics, now I look at them, are bonkers. “Said I could call you Sidney. I couldn’t make out why.” WTF?!!!

It’s a song of a chance meeting in a nightclub. Of an alcohol-fuelled encounter. Of a missed opportunity. Of being thankful for that: “The superman comes to meet you. Looks twice the size of me. I didn’t stay round to say goodnight so it was all right.”

The video, with the band members assigned cross-dressing lookalikes is great too: one of those daft ideas for which Top of the Pops became notorious.